#my legs and knees are Not Okay™

[blujaydoodles]

well this was SUPPOSED to be a mistletoe doodle but I got distracted and ended up spoofing a corny romance novel cover instead, oops

[rottenpumpkin13]

Out Of Context Things Director Lazard Has Seen On The SOLDIER Floor #2

• Genesis carrying around a mop, talking and laughing with it as if they're friends.

• Sephiroth doing a cartwheel mid-walk.

• Zack in the men's room, applying clown makeup while sobbing.

• Kunsel carrying a box of random items and yelling "STOLEN ITEMS FROM RUFUS SHINRA. GET YOUR STOLEN ITEMS FROM RUFUS SHINRA" and Sephiroth approaching him with a 20 gil.

• Sephiroth and Angeal fighting over a pineapple, trying to pull it from each other's hands.

• Angeal and Genesis crouched down behind the couch in the break room, eating a cheesecake away from Sephiroth.

• Zack playing chess with Dark Star, claiming "Damn it! How are you so good at this?" while actively losing.

• Sephiroth with half his hair stuck in the elevator, calmly sipping his coffee with a sign that says "this is my punishment" around his neck.

• Angeal and Sephiroth cooing over an exotic plant in a baby stroller.

• Angeal trying to coordinate a group photo of Sephiroth, Genesis, Zack and Cloud. There was a lot of screaming, arguing and "WHERE ARE WE FUCKING LOOKING?" from Genesis because Angeal had 4 different cameras set up.

• Genesis in a lab coat conducting a science experiment to see if Sephiroth feels threatened by said lab coat. Upon seeing Genesis, Sephiroth reflexively broke his knee.

• Sephiroth taking a nap in the middle of the hallway, complete with an eye mask, pillow and sound machine. People were stepping around him.

• Genesis and Angeal carrying a kayak towards the stairwell.

• Angeal carrying Genesis with a broken leg back from the stairwell 20 minutes later.

• Cloud narrating everything Sephiroth does. "Sephiroth is now opening the door to the training facility. Sephiroth has paused. Sephiroth is now looking at me confused, which could easily be confused for his thinking about lunch face."

• Zack, blowing on a whistle, instructing a squats class.

• Zack and Cloud, both blindfolded, walking with their arms linked. They ran into a revolving door. and caused a metaphorical traffic jam inside it that ended with claustrophobic Sephiroth breaking the glass to free himself.

• The following conversation that piqued Lazard's interested greatly:

Zack: Would you like a smoke?

Cloud: Of course.

*Zack pulls out a tin of smoked ham*

• Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal and Zack holding a Séance in the middle of the day in the break room. They refused to say which entity they were communicating with.

• Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal and Zack running out of the break room screaming 20 minutes later.

• During a blackout, when Genesis was seen carrying around a candelabra like it's the 1700s and reciting an old version of Loveless. Someone threw the candelabra out the 49th floor window 10 minutes later and told him to put a sock in it.

• Zack stuck in the vending machine, calmly eating the snacks while Angeal, Sephiroth and Genesis argue over how to get him out.

• Genesis running after a copy of Loveless on a string. Sephiroth is behind a corner pulling the string.

• Sephiroth and Genesis, in The Calm Down Box™ playing Uno, screaming at each other, defeating the purpose of The Calm Down Box™

• Angeal and Genesis dragging Sephiroth (unconscious) out of a meeting. When asked if he was okay, they responded with "we had him fake a fainting spell to get out of the meeting." Sephiroth (still "unconscious") responded with a thumbs up.

• Angeal in The Calm Down Box™ with a taser, harassing anyone who came near him with it.

• Zack and the other Seconds using a prop skeleton dressed as Genesis as a practice dummy.

• The same skeleton sitting in in Genesis' office while a recording of Genesis reciting Loveless plays on loop.

• A tonberry dressed as Sephiroth walking around, terrorizing the operatives.

• Genesis in The Calm Down Box™ playing the flute and sobbing.

• Angeal playing the guitar and singing a happy campfire song while Sephiroth and Genesis were on the ground, fist fighting.

• Genesis, Sephiroth and Angeal dressed as knights while Zack and Cloud manned a single horse costume. When asked what was happening, they replied with "It's the apocalypse, but due to inflation we could only afford three horsemen and one horse."

• Zack sitting in The Calm Down Box™ except he placed it stop a skateboard and was actively trying to escape while Angeal ran after him.

• Sephiroth, Genesis and Angeal riding around in a three-person bike. They crashed into a sliding glass door they didn't realize was closed.

• Sephiroth sitting in The Calm Down Box™ chugging a bottle of tequila.

• Sephiroth, Angeal, Genesis, Zack and Cloud playing twister. Utter chaos. Zack's ass in Angeal's face, Cloud has turned into a pretzel, Sephiroth and Genesis are literally tangled and stuck together.

[bked0n-lorazepam]

"Boo Boos"

“I want you to watch her for a good, couple of hours?” Negan held a squirming toddler in his arms as he talked to Simon about her. The said other man watched her as she whined and held on tighter to her father, and debated if it was worth it to babysit the clingy girl.

“Right, right. Just watch her is all? I don’t have to like, change her or anything?” Simon questioned, grimacing when he saw the girl bite down onto Negan’s shoulder. 

“Fuck! Okay, down you go!” Negan shouted, setting her down onto the floor. She giggled and started pulling at a string on his pant leg. Negan sighed in defeat and ruffled her hair, answering Simon’s question, “She’s potty trained, you dumb fuck. And yes, that’s all.”

Simon hummed and nodded his head. He was without a doubt a little nervous, who wouldn’t be? Taking care of The Big Man™’s girl was a huge deal, and even one fuck-up could result in getting fucked-up. 

Especially since she was such a little hassle. She’d always run away from her father whenever he didn’t keep a close enough eye on her, and she’d hide from him. She even talked to Daryl through the cell door one time, which was something Negan was not happy with.

“Hey, Negan? Everything’s ready for Alexandria.” Gavin walked past the two with a notebook in his hands, lifting it up and shaking it.

“M’kay.” Negan responded and looked down at the little girl who was eating a piece of string. “Stop that, honey. That’s not good for you.”

He sighed and looked back to Simon, who looked a bit fearful. Negan snorted and pulled his daughter off of him and held her out for the other man to take.

Simon held out his arms and awkwardly took her into them. She whined and turned herself around to stare at her father, who put a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Bye, honey. I’ll see you soon,” He shot a pointed look to his friend, “Take care of her.”

Simon nodded and watched Negan leave with the rest of the saviors and looked back to his daughter, who was emotionlessly staring at him.

“Your hair looks funny.”

–

“Kid? Where did you go?” Simon called out, lifting up a cardboard box on the ground to see what was under it.

It took two hours and thirteen minutes to lose Negan’s daughter, and now he had to find her before whenever he came back. Obviously it was a game to her, but since Simon didn’t know the exact time his boss was coming back, he was panicking.

He set down the box when he heard soft laughing come from down the hallway he was in, and then realized what she was doing. “Oh, fuck.”

Simon jogged down the corridor until he reached where Daryl’s cell was, and he saw her sitting with her back against the door.

“My daddy has the key, not me.” She smiled, playing with the skirt of her dress. The chair that was supposed to have a guard in it was empty, and he assumed that that was why she ran away to talk to Daryl. He sighed in relief, and was about to walk over to her and pick her up when she looked at him and gasped. 

“Bye, Mr. Daryl!” She shouted and stood up, running down the hallway away from Simon.

“Shit!” Simon groaned, following behind her. She giggled and took a turn to the right, and then she tripped over her own feet.

“Ow!” She cried out, holding her now scraped knee. Tears poured out of her eyes and Simon crouched down next to her.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, honey. Can I look at it?” He grabbed her leg softly and scanned it over to see how bad the injury was. She sniffled and hiccuped, her cheeks wet with hurt. It overall didn’t look bad enough to see Dr. Carson, but it did need to be wrapped. 

“Come here.” Simon picked her up and rubbed her back while she cried into his shoulder, and he winced when she wiped her nose on his shirt. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Simon sat her on the sink counter in his room and opened one of his cabinets, grabbing a first-aid kit and setting it down next to her. He grabbed a rag as well, and turned on the sink to put it under the water. Negan’s daughter wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve and watched him.

