#the dynamic is mwah

[hendolish]

This might be a weird pairing, but can I ask for Jude/Marcus ficlet?❤️ I don't know if you saw the last england video with Dec and Madders, they were so funny. Maybe something fluffy and them bantering each other? Thank you if you take it!

jude bellingham/marcus rashford | new love ♡

As the morning training session wraps up at St. George's Park, most of the squad rush to the changing rooms, keen for some downtime.

Jude, however, with the ever-infectious enthusiasm of youth, stays to practice his finishing in front of net, scoring effortlessly over and over.

"Oi Rashy, bet you can't do this."

He shouts cheekily over at Marcus as he makes a point of taking his shot without looking. Marcus just shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips as the ball slots into the top-right corner.

"You're such a show-off." He teases as Jude grins back over at him, his eyes lit up in the way they always are when there's a ball at his feet.

“Just trying to impress someone.”

Jude winks, his voice dropping to a playful whisper meant only for Marcus as he shrugs.

Dec, passing by and forever keen to hone-in on some banter, comments through a cackle, "Impress Gareth, you mean? Good on you, Jude."

Madders, following closely behind Dec, smirks, "Leave the lovebirds be, mate. We’ve got a game to prep for."

Jude's cheeks flush slightly, but he laughs it off like he always does, making a playful jab at Madders. Marcus, however, remains stoic, a fortress of calm, but Jude notices the hint of a blush on his cheeks.

As the group disperses, Jude takes a bold step, pulling Marcus to the side.

"You alright?” He asks more quietly, genuine concern in his eyes. He knows everything is very new between them and that it'll take some getting used to. Especially the banter from the other lads.

Marcus sighs, the weight of the new feelings and their uncharted relationship pressing on him, "It's just... new, Jude. All of this. I've always been more... private about how I feel. Even with my mates."

Jude smiles softly, reaching out to gently cup Marcus' face.

“I know, and that’s okay. But you don’t have to hide from me.”

Marcus leans into the touch, relishing in the warmth.

“I’m not used to someone caring this much.” He admits almost solemnly.

“Well, you better get used to it,” Jude teases then, the playful gleam back in his eyes, "I don't plan on going anywhere soon."

The two share a grin between them, the moment intimate and light. But as they make their way back to the locker rooms, Marcus’s phone vibrates with a message. Glancing at it, he can't help but chuckle. It's Dec.

“You’ve got a keeper, mate. I'm happy for the two of you.”

Marcus thinks it's a nice sentiment, even if the message is followed by a variety of suggestive emojis in true Dec style.

Jude unashamedly peeks over Marcus's shoulder to read what it says, “Dec’s got a point, you know.”

Marcus rolls his eyes, though his smile gives away his amusement, “Oh, so now you’re teaming up with Dec?”

Jude just smirks, pulling Marcus into a playful headlock, “Always good to have backup!”

-

The next day at training, the playful banter continues.

Madders is the key culprit, cheekily passing comments whenever Marcus takes a shot, "Trying to show off for Jude, eh?" or when Jude's busy chatting to one of the other lads, "Look at that! Marcus, you've got competition!"

But despite the jests and teases, it's clear to everyone that the bond between Jude and Marcus was only growing stronger and wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

-

Before their first game of the international break, Marcus, feeling particularly daring, pulls Jude close.

“For luck,” He whispers, planting a soft kiss on Jude’s forehead. Jude looks pleasantly surprised but recovers quickly, testing the waters, “You’ll need more than that to last the match.”

Marcus chuckles, the sound deep and genuine, “You might be right.”

Jude, with a teasing smile, stands up from the bench to plant a quick peck on Marcus's lips. “There, now you’re set.”

Dec, who'd caught their interaction despite the bustle of the changing room, raises an eyebrow from a distance.

“Think we’ll win today,” He tells Madders.

Madders just smirks as he pulls on his socks, “With that kind of morale boost? Absolutely.”

And the two of them share a knowing glance, silently cheering on their two friends as they watch their hands tangle tightly together.

♡

[skysmadness]

i love co-leaders klance

(og post)

[abstractfrog]

SILVER BLAZE PART THREE - happy jonkday everyone. one of these days i'll draw a scene that doesn't take place at night

[cryptiqish]

ahahaha what if we kissed but we were both batshit insane, wreaked divine vengeance and had parallel religious motifs

[flu0rspar]

“Lady, I got six reasons why.”

“No, mein freund, nine!”

(Or I guess 8 in this instance)

Total Time Taken ≈ 12 hours

So… My last drawing of Nightcrawler that I posted on here is sitting at (as the time of posting this) close to 2000 notes! Which is crazy to me!!

Biggest of thank yous to everyone who liked, commented and reblogged the post, and hello to everyone who gave me a follow because of it - I hope you enjoy your stay!

[fiasco95]

The Black sisters being the overprotective and feral older sisters to Regulus.