“I’m gonna wipe the blood away, and it’s gonna hurt a bit. M’kay, honey?” He told her, letting her brace herself for the pain. She nodded and bit her lip, and Simon nodded in return and placed the wet cloth on her knee.

“It stings!” She complained and tried to pull her knee away from him, only for him to grab it back.

“I know, I know. But I need to clean it to put a bandaid on it.” Simon sighed, “Look, I’m done.”

She looked at her knee and pouted, and Simon opened the kit next to her. He looked through it and found a box of bandages, and he grabbed one, peeling away the paper on it and placing it on her knee. 

“Look, we’re all done!” He smiled at her and reached his hand up to pinch her cheek. She giggled and kicked her legs back and forth.

Simon grabbed her and set her down off the counter and held her hand, “Do you want a popsicle? I heard Danny from the work stations makes some damn good cherry ones.”

“Daddy says they have liquor in them.”

“Oh.”

[tachimichishrine]

"high school"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

doa + hunting dogs {high school AU! hcs}

warnings: none!! just keep in mind this isn't an xreader!!

decay of angels

nikolai is, without question, the class clown, and head of the drama club

the teachers HATE him

he asks waaaaaay too many questions, and all the time, too

and they're so random???

they'll be in the middle of a test and he'll ask the teacher "how's your marriage doing right now? how's your partner, are they doing well?"

lowkey gets kicked out of the class daily

now spends most of his time playing cards with the secretary in the office

bram sometimes gets sent there as well, just because he's in the mood to take a nap

however, he doesn't really say that, he'll make up some kind of excuse like "oh it's my medical condition, I have limited energy" because he's paraplegic, even if it's bs

he's also that one edgy kid who sits in the back of the class discussing the end of the world

he??speak??so??oddly??

"death cometh for thou," like dude okay no need to talk like that???

the only person who actually understands what he says is fyodor, the reigning chess champ in the school

he's also very tired all the time, but he doesn't sleep, he'll just answer a few questions here and there if he's forced to, just to shut up the teacher

does the absolute bare minimum effort to pass class because he thinks it's all useless

"you have great potential, and I'm sure you understand all the material, fyodor, so with just a bit of effort-"

"thank you for the advice."

gets up and leaves 💀

fukuchi is the gym teacher that yells all the time and tells students to do pushups just because he feels like their face is mocking him

everyone either loves his class or dreads it

nikolai is fine, he's not all that athletic but he can run pretty decently and, worst case scenario, he just needs to bug the teacher and get sent to the office again to complete his game of poker with the secretary

fyodor hates gym class

with a burning passion

I CAN'T EVEN ENVISION HIS STICK-LEGS RUNNING PROPERLY SKJGKSJFG

hides under any large object and waits it out

bram is in a wheelchair so he just smugly looks at coach like "haha sucker!", only to be given dumbbells and told to do upper body workouts

now, fyodor and bram are hide-from-gym-class buddies

sigma is in preschool

yk since he's like 3 years old-

CHUBBY CHEEKS

he's so precious unlike all the other toddlers, but he does cry a lot

A LOT

LIKE WAY TOO MUCH

"sigma, you have to share your blocks with our friends, okay?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

the caretakers still love him tho

BABY SIGMA BABY SIGMA BABY SIGMA BABY SIGMA

hunting dogs

jouno and tecchou are the upperclassmen, which is surprising given how many braincells they share between them

jouno is hands down the pretty popular jock on campus and all the girls FALL TO THEIR KNEES

he does get in trouble every once in a while for bullying people or threatening them, but he has practically seduced the principal at this point, so it's no biggie

tecchou is that one kid who raises their hand in class and gets everything wrong

he's great in gym class, though, seeing as he likes to work out in his spare time

some girls try to approach him while he's doing his own thing and staring at the ground but he's like "wait."

"...wait? for what?"

"the ants"

"...the ants???"

"you were about to step on them."

girls have now stopped trying to approach him

tachihara is the Bad Boy™ with Family Issues™ and Inferiority Complex™

he gets in trouble A LOT

unlike Nikolai, it isn't for harmless questions or disturbing the class, it's for beating up someone else and egging someone's locker and placing a pin on the teacher's chair and-

needless to say, the teachers hate him with a burning passion

he's taking teruko as his apprentice in chaos, given she'd be around two year younger than him

she doesn't get in trouble bc (assuming this is a different school and everything) the gym coach fukuchi defends her in front of the school staff ALL THE TIME since she's his favorite student

she's surprisingly good at most subjects, except...

m a t h 

she screams and throws a full-on tantrum by tossing her math book outside the window then setting it on fire because this girl CANNOT survive variables and constants and graphs and parabolas

fly high, math notebook 😞✊🕊

[wormswurld]

give us ur cattonquick or ollie and felix headcanons can be nsft!!

omg of courseeee i would love to! thank you for the ask 💖

🌟 ollie:

- absolutely loves the way felix smells. will always sniff his clothes, know if he’s touched someone/something, and will proudly smell felix when they are close together!

- hands, hands, hands; loves how big and veiny felix’s hands look and definitely would want to be choked by felix…im just saying ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

- definitely a sadomasochist! is into degradation, spit, praiseeee 😊, marking of any kind (is a biter & bite-e if you will..) and all that

- gets off to the idea of pinning felix down and or having him on his knees

- humps felix’s leg like a dog OKAY. like that man has a thing for felix pressing his feet on his dick #not sorry bout it’

- face slapping….😵‍💫 (felix slapping him in the face with his dick…)

🌟 felix:

- is a sucker for holding hands during sex 😭

- definitely a pillow princess ™

- HAS THE BIGGEST ORAL FIXATION EVER.

- also has a praise kink, like of course he wants to hear ollie call him a good boy and say he’s doing well, he’s The Sir Felix Catton hello?!

- into degrading ollie…..for example calling him a slut for wearing his birthday party outfit

- possessive as HELL. will give you the death stare if you even bump into ollie

- laughs during sex, likes to be silly and crack jokes here and there, ollie says he hates it but deep down he obviously doesn’t

these are all the ones from the top of my head but i can make a whole post about them if u want more :D thanks again 💖

[epithet-beloved]

Yo!! Could you maybe make a Giovanni + One of his minions, but they suffer with chronic pain and fatigue? I suffer with these but id totally still enjoy crimes so id love to see something like this! (The eepy gets to me sometimes but 🖕 it, crime time)

GIOVANNI + READER WITH CHRONIC PAIN/FATIGUE

synopsis… Giovanni with a minion who experiences chronic pain and fatigue

ft. Giovanni Potage, The Boys (mentioned), Molly Blyndeff (mentioned)

tags… epithet erased, can be read as romantic or platonic, reader has chronic illness, fluff, reader is one of Giovanni’s minions, crime time fun times

word count… 735

a/n… I’m not familiar with chronic fatigue or pain, so I hope I did a good job! Inclusive fanfic is very important everyone deserves the comfort character content ✧ 🦄

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He is so accepting of literally anything you tell him, it’s almost enough to make you weep.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Like the first time you explain some of your limitations or that you can have off days where you can’t do much or can hardly do anything, he just smiles and says “alright!”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It damn near brings you to tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something weird?”

“No, no, just…..” you smiled, making no effort to hide the tiredness behind it. “You didn’t….ask me why I couldn’t just work around it, or ask me to make an exception for you, or anything, you just….said okay?”

“Pffft,” Giovanni scoffed at the very notion. “The hell would I do that for? You know you better than I do!”

You resume crying.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It’s seriously such a breath of fresh air to be with somebody who isn’t constantly offering unsolicited advice the second your condition becomes inconvenient to them. Giovanni is a lot of things, but a know it all is certainly not one of them.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Whenever Giovanni has a suggestion or a piece of information he found that he wants to present, he phrases it as a question to you because you’re the one who knows most about your health and he doesn’t want to Mansplain(™). In fact, mansplaining is strictly prohibited in the Vincent Murder Bad Guy Rulez, so that sort of stuff won’t stand.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Of course, all the boys follow these rules, too! If anyone is unaware of your needs they will get a very enthusiastic interruption by Giovanni while he insists they let you explain. Yeah, he always lets you explain yourself first. It’s amazing.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You will be accommodated anywhere, anytime. Feeling faint during a walk? He’ll find the nearest place to sit. Hell, he’ll sit down and let you rest on his knee or something. Real villains know how to protect their minions at a moment’s notice.