Andromeda: I’m sorry to Sirius but the moment we saw that Potter boy—

Bellatrix: We knew—

Narcissa: —that we wanted him for our Reg.

The black sisters nodding and agreeing,

James: Yes. I thought so too.

Andromeda:

Bellatrix:

Narcissa:

James:

Bonus

Sirius: What’s going on here?? Why was I not invited??

Sirius:

Sirius, pointing at James: Better yet, why are you here???

Regulus: What in the ever loving fuck?

[katabay]

obsessed with the dynamic they have in mk1 like. ohhhh that is a MESS, I love it

[ellitx]

Entrapment | Alastor x Reader

Okay, hear me out. Alastor being a darling husband he is with his darling wifey is cute and all, but what about a darling wanting to escape from Alastor himself?

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alastor is enough to be a warning already, depictions of blood and gore, toxic and unhealthy dynamic

When you were still alive, he always had his eyes on you and controlled you like his little puppet. You hated it, you hated being commanded and controlled for every little thing you did and if you even dared run away from him, he’d always manage to find you. You hate every atomic part of his existence so much that you’d be willing to kill yourself just so you could escape and get that taste of freedom.

But you can’t and he won’t let you.

Alastor would never allow the tip of the knife nor even a simple piece of office equipment reach your hands. And if someone has the audacity to touch his play toy, it’s time to say goodbye.

You know he’s a malicious murderer, and he knows that you know about it. If you’re feeling brave enough to tell it to the police then go ahead, because by the time you report this to them and leave the station, the next day you find yourself throwing up yesterday’s dinner upon hearing the cops were all dead.

No one will ever believe you that the infamous radio host of your city is a murderer. For a puny citizen like you, what power do you hold to convince everyone? They’ll laugh it off and say you’re crazy.

But it’s crazier how they are all deceived by the facade he puts on. His knife plunged into the chest of your coworker, their blood spluttering on his cheek.

Alastor’s wide smile was strained and wicked, the image of the blood dripping from your head and lips when he entered the broadcasting booth was as clear as his collection of polished knives.

The audacity to lay a hand on you and push you down the stairs. Do they have the right to push you off? Of course not! He’s the only one who could torment you until you break!

He’s the only one who could tarnish your being and leave a wounded mark on your soul and heart, a reminder for you there’s no one but himself who could make you so powerless and helpless.

Do they have the right to make you so confused? To put all the blame on you, as if you were the worst person in the world? To try their best to tear you apart piece by piece? Because, after all, it’s always the fault of someone else, right? The audacity to hurt you more than any human has ever hurt another human being before… The nerve to be sure you will never find true happiness again because you're now scarred for life.

He thrust the blade again, the rains of scarlet droplets continued to pour until his face and glasses were doused.

But he didn’t let it hinder him from making sure they were as good as dead. He lifted his head and took a glimpse at the sky above. It was gloomy, gray, and dark. Not much sunshine.

Alastor smiled, stabbing the knife at the corpse's chest before wiping off his glasses with his clean napkin. Then an idea clicked onto him.

It's the perfect time to give you a little visit.

He laughed under his breath and stood up straight.

He knew his outfit was not in good condition, but oh well... Perhaps, he’d instead leave a gift for you on your porch. Oh, how he wished he could make an unexpected appearance, just to witness the shock and horror on your face as Alastor comes to the hospital drenched in a coat of glistening crimson.

The anticipation of your reaction fueled his excitement, the more he thought about it, the bigger his grin became. If this would truly happen, it will surely be a sight to behold.

Still fragile from your time in the hospital, you stepped through the threshold of your home.

You missed the sight of its familiar structure, the only space you feel safe and protected, away from Alastor and your colleagues.

A sense of relief washed over you. The familiar sights and comforting aura of your own space enveloped you like a warm embrace. But something was different, something unexpected awaited you.

There on the polished surface of your entryway sat an elegantly wrapped box, its rich paper adorned with intricate patterns and tied with a luxurious ribbon. Your fingers traced the smooth edges of the packaging and you checked for any signs who sent it. Alas, no name was found.

Who could have left this for you? And why now, upon your return from the hospital?

You had a bad feeling about it.

As you carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the layers of paper, you stared wide-eyed at the contents hidden within.

Severed limbs, skin deathly pale and stiff.

Your stomach turned violently and you threw the box away from you, the gift spilling across the floor.

"Oh god, oh my god, what the fuck?!"

You were shaking. What was this? Was this a threat? A sick joke? Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, each beat pounding like thunder. You took a step back and stumbled, falling hard to the floor.

It didn't stop there.

Wounds inflicted on every part of your body, the scars on you began to open, rendering the healing done by doctors and nurses useless.

Wounds made by knives, claws, scissors, guns. Every imaginable instrument of torture. You cried out loud. Your voice pierced the quiet of the night, disturbing the tranquility of the neighborhood.