“Hold on.” You grabbed Giovanni’s jacket sleeve to support yourself, instantly catching the tall male’s attention.

“Woah, you good?” You answered by leaning on him even further, feeling your legs fail you at the most inopportune of times. “Here, let’s sit down a minute.”

Slowly, he would sit down on the closest available bench, guiding you as to not have you collapse. The second you were safely seated, you felt him pull away from you. At first, this confused you, but your curiosity was resolved when you felt a jacket drape over your shoulders.

“There. Can’t have any of my minions freezing to death, after all!”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 One of Giovanni’s love languages is food, so if you let him, he will give you homemade soup when you’re feeling under the weather. He understands you don’t have a cold or anything — it’s just a gesture he does to let you know you’re always on his mind.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 If you can’t attend a Cool Crime Event(™) because you’re feeling under the weather, Giovanni will have you on speaker on his phone the entire time so you can still chat and engage with the Boys.

“Ben said he stole a bag of chips in your honor today. We can drop it off later!”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Accessible crime is VERY important to Giovanni. Villainy is an art and should be able to be practiced by anyone and everyone! This results in him getting more and more creative with his antics to include you if needed. Prank calling from Crusher’s treehouse is always a classic, and pirating a movie is one of the best crimes of all! Fun for the whole evil family!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You and Molly can be tired together. Once, when Giovanni had invited you both over, he found you two asleep together in front of the TV. He sent a million pictures to everybody he knows.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 There is also time that Giovanni makes sure to reserve specifically for you. Being included in a group is important, but so is one on one attention! These hangouts are highly customizable to whatever your tastes are and whatever your energy levels are for the day. Even on days that you may insist you’re cranky, tired or not great to be around, he’ll still be there for you if you let him!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 And if you need time to yourself, no matter what the reason is, then he’ll make sure to always have a new fun surprise planned for when you’re ready to wreak havoc again.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

ash beloved, as a prince of woe and misfortune (a fibromyalgia haver) can i request some jameson on a bad pain day

the current vibe is 'i need to pee but my legs are fucking screaming and i havent even moved them yet and my shoes feel too tight because all my peripheral joints are getting inflamed' and i feel Terrible bc i used to be able to just ,, do stuff and now i cannot because of the evil 'You Have Pain And Doctors Don't Know Why' Disorder™

i am not sure whether i want to revel in shared misery or schadenfreude but i am sure i want to see a guy in pain

Anon, my gift to you and my sympathies for your Whole Body:

CW: Chronic pain, self-harm (brief, self-hitting), self-loathing, aftermath of whump, recovering whumpee

-

"You pushed yourself too hard, that's all." Nat tries for soothing, but when she puts a hand out to touch his shoulder, Jameson shoots her a furious glare and she carefully shifts it back again. "Right. Okay. You have to take things slow, honey, your legs-"

"-are goddamn fucking useless, yeah, I get it. I got it." Jameson's rasping voice is thinned to little more than a whisper as he hunches over himself, sitting sideways on the couch with his legs out on the cushions bent at the knees, refusing to straighten. He slams a fist down on his thigh just to feel a bloom of new pain that's is brighter and new compared to the eternal goddamn throbbing of the old. It's... nice. He tries it again on the other side.

Jesus, how fucked up is this? That this is what helps?

"Hey, hey now," Nat says, and before he can do it again she takes his wrist in her cool hands and holds his arm steady. "Not your best idea. I didn't call any part of you useless, that isn't what I said, honey."

"I wanted to walk to the goddamn gas station." Jameson glares at her hands, but he holds still under her deft, gentle touch. He doesn't pull away, or hit anything, he just... sits here, his knees shifting and muscles twitching in a pointless attempt to escape what's inside of them, what's as much a part of him as his own breath in his lungs now. "It's less than two miles. Less than two! I used to-... to run, on the treadmills in training, for fucking five miles, ten miles, no fucking sweat. My handlers told me I had a record for going so fast. I could run for fucking days on end, if I had to! Now..."

He groans, dropping back against the arm of the couch, even angrier when hot tears burn against his eyelids, trying to force their way out.

"Jameson-"

"Now... I can't even fucking walk."

"You do have the crutches, and the chair you can use, I know the sidewalk runs all the way past the gas station-"

"I wanted to fucking walk, Nat! I felt really good this morning! This shit didn't start up until I was putting on my fucking clothes! I shouldn't have fucking needed the goddamn fucking crutches or the stupid fucking chair!"

He grabs almost sightlessly for the crutch leaning against the couch, has it in his hand, and pulls his arm back to throw it.

"I hate this fucking shit!"

Nat's hand closes back around his wrist, and this time her grip is like iron, and Jameson feels his rage wither when he meets her steady hazel eyes.

"Jameson. You are not going to throw that."

Nat rarely uses this voice. Not with him. But now she does, firm and even stern, brooking no appeal. If she wasn't Nat, that voice would be an impossible turn-on. He'd be on his knees, not that he could do that without screaming any longer. He'd be begging her for... anything.

If she was Nanda...

No one's ever going to be Nanda. Not ever again. He pushes down the sharp, if finally slightly faded, spike of pain.

Nat refuses to let him look away this time. "Listen to me. That crutch is a tool, not a weapon. It was a gift, and it is a gift for you. It lets you go places you could not go before. Just like the chair. So if you break it, it's broken, and you lose that tool. Please, honey, don't cost yourself something that helps by getting angry at it for being needed."

"I didn't need it, before," He whispers, and she takes the crutch away from him, laying it down on the floor. He lets her do it. "Even when I was on the run. I didn't need this shit until I started getting better, and it feels like I'm just getting worse."

She nods, and holds his hands in her own. The ache in his fingers fades a little when they warm to each other. "Your body is incredible," She says, voice low. When he scoffs, she shakes her head, smiling. "Come on, let me finish. You survived two people who tried to kill you."

"Technically five people have tried to kill me."

"Five?" Nat looks, briefly, so baffled that Jameson nearly laughs. "You've only mention the two-"

"Those were the two where I killed them first," He says, voice low. "I don't even feel bad about it."

"I know. And I'm not asking you to feel bad. I've done some things in my life I'm not proud of, too, but it kept this safehouse together and I don't regret it for a second."

"What... what did you do?"

"We're not talking about me. I'm saying that you lived when other people died. You have survived more than any other runaway I've ever met. Your body carried you through it. It kept you alive. It kept you moving, kept carrying your weight when it wanted to give out because you hadn't given up fighting. Now, it doesn't have to carry you so far anymore. Your body knows you're safe, that you have people here who care about you, so it's hurting like hell because it hasn't allowed itself to hurt as much as it needed to for a long, long time. Your body carried every bad thing that ever happened to you, and I for one am grateful for it, because it got you here to us. Look at you."

Jameson shifts, trying to move his legs so he can face her. They protest with a scream that he has to grind his teeth against, but he manages to get both feet flat on the floor. "Look at me?"

"Yeah. Look at you. You're alive, honey." She smiles, hands on either side of his face, and he finds himself - reluctantly - smiling back. "You're alive and you wake up every day and sometimes the days are good, and sometimes they're not-"

"Like today. Today sucks."

She laughs, short and soft, and he loves her so much it is physically painful, the way that you love a mother, or a sister. "Yeah, okay. I'll give you that. But today is just one day, and you've got more comin'. Maybe tomorrow you can walk to the store, or maybe you'll need the crutches or the chair, but you know what? You'll still get there, if you want to, because you are the most stubborn son of a gun on earth and if you want those awful taquitos, I know you'll find a way."

Jameson's smile shifts. Incredulous, he asks, "Did... you just say 'son of a gun'?"

"Oh, shut up. I grew up in a family where that was just about the worst thing any of us could say without serious punishment. Sometimes that stuff still comes out." She pokes him in the nose, watching him wrinkle it in response.

There's a pause.

Then he clears his throat.

"It wasn't, uh, it wasn't taquitos." He discovers he's mumbling, flushing a little.

"Oh. Doughnuts, then?"

"No, not those, either, just... it's stupid. But Vince, uh, the other day he made this stupid fucking joke about Red Bull, so..."

"So..." She blinks, eyebrows furrowing. "You were... going to buy him a Red Bull?"

"I was... gonna buy about fifty and put them in his bed."

Nat just stares at him, blinking, as seconds stretch slowly out. "You were... you were going to-"

"Buy like... fifty Red Bulls and put them in his bed, uh, cover them in his fucking blankets and like arrange them like a person, and then... you know... It, uh, makes better sense in context."

"How could it possibly? You know what, doesn't matter. Here's what we'll do. You get those crutches on your arms, and i'll drive you to the gas station, and we will... we will get you your... fifteen Red Bulls."

"Fifty."

"Oh, my God. Where do you even get that much money?"

"... Vince gave me money."

"You're using his own money to prank him?"

"It's not like he fucking needs it!"

"You know what? I'm going to stop asking questions when the answers only give me new questions to ask." She pats his arm, and he takes the opportunity to brusquely throw an arm around her and crush her tightly to him in a hug. "Jameson-"

"Thanks," He mutters, then pushes her back and away so he can clumsily get on his feet. His knees nearly buckle, but when he throws his hand out Nat is holding the crutch, and he slots his arm into the cuff that fits just below his elbow. Nat has to hand him the other one, and help him with his shoes, and the whole time his legs ache like someone is slowly sawing them off with a nail file, but he stays standing.

He wants to play this stupid fucking prank on Vincent fucking Shield, and he can already tell it's the only thing he'll be able to do today and even that's only with Nat's help.

By the time they get back from one single errand he'll need more painkillers and a nap just to recover enough to finish putting the energy drinks into Vince's bed. Then maybe another nap after that.

But it's what he wants to do.

Fuck it.

If he only gets one thing to work on this shitty day, it might as well be the most bafflingly confusing thing he's ever done.

Plus, Nat always plays Jameson's playlist when she drives him in her car. So that's one good thing.

-

[cevans-is-classic]

Gettin' Hot (Something Unholy)

Warnings: ADULT CONTENT BELOW 18+ only! Unprotected sex, curse words, Bucky Barnes.

Marvel and Bucky are here

My Masterlist and Seb can be found here!

“What’s going on?” He grinned, a nervous laugh on his lips when you shoved at him. Your strides had a purpose, sweat still on your temples and the lines of your arms, your fingers red from athletic tape. His eyes followed your every move through the apartment — mouth going dry when asked Jarvis to queue The Song™ before you winked at him and disappeared into the bedroom.

“You didn’t answer me!” He shouted, settled into the couch, legs spread then brought back together before deciding to go with casual and comfortable and spreading them out again. It’d been a long day, a longer debrief once they’d gotten back. (Steve was his best friend, but the man went too hard on paperwork considering how impatient he gets when stepping foot in the tower)

You’d been with Nat in the gym for half the day — he’d wanted to come home and wrap you in his arms — he understood. He'd been gone for a week, stuck somewhere humid with Clint complaining in one ear and Steve trying to be in charge in the other. Your routine didn’t change because Bucky got home days earlier than planned.

There was a thunk followed by a mumbled curse. “Be patient it’s a surprise.”

Yeah, you said that too when he asked why you were shoving him into the elevator, making him leave behind a good plate of spaghetti.

“Okay, okay. Jarvis, you mind turning on the television?” He scratched his neck, nerves wringing his stomach, fingers twitching on his thigh.

“They have informed me not to tell you, Sargent Barnes.” Jarvis answered back.

His eyes cast towards the bedroom door, cracked open, light spilling out into the dim room. Should he turn the lights up? No, it’s your surprise. If you’d wanted the lights turned up, Jarvis would have done so already.

“Mind cluing me in some?” He joked.

Jarvis stayed silent this time — the lights dimmed though — a chorus of voices filled the silence of the living room and Bucky jerked in surprise. The bedroom door swung open — one leg coming out first, a black sheer stocking pulled up your leg a red thigh harness holding it into place. Oh, two of them. 

The couch wasn’t as comfortable.

The music started picking up, another voice drawling out lyrics that fell on deaf ears when you slinked into the living room towards him

“Holy fuck-” Bucky stopped breathing.

Your hips moved with the music, hands trailing up and down your body with each roll moving. The grey sweats you’d started in got swapped for something a lot more revealing. Your chest hinted beneath a sheer bra showing off your nipples, red patterns draw his eye up your torso, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. Bucky moved to stand, reaching out wanting to touch — everywhere. You shook your head, forcing him back down onto the couch to turn around and drop with your legs spread. 

“Doll-” Words died in his throat when he saw your ass wrapped in matching underwear, cheeks curved by the hem the thigh garters snug around your legs. Your thighs jiggled when you bounced on the balls of your feet once, twice, three times before spinning on your knee to face him again.

He forgot how to blink. 

The music kept going, rising and falling with each sinuous move you made towards him. Bucky watched your every move, eyes tracking your chest, your hips, those thighs — you stopped right in front of him to turn back around and lean forwards at the waist, back arched, your ass (God your ass) shaking as you bounced up, down and up again. You backed up with each pop until you could turn around with your left foot, right leg coming to rest your knees on either side of Bucky’s thighs. 

“Like what you see?” You rode his lap, never dropping, your head tossed back, exposing the line of your neck, the swell of your chest, the brush of your ass along Bucky’s cock. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself anymore. 

You gasped when he gripped your left hip his right hand moving up your thigh to squeeze and knead with the roll of your hips. 

“Baby — I can’t explain how much I like what I see.” He moved his fingers up your thighs, shadowing a touch over your heat and then up your belly, causing you to shiver and lose rhythm for a beat. He leaned forward, metal hand moving to the small of your back to balance you, lips aiming to feel the swell of your chest, but you grabbed his hand.

“James.” You let his flesh and blood fingers crawl up your chest, allowing him to roll a nipple beneath the fabric that made you gasp once more, silencing the sound by sucking his fingers into your mouth and dropping your ass into his lap.

Bucky moaned, tossing his head back enough to catch a breath, coming to you and watching you roll over him, your ass grinding down into his cock over and over, tongue laving over his fingers, back arching into his metal hand. He wants to fucking taste you. He needs to fucking be inside you.

“Jesus,” the garters made your thighs spill over, a feral burn burst to life deep inside his stomach, catching his skin on fire. He watched you flex your legs garters straining in a mouth-watering show. Your tongue pushed his fingers out of your mouth, swollen lips parting with a gasp and Bucky started forward with a jerk but you were faster; moving off his lap to turn back around and drop back down, legs spread, hands on your knees to slide down your thighs and push yourself back up, following the curve of your back. You moved onto his lap again, back to chest, bringing his right hand to your chest. His fingers were still wet. He rolled a nipple the best he could as you shimmied in his lap, making his dick ache to fuck into you. 

“Baby, fucking shit-” You grabbed his hand again, sliding it down, down, down into your underwear, moving his fingers along your clit.

“I practiced.” You kept bouncing up and down. How long was this damn song? Wait, did it restart? It was still floating around the room, swelling; pulsing in his ears. 

Bucky rubbed your clit, feeling you twitch each time he brushed over the bundle of nerves. Your head fell back to thunk onto his shoulder. He didn’t hesitate to lick the spot beneath your ear that made you shiver, his thumb circling your clit, his fingers dipping into your heat — you thrust forward, choking on his name. 

“James-” How were you still moving the way you were? Breathing heavy, chest rising and falling faster. He moved his left around your waist tugging you further back your ass grinding down onto his cock back and forth, fucking yourself on his fingers. 

“Yeah?” Bucky loved whispering dirty things into your ear, loved hearing you groan and beg for it — he couldn’t think of a single thing to say besides yes, please, more. You were melting his brain far better than anything Hydra could have done. God damn. 

“Guess what?” He let out a breathy laugh, thrusting up when you flexed your ass against his lap. 

He dropped his forehead onto your shoulder. “Doll, I ain’t got a single idea what you want me to guess. You’ve rushed all my blood from my head to my cock, which is aching to be inside you.” 

This time you chucked, “Good.” You shoved at his hand whimpering when his fingers pulled out. 

“Hell no.” He grabbed at you as you shook your head pulling your underwear down in one swift move and climbing into his lap — God damn gym shorts are the greatest invention of humankind — you had his cock out and inside of you before Bucky could curse at the sudden cold air.

“Oh holy fucking, - god damn- fuck!” His whole body tightened, his orgasm rushing forward fast — too quick — it made his head spin and the pain from biting down on his tongue flood a copper taste in his mouth. 

“Yes.” You groaned, rocking yourself back and forth. Was he allowed to thank Hydra for a moment? A small groaning prayer to whatever fucking asshole pumped his body full of bastardized serum — you were hot, wet, the perfect clench around his cock that was still fucking into you with increased vigor. The orgasm seemed to push Bucky even further into the fire.

The orgasm seemed to push Bucky even further into the fire. 

He grabbed you. “Hold on.” His come spilled out when you bounced, making a squelching noise followed by a squeak when he picked you up and dropped you onto the floor to pull your leg up and around his waist.

“Please,” Your hips met his match for match, moving faster, airy cries of more, harder, there, there, there, “James.” You clawed down his back, tugging his shirt, the neck pressing into his throat enough to make it harder to breathe, vision swimming. Hello, kink you new in town? 

Buck kept fucking you, metal hand holding your ass up, holding you close to him. Your legs kept spreading wide and then closing back around his waist. He dropped his head for a kiss, letting his shirt choke him further to lick into your mouth. You groaned one leg coming back up, heel pressing into his back your hands moving from his shoulder to his ass to push him hard, faster, your gaze dropping; watching him move in and out — come and slick coating both of you.

“Baby-” 

You jerked your eyes back up to his before your whole body went tight and you cried his name out loud, heat pulsing around his cock, squeezing him tight. He kept his hold on your hips, kept moving you even as you whimpered beneath him. His balls tightened, thighs burning — he needed to feel you once more hear you scream his fucking name. 

“James.” your head made a cracking noise when you came again. This time Bucky followed, coming harder, deeper inside. His whole being became where he pushed into you. 

When you shoved at him he moved, easing you onto the floor, rolling onto his side and pulling your head up to check where you’d slammed it, “Carpet. I’m fine.” You breathed. 

Bucky nodded, letting himself fall beside you. 

“Question?” He turned his head to look at you. “Where did that come from?” 

You smiled. “Nat and Tony gave me a few ideas. I wanted to see if they worked.” You looked at him, winking when Bucky let out a huff of laughter.

“You gonna give an old man a heart attack, Sweetheart.”

Bucky caught you when you moved back onto his lap and shoved at his shoulders. “That a challenge?”

His cock twitched.

I'm not kidding when I say I wrote this in an hour while having a very curious panic attack that had me convinced if I didn't write and post this that I'll od on antibiotics or something

My paranoia is very peculiar

[the-flaming-nightmare]

Tagged by the wonderful @anewkindofme! ❤

With the new season of The Boys airing, my fixation has returned Big Time™ lmao, so I've started on a Little!Hughie fic because DAMN is this fandom deprived of agere content for him! Here's a bit of what I got so far:

Hughie quietly hummed to himself as he finished up decorating the legs of the coffee table with stickers. After sticking a strawberry cake sticker next to one of a milkshake, Hughie leaned back to admire his work.

Each leg had a different theme. One was decked out in dinosaurs, one in animals, one in hearts, and the one he just got done with was of different kinds of sweets. It looked way better now than it did before.

Hughie smiled to himself and gathered the remainder of his stickers in his arms, standing and making his way over to the TV. His work wasn't done just yet.

However, he only got four colorful fish stickers in before he was interrupted by the deep, English voice of his daddy.

"Oi, what do ya think yer doin', lad?"

Hughie turned on his knees to face the older man. Butcher stood next to the couch, hair still wet from the shower, and arms crossed over his chest as he gazed at Hughie with a raised brow. The boy just grinned up at him, though, knowing his daddy wasn't really upset with him. In the brief time the man's been his caregiver, Hughie's quickly come to learn the difference between "Serious For Real Daddy Face"and "Playful Serious Daddy Face."

"Decoratin'. Everything's so sad and boring in here."

Butcher failed to stifle a laugh at the kid's response.

"Well, can't say you're entirely wrong there, lad."

"I can continue decoratin', then?"

Butcher gave the coffee table and TV a once over, before breathing out a small sigh and shrugging.

"Eh, why not. But just the TV and that's it. Alright, mate? We still got'a image to uphold, after all."

Hughie gave an enthusiastic nod of understanding. "Okay, daddy!" He immediately turned back toward the TV and resumed covering the edges in the bright and sparkly fish stickers.

The little boy ended up decorating one side of the TV in fishes and the other in cars and trucks. He leaned back on his heels and looked over his shoulder at his caregiver, who now sat on the couch with his laptop in his lap. Probably doing boring grown-up work. Yuck.

"Daddy, lookit!"

Butcher looked up from the laptop and over at Hughie, seeing the boy pointing at the TV with a proud smile on his face.

"Well, would ya look at that. Looks like we've got ourselves a much more colorful lookin' telly now. Good job, Bambi."

Tagging (if you wanna): @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard, @si0writes, @autisticalastor, @nottapossum, @tomwise, @stemroses, @deevotee, @androgynousblackbox, @tryan-a-bex and anyone else who wants to join!

[blake-elladonna]

Hey, love your writing btw. So I was wondering if maybe you could write a Chuuya x gn reader comfort where the reader wanted to go to a city she has been wanting to visit her whole life but when given the chance it couldn't happen.

@Anonymous

Hi, Anonymous! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so touched you love my writing 🤍 I hope this request lives up to your expectations; although it did turn a bit into a hurt/comfort. 🤍 Enjoy and feel free to request again!

Homebound

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝟒𝟒

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟏 𝐦𝐢𝐧. 𝟒𝟏 𝐬𝐞𝐜.

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: For as long as Chuuya — your significant other — could remember, you’ve always yearned to visit your dream destination; but when that is unexpectedly taken from you, Chuuya scrambles to find a way to comfort you.

Chuuya rested his head against the door trim, “Are you gonna come out?” He asked. A stabbing pain cursing his heart with each of your muffled cries from inside your shared bedroom. “Can I— Can I come in at least?”

The bed creaked and your footsteps caused him to lean up. But when the door opened, it was only a crack, “Why?” Your voice was quiet and broken. Chuuya slid his foot in between the door. “Because,” He said. He tilted his head to look at you yet you didn’t make any movement to do the same. “I wanted to see you. Do you know how much of an asshole I feel like when I’m just stuck in the hallway listening to my significant other crying?”

You didn’t answer his question but you did step away from the door without closing it, sitting back down onto your bed that was infested with tissues, dishuffled blankets and untouched snacks. “You are an asshole. You should feel like one.”

“Okay. I deserved that.” Chuuya sat on the edge of the mattress, pushing all of the miscellaneous objects to the side. “But look, I’m sorry. I know apologizing won’t change anything but I don’t know what else to do. I’m an idiot for not checking before we got there.” You scoffed at that.

“A whole gun, Chuuya. In an airport.” The way you said it stabbed him in the back. “This was the first time I’ve ever gotten a chance to go. I’ve always wanted to go and you knew that. Everything was perfect. The ticket was on sale and everything; and then my boyfriend carries a gun and gets us both kicked out.” Your eyes swelled with tears but this time you looked him in the eyes as your lip quivered, “I was so excited.” Then he heard your sobs again.

Forcing him to watch your head fall with your shoulders trembling. He pushed himself up with his knee, crawling to hold you until you hid your face into his leg. “I’m so sorry.” He said.

← Previous Drabble Master List Next Drabble → 💉 Best medicine ♡ Exceptions ♡ 🎊

⇐ Last Chuuya Drabble Next Chuuya Drabble ⇒ 💉 Best medicine ♡ Infatuation ♡ 🎊

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭? 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

© 2023 @blake-elladonna™ — all copyrights reserved. Please do not translate, steal, repost or claim my writing or ideas as your own. Click here for further details.

[meowzfordayz]

Hello!!! Happy Valentine’s Day!! 🌹 wishing you a wonderful day and sweet smooches!

Congratulations on your milestone! Thank you for providing us with soft and heart warming writing ✍️ ;-; and for being such a sweet moot. For your 15.0 event, may I request SFW “I love you” for Tanjiro?? :3 Here’s to another year of writing!

MILESTONE 15.0

Hihi !! 😁 Ty for participating in my event — I hope Feb's treating you kindly. 🥰 Totally random, but I just realized my 1 yr anniversary on Tumblr was like, 2 days ago. 🥴 Cheers indeed to another yr of writing !! 🥳

Song Inspo: I Like The Sound Of That by Rascal Flatts

CW: mild sexual content

"It's 2am," you yawn, eyes blinking tiredly, "Go to sleep."

Squinting, Tanjirou flicks your nose, heart fluttering as you let out an indignant squeak, "No."

"Rude!"

"But you're so cute," he grins, bumping your thigh with his knee, "All sleepy and cuddly."

"You're sleepy and cuddly," you huff, kneeing—much harder—at his groin.

"OI!"

"Go to sleep."

"How am I supposed to sleep if you kick me in the balls?" he pouts, rubbing carefully—placatingly—at your knee, his own legs crossing (a protective measure).

Shrugging, you tug the comforter up and over your head, inhaling the soft, warm scent of recently washed sheets and freshly showered Tanjirou, "I missed."

"And you're not going to make another attempt?" he chuckles quietly, grin returning at the adorable lump of you under the covers.

"Hm," you respond nonchalantly, cool fingertips making their way toward his bare stomach, "Maybe not."

"What are yo- AHHHHH!"

"Everything okay?" you hum innocently, savoring the surprised flex of his muscles, palms pressing eager along his sides, mouth nuzzling fond and satisfied at his chest — a stark contrast to the uninhibited, gleeful torture of your cold palms.

"You're! So! Mean!" he gasps, eyes squeezed shut, resisting the urge to jerk away, hands gripping gentle at your shoulders as though to brace himself, "You'reluckyIloveyou!" gulping for air as your ministrations continue.

"Oh hush," you mumble into his skin, beginning Phase 2™ as your feet go in for the kill, outright cackling when his body goes rigid, plaintive whimper burying itself in your hair at the touch of your frosty toes, "You signed up for this."

"I! Did! Not!" he whines, grip tightening, teeth gritted, internal mantra of I love them, I love them, I love them the only force keeping him in place.

"Did too!" you declare, smooching wetly at his collarbone, "Thank you for being my favorite space heater!"

"I take it back," he huffs, shivering despite himself, "You're not cute at all!"

"But I am sleepy and cuddly," you retort, "Aren't I?"

Disgruntled, he pulls lightly at your ear, endearment audible in his tone even as goosebumps creep up his forearms, "Absolutely."

"Are you cold?" you coo teasingly, fingers grazing the curve of his pelvis, "My favorite space heater's struggling."

"Nope," he mutters, "Not cold, not struggling," stubbornness narrowing his eyes, "I might start sweating, actually."

"Sooo I can use them then?" you ask sweetly.

"Use what?!" he swallows nervously, immediately on alert.

"The forbidden hand warmers!"

Shortly thereafter, Tanjirou almost wishes you'd just gone for another knee-to-balls... your contented sigh hardly enough compensation for his embarrassing shout and consequent shuddering + the temperature shock and potential flash freeze death of his sperm.

—

"You're dramatic," you giggle, wiggling upward to meet his begrudging gaze, apologetically kissing his forehead.

"And you're cruel," he scowls, expression quickly breaking into an exasperated smile, because I love you, "You better sleep with one eye open!"

"Ooh is that a threat, my sleepy man?"

"YES."

[liloinkoink]

hey what if i said i had more lamplight. we once again hop to somewhere random in the timeline and just run with it. you can consider this part one of… an actual plot event™

The catalyst is, of all things, a joke. Not even a particularly funny one, which really makes the whole thing all the more ridiculous. It goes something like this:

Night falls, and with it drops any of Martyn’s motivation to keep traveling. Sure, his lantern usually keeps the beasts at bay, but he can only do so much about the ones he wanders into when he walks by himself.

As such, as soon as his tired feet find a proper clearing, he’s settling down, leaning his lantern against a tree to begin collecting the supplies that will soon become the base of a campfire. Said lantern dims to a low red, his god already complaining about what has rapidly become his least favorite routine.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Martyn comments as darkness rushes into the clearing, “I’d think you want me to starve.”

There’s a loud pop inside the lantern. Martyn doesn’t look, instead walking off to find enough stones to set up the site of his campfire in the meager moonlight. His god’s refusal to cooperate and light the clearing makes this task significantly more difficult than it needs to be, but Martyn isn’t above complaining about it.

“I did say when we met that I wasn’t a pious man. I don’t know what you expected from me.” Martyn says, picking up a couple of stones. He doesn’t need that many, since his god is perfectly able to keep from burning out of control without a designated site, but he likes to think the offering of a decorated campfire mitigates the sin of using his god as a grill.

The clearing gets no brighter. He arranges a few smooth stones on a clear patch of grass, making the beginnings of a neat circle. The lantern sizzles.

“It’s just more efficient to have you help me out then to light a new fire. No need to collect kindling, significantly less smoke in my eyes…” Martyn looks up, pushing his bangs out of his face so he can level a stare across the dark clearing, “Would you be happier about it if I started praying before meals?”

His god’s light doesn’t get any brighter. A no, then.

“For the best. I don’t really know any prayers like that. I’d be rubbish at making one up,” Martyn says. He puts one hand to his chest, then raises another in the air, “‘O divine being of holy light, please help me cook my pork chops right.’ Or no, maybe… ‘Guide me to grill without mistake, so the perfect potato I might bake.’ Okay, no. I have to stop, I’m making myself hungry.”

The clearing lights up gradually to the sound of a crackling fire. He huffs, turning his attention back to the ground, a fond smile on his face.

“You know, m’lord, if you really didn’t want to help me cook, you could always say so,” Martyn says, “I get it if you don’t want to be the repeat subject of sacrilege. I’m not going to hold it against you that long if you decide to, I don’t know, vaporize my dinner.”

The lantern splutters, but the clearing doesn’t get any dimmer. Martyn knows his god would never—they’ve made too many meals together for Martyn think his god anything other than offended at the notion he wouldn’t help him with anything, no matter how far below his station.

Martyn can’t imagine most gods he’s heard of being willing to put up with half the things his does, or spending their time doing menial chores. He’s heard of other gods wiling to smite even their most devout for less than the sort of thing Martyn pulls every day, and yet.

Martyn smiles to himself. He arranges the last stone, then pushes up from his knees and onto his feet.

“You’re not a usual god,” Martyn muses, dusting off his pant legs, “but I’m not a usual paladin.” He turns toward the lantern, “So I’d say that works out for us.”

His god doesn’t make a sound, but the light from the lantern burns into a soft, hazy gold. His god’s smiles may not be traditional, but Martyn’s learned to recognize them when he sees them.

Martyn walks over to his god’s side, stopping to tap the glass with his knuckles. The flames inside bend toward the point of contact, and Martyn draws his hand back to see the brief appearance of a handprint inside.

Ever since the tavern fire, his god’s been appearing more like this—a hand, an eye, a smile. The fire’s rarely big enough to fit all of him, but Martyn relishes the glimpses when he gets them.

“You’re a bit of a sap, you know?” Martyn says, instead of any of that, though the fondness in his voice betrays him. He unhooks the lantern from its staff, holding it in both hands. Even the metal is colder than it should be—hot, sure, but never enough to burn him.

“And that,” Martyn stage-whispers, lifting the lantern up to his face, “is how you get away with using a god to make dinner.”

The lantern sizzles, rattling the latch. Snickering under his breath, Martyn walks back and sets the lantern down by his ring of stones.

He unhooks the latch and reaches in with both hands, scooping up the fire inside. Despite his god’s complaining, the flames are only as warm as a hand held in Martyn’s own.

“Besides, I know you like the excuse to come out of your lantern,” Martyn says, raising the fire up to once again be level with his own face. His god doesn’t respond to that, which Martyn takes to mean that he’s right. He laughs, and the light runs gold. “Too bad. If only you weren’t fire, then I could never use you to cook again.”

The fire in Martyn’s hands explodes. His god is fireworks, large and loud and bright and sudden, detonating in Martyn’s face.

Martyn jerks back, holding his god away from himself in a too-late attempt to spare his eyes from the flash. The fire in his hands sparks wildly, and the ribbons of buffeted flame writhe as if Martyn were sitting in a wind storm.

“What on Earth was that for?!” Martyn yelps, blinking in an attempt to clear the stars burnt into his retinas, “Dude, ow. I know I said you could say something, but I didn’t mean you should blind me in the process!”

His god has shrunk back down to a normal size, but he’s still white-bright and sparking. Martyn’s never seen him agitated like this before.

He snaps to his feet, casting his eyes around over his shoulder, his god held close to his chest. It’s easy to see the edges of the clearing with the fire in his hands so bright, but there’s not a thing around. It’s not alarm, then…

“Are you… excited about something?” Martyn asks, looking back to his hands. The fire brightens further, and Martyn turns back the last few moments in his head. “Because I said… you didn’t have to cook anymore if you weren’t fire?”

Rapid crackling. Frantic sparks. Martyn can hardly see his own hands for the blinding light held within.

“I didn’t think you would be so excited about the idea you wouldn’t have to cook anymore,” Martyn mutters, “But unless you know how to—… Wait.”

His god blazes so bright, Martyn may as well be holding a star. For the first time since they met, the heat against his skin starts to feel a little too intense, but Martyn doesn’t dare put him down.

“You’re joking,” Martyn says. More frantic sparks and flailing movements. His god is starting to look a lot like a very angry cat trying to desperately tear through a sealed bag.

Suddenly Martyn understands the explosion, because he feels like he could scream. If he had to guess, he’d say that his god’s probably trying to.

“Oh my god,” Martyn whispers. He slides down to ground, a graceless decent that’s more falling than it is sitting. “Is that— Could you— What do—…” Martyn trails off, “Have you just been waiting for me to say something like that this whole time?”

A starburst of sparks. Martyn laughs, a note higher than normal.

“That’s not something you can just do, is it?” Martyn asks. The fire gets dimmer. “Right, of course not, because why else would you let me carry you around in a box all the time if you… ” Martyn trails off, moving the fire to one hand so that he can run the other through his hair. He has so many questions, but there’s only one that matters. “Is… How do I help?”

[gayhoediaz]

Buddie sex headcannons for when they are older and not in the honeymoon phase anymore, please

oh you KNOW this is my weakness i want to write so much more of this but okay okay okay (and my sleeping pills should start to kick in while i’m writing this which is when you get the best stuff cause my filter goes away ❤️)

because of the life they lead, and how much they love each other i think there’s this thing that happens where they’re turned on by the signs that they’re getting older - together. that they’re growing older together. the first time eddie finds a gray hair, he tells buck about it, and buck is on him so quickly neither of them even really have much of a chance to react, it’s just. buck doesn’t even know why at first, but it’s just. so hot. at that point they have seen each other in every possible state a sexual, face down, ass up, legs spread, tied up, soft, and careful and romantic and rough - and not sexual, crying, sobbing, sick, barfing, scared, happy, relieved - they know each other inside and out. literally. but the idea that there is so much more to come? and that they are going to get to grow and fall in love with new versions of each other each and every single day for the rest of their lives? be there for every gray hair and knee replacement, and wrinkles, and hearing aids - and god, not even the scary things way way into the future scare them because with the life they lead, experiencing together is a privilege, and it’s one they never ever take for granted.

following that, the first time eddie gets reading glasses, i think eddie doesn’t originally tell buck about it - not on purpose, but it’s probably just a stressful week or two - so buck just comes home after an extra shift, takes a quick shower, and then walks into their bedroom to see eddie reading a book. in reading glasses. and that book is taken out of his hands and thrown to the side and replaced with buck’s weight in his lap, trust.

i think once they settle into their routine and while chris is still living in the house, most of their sex is morning sex - but it doesn’t make it any less filthy. eddie will slap a hand over buck’s mouth and close his teeth around the lobe of his ear and whisper shit like “you gonna be quiet for me? you gonna be good?” and buck will just nod frantically as eddie fucks him as deep and hard as possible without the bed frame rocking. verse often, of course.

however i think they also do always take advantage of an empty house (or hotel room when when they can afford it for special occasions) and fuck nasty just the same they used to do all the time. i don’t think that changes even when they get Older™ hitting their 70s and 80s they may not be able to go as long and buck may not be able to spread his legs quite as wide - but the spirit is the same.

they just can’t get enough of each other, the passion never fades. ever.

[rjalker]

Here's my Flatland self insert character in a humanoid design. still making the canon-compliant version since it's not symetrical and also the power keeps flickering.

Editing the draft to say wow. Okay. This image description has now taken six hours to write because the power went out for five of them and my keyboard kept being messed up before that. Lol.

Enjoy. Assuming the power doesn't go out again before I can hit the post button.

Please tell me if the ID is missing any details, I've spent too long reading it to catch mistakes.

And yes, it picked its name itself.

[ID: An MS Paint character reference showing a Flatland style original character. The image has a white background and thin black border, with the date of "August 29th 2023" written in the lower right corner. Black text scattered around the image provides extra info for the things displayed, in an old-fashioned looking font with all caps letters and sharply curved lettering. The character's name is Hauntlight, and it uses it/its/itself pronouns.

"Literal", which is a black forked like with many small zig-zags making it crooked rather than straight, and "Humanoid", showing a stick figure with three legs, two arms, a round head, and another line straight on top of the head.

A small bullet point list in the bottom left corner reads: "Class: Criminal Job: Herbalist Age: 28 Orientation: Aroace Gender: Nunya" The character is vaguely humanoid in shape, with ink black skin with dark brown stripes on the ankles and elbows, a brown heart shape in the center of its chest, and three pairs of matching brown, stripes under the heart to form a rib cage, with the top pair of stripes overlapping with the heart on their points. Hauntlight has two arms and three legs, each bent slightly at the knee as though floating in the air. Its head is topped with a sharp point with a swooping, narrow base over its onion-shaped face, with a single large orange eye with a brown slit pupil in the center. It is first shown facing the camera, then turned to show its back, which matches the front. White cracks are visible on its hip, ankle, foot, shoulders, chest, and wrist. With its hands behind its back, Hauntlight holds a bright orange and yellow offset walking cane, which is labeled, "mobility aids required to be flourescent to aid persecution by higher classes". Two slightly smaller copies of its head show it first squinting, making it appear angry, with a question mark next to its face, labeled, "squinting because it's not allowed to wear eyeglass and it can't see". The next shows it with its eye widened again to normal, now looking off to the side. Around its eye are two circles of black and yellow, held onto its head by a bright orange diagonal strap, forming a giant monocular or single-lensed goggle. This is labeled, "Breaking the law, breaking the law".

In the top right corner, the different colors used in the drawing--black, brown, orange, and yellow--are arrayed in circles and rectangles. Two copies have been made of its three legs, with the copy for each showing the third leg recolored blue so that it is easier to see, because its skin is so dark it almost matches the black outlines. End ID.]

anyways can you believe they literally refer to disabled people as the Criminal Class™. And can you further believe there are people who read this book's blatant criticism of fascism and think the fascism is correct?!?!?!

Edit: Feel free to draw :)

[starryevermore]

“Hey you can marc spector x reader pregnant ? smut?” I am this request so i want marc comes back from Egypt and sees the reader in a short tank top that shows their baby bump and marc turns on the image

beautiful bump ✧ marc spector

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: “Hey you can marc spector x reader pregnant ? smut?” I am this request so i want marc  comes back from Egypt and sees the reader in a short tank top that shows their baby bump and marc turns on the image - anon

pairing: marc spector x pregnant!fem!reader

word count: 701

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), pet name (baby), not proofread

The worst part of Steven living in London, Marc decided, was the damn heat in the summer. The majority of the buildings in the city—in the country—were not equipped for air conditioning, and Marc was about ready to melt into a goddamn puddle. He’d almost prefer remaining in the desert than coming back to London’s heat wave. But, he supposed, there were some pros to it. 

When Marc walked into Steven’s flat, his breath was taken away. His breath was usually taken away when he saw you, an absolute goddess living amongst men, but this was different. It was so, so different. When you first told him you were pregnant, he thought he was ready for it. Well, not exactly ready, but he knew this was something he wanted. He sat with you every time you had a bad bout of morning sickness. He was there at your doctor’s appointments. He read every book under the sun so he knew how he could be there for you. But god, nothing could have prepared him for how fucking beautiful you looked carrying his kid. 

Especially now, with your tight little tank top and little short shorts on. You had half a dozen fans blowing on you, your tank top riding up your stomach, revealing that beautiful baby bump. Fuck. Marc just wanted to drop to his knees and worship you. 

Your head lifted as you heard him shut the door. A smile stretched across your face. You reached out, making grabby hands at him. “Marc! C’mere, I missed you.”

Marc surged forward, kneeling in front of you. He pressed a kiss to your bump, resting his cheek on it. “Hi, baby. Everything go okay while I was gone?”

You carded your fingers through Marc’s hair. “Mhm. Haven’t really left this spot too much beyond going to the bathroom and getting food.”

Marc hummed. “Poor baby. Must’ve been real hard, not having anyone to take care of you.”

“So hard,” you pouted. “Missed you so much. Was ready to start crying when you came in.”

“Oh no, we can’t have that. Can’t have my pretty girl crying at all, can I?” Marc sank a little lower on his knees, hooking fingers around the waistband of your shorts. “I think I gotta lot of making up to do, huh? Better get started right now, don’t you think?”

“Fuck, Marc, please,” you whined, throwing your head back. 

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you? How do you want me, baby? My fingers? My cock?” he asked, sliding your shorts and panties down your legs. 

You shook your head. 

“Oh, you want me to eat you out, hm? Want to cum on my tongue?” He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. He lifted one hand, starting to slowly rub your clit. “Mm, getting wet just at the thought of it, aren’t you? I’ve really neglected you, haven’t I, pretty girl?”

“More, baby, gimme more—”

And, god, you didn’t have to ask him twice. He buried his face between your legs, taking his clit between his lips. He pressed one finger into your cunt, then a second one, scissoring his fingers in you as he lapped at your juices. Fuck. Was it not enough for you to be so gorgeous? Was it really fair for you to taste so sweet, too? He couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have you. 

You let out a moan, tugging on Marc’s hair, trying to pull him even closer to the paradise between your legs. And of course Marc was more than happy to oblige. Marc pressed a third finger, relishing into how you spasmed around him. God. Marc could die happy doing this, making you feel as good as you make him feel. 

“Marc, I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead, baby, I got you,” Marc said. 

You came with a shout, your legs closing around his head as you rode out your high. Marc slowly pulled away, sucking your juices off his fingers as he rose up your body. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” Marc said, kissing you gently. “And you can expect a lot more of that, yeah? Gotta lotta making up to do.”

“Mm, better get busy then.”

[foryourownbosom]

Favorite Laukids headcannons?

hi anon ! so sorry im answering this just now, life has been chaos with uni and i havent had the time to properly respond 😔 BUT THIS IS MY FAV ASK EVER SKFJKSFGDSG ITS MY TIME TO SHINE .

ALRIGHT. i have LOTS of fav headcanons,,,, probably too many. based on the number i am ashamed to admit how much time i waste thinking about this family. so, im gonna *try* to pick some of my favourites and write them below! (beware, this is gonna be long. because of that, the headcanons are gonna be under a cut for anyone who might actually be interested in reading them 😭) to the ones who do, enjoy <3

SO OKAY my favourite headcanon of them all (and the one that i believe i kind of,,, developed the most?) is that each sibling had a specific flower name as a nickname, all chosen by eleanor. i like to think that based on the traits and personality she saw in her children, eleanor would pick a flower whose symbolism matched with the child in question. when calling them, she would adress the children by those flowers (eg. calling jack "my sunflower", nelly "my little magnolia", etc!)

in the case of polly for example (the last one born shortly before eleanor's death), polly had "sweet pea" as a name. eleanor knew she wasnt going to live much longer but still wanted to continue the tradition of nicknaming her babies, so she chose a flower whose symbolism typically means strength, departures and goodbyes. according to the symbolism, sweet peas mean "thank you for a lovely time”. eleanor wanted to, at least, thank polly for the time she could spend together with her last baby, as short as it was. (i wont get into details about every nickname bc i would ramble for too long 😭- i really wanna make a separate post or smth explaining that one day kdjgksdgd,,, but thats mainly the reason why the laukids have a specific flower for each of them when i drew the charts :"))

alright so thats the *main* headcanon i have. here are some other fav hcs that are not that,, extense KDJSKAF. they are pretty much random thoughts i collected throughout time:

one night, way past their bedtimes, nelly and patsy swore they saw ghosts on the graveyard while going outside to play. they swore to never sneak out and go out to play at night ever again

henri, john and nelly (ages 5, 4 and 3) would often make "mud stew" on poodles after it rained with literally anything they could find.

their favourite games were playing pirates, climbing, and playing hide & seek behind the oak trees

john slipped from a pretty high branch that bruised his knee. that left a big scar on his left leg that even as an adult was still visible

nelly was the first one of the girls who started playing the harpsicord, and patsy followed after her sister. nelly would teach her simple little melodies and play together sometimes. after nelly passed away, john usually sat by patsy's side when she played so she wouldn't be alone. he couldn't play of course, but he tried singing to accompany patsy on the little melodies she learned by her late sister

john had really good hearing and could replicate bird sounds with high accuracy. that caused the birds to usually come very near him and to not fly away. patsy called john a "bird whisperer" because of that

kids patsy and john once found an egg below a tree, and brought it home to take care of it. it turned out to be a carolina parakeet, and patsy named her iris. they taught her,,, french curse words. and thought it was the funniest thing ever. after a few months, they set her free

polly has the record for the sibling that broke jars and china cups the most (followed by jemmy, but he would argue that those were harry's fault)

also, now that we are on the topic of harry and jemmy: although most of the time they were inseparable partners in crime, sometimes they would fight over really small things (but to them of course, those things were. pretty big deals™) one some occasions, they were so crossed with each other that they would sit the furthest from one another at the table, and used john as their messenger for days bc they refused to speak directly to the other. they would exchange Very Serious Angry Letters across the room as if they were two opposed kingdoms, and john was in the middle delivering those letters. john always succeeded on the mission to cease the fights though, and as soon as he would fall for a prank, he annoyingly (but happily) knew jemmy and harry befriended again

jemmy once beat harry on a game of marbles (harry was considered the best player among the siblings) and harry was so frustrated he swore to never play again. (that promise lasted, of course, less than a week. and that jemmy victory was probably the reason why they didn't speak to each other for days)

when john was a toddler he once doodled over an entire set of letters of henry sr and he had to start all over again from scratch. that child had 0 awareness of space and he thought literally everything was a potential canvas to draw on-

he also probably drank paint water while using watercolors too many times ,, (artists' culture for ya)

the Main Kids (john, patsy, harry and jemmy) would often organize little plays where they created stories and whole worlds/kingdoms with their characters in it. at night, they couldn't be as loud so with the help of candles they played by creating shadows on the walls

harry stopped two of his siblings from eating,,, questionable AND dangerous things by pure luck . one, when toddler jemmy wanted to eat a worm. and two, when he stopped john from eating a poisoned berry. (the latter was originally a bit dark though so i wont elaborate much)

jemmy was almost 6 years old when he sailed with john and henry sr to europe for schooling (harry joined a bit later), so i headcanon that his first tooth fell around that time while on port, and he rushed to john and showed it to him :")

jemmy doodled the three of them (he and his two older brothers) on a piece of paper, and john almost cried. he kept the drawing safe on one of his books so it wouldn't get lost or damaged

eleanor would always sing lullabies to the kids before bed because it help them wind down. after eleanor's gone, the siblings usually asked john to sing to them because he was the one who knew and remembered the melodies the most. while abroad in europe, john promised harry and jemmy that he would keep singing them for as long as he could.

john finds comfort in the fact that, at least, the last thing jemmy heard was a lullaby from his mother, sang by john. he hoped that it brought him peace for one last time.

when john, harry and jemmy were finally joining patsy and polly in europe, little polly was euphoric and was literally asking every 5 minutes when were their brothers arriving. polly had no memory of them as they all sailed when she was a baby, so of course the excitement was over the roof. when she finally met her brothers, she was glued to them, specially john. polly asked for piggyback rides and races all the time, as well as asking his brother how to do "fencing with sticks" which he delightfully obligued to provide lessons.

polly also made everyone attend and wear dresses to her Very Fancy Tea Party™ once

polly is the #1 candy theft. harry, the #1 victim of her robbery.

during the war, john liked to stay up really late and sleep by the fireplace of headquarters, as he sometimes did that with his siblings. he would also keep things that reminded him of home

later on her life, patsy would tell stories and memoirs of her childhood with john to both frances and polly. her own children would listen as well and would wonder what it would've been like to have met him

this is all for now! if you made it this far, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. i love you dearly, truly 😭😭😭💖💖 thanks for coming to my TED talk my fingers are sore from typing a