It was a perpetual and horrid nightmare. Just closing your eyes for even a millisecond, the image of his wide creepy smile flashed before you. You could hear his dark cackles, enjoying the sight of your vulnerable form as he tormented you in and out of your work.

“Run as far as you want, dear. In the end, I’ll always be ahead of you.”

The worst part was not knowing when he would strike next. He could appear anywhere at any time.

And it was all because of his sick game.

You didn't know what to do anymore. How long did you have to keep running from him? How many more days did you have to hide from the world? You were so tired of this, tired of having to live in fear of the monster that hunted you.

But God had finally heard your pleas and granted the wish you’ve been wanting for so long. So when the news came to you that the notorious radio host was dead, relief and happiness flooded every vein in your body.

You rejoiced, celebrating the death of the one who had terrorized you for a long time.

The nightmare was finally over.

The radio station was sullen by the news of their popular host, but you didn’t care. Your work became more efficient. You didn’t feel the need to be so wary and anxious by every move you made in the station. You have finally gained your freedom and the chain that was tied to him has shattered.

This was the best thing you could ever ask for.

Even on your deathbed, it was the best dream. Years without Alastor torturing and tormenting you was bliss. A man’s greatest wealth of freedom.

But then, the dream quickly turned into a nightmare, for it was never over. The demon who you thought was dead rose once again. It was only then you realized that he was never human in the first place. He was a monster.

And now, it was you who were caught in his web.

"My, what a wonderful reunion. Did you miss me, darling?”

The demon before you was mysterious.

Unfamiliar.

But his aura and voice screamed for you, the alarms in your body ringing, to run away from him as far as you possibly can.

The wide smile plastered on his face was all too familiar. Too familiar to be hated in the living and the dead. You’d be a fool if you didn’t recognize it.

You knew who he was. You just kept on denying what was the truth, brushing all the facts laid before you beneath the rag, and keeping your pretty little head away from the politics of Hell.

A demon who is powerful, dangerous, and cruel.

A demon who was feared by the other demons in Hell. A demon who is not to be messed with.

Alastor. The Radio Demon.

It was a miracle, or rather a curse, that you were brought back to life. But now you are a prisoner to this Hell. Trapped inside an inescapable cage with a dangerous beast, you could only hope that your second death would come quickly and peacefully.

But it seemed that fate was not on your side, and Alastor was the ever cruel demon. He did not scar you easily and instead prolonged your suffering, making your life a living torture.

Beads of sweat rolled from your temple. Your hands began to tremble and you felt yourself slowly succumbing to your fear. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

You were cornered, trapped.

Alastor had you where he wanted.

You watched him closely, eyes locked on him and every single movement. If he did something, you would see it.

"Are you frightened, dear?" he asked. His eyes met yours and he smiled. "There is no need to be afraid."

"Stay back! Don't touch me!" you shouted at him. The corners of his lips curled up, his smile turning sinister.

"Now, now, let's not act too hastily."

His gloved hand reached out and caressed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. His red eyes bore into your soul, burning with hunger.

You couldn't bear to look at him. You didn't want him touching you.

"Don't," you whimpered.

"Don't be afraid. You have no reason to be afraid."

Rivers of tears streamed down your cheeks as the fear overwhelmed you. You didn't want him touching you. This man... He was the same one who hurt you, who ruined you.

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"

The smile on his face grew wider.

"Do I need a reason? It’s obvious why we’re here," he replied, cocking his head to the side, eyes piercing through your eyes and consuming every little bit of your reactions in his head.

You gulped and stepped back, trying to create some distance between you and him.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He chuckled. "What a silly question! Would a little reacquaintance hurt?"

Reacquaintance? He was talking like this was a casual meeting. Like you were old friends reuniting. But this was the man who hurt you.

"What's the meaning of this?” You sobbed, shaking your head.

Alastor laughed loudly, his grin never faltering, and it makes you sick he finds everything amusing. An entertainment for his delight.

"You never fail to amuse me, dear. Aren’t you the one who killed me?” His antlers grew, his pupils changed to radio dials and his shadow stretched out of him, becoming more demonic in appearance.

You trembled. Your heart beat faster, your legs felt weak, and your mouth was dry.

"I... I…."

He stepped closer, and you stepped back.

Nothing came out of your lips. The words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. You didn't want to look him in the eyes but his gaze held your chin up high, forcing you to face him. He smiled, and his eyes turned back to normal.

The knees that kept you upright gave in, unable to stabilize you any longer as your body slumped onto the rough pavement.

"Oh, darling," he sighed, the radio static in his voice disappeared as he crouched down. 

Your gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding any chance encounter with Alastor's piercing stare. Instead, your eyes trailed to his cane, a silent witness to the tense atmosphere between you.

You dared not meet those fiery red optics that seemed to delve into the depths of your very being, dissecting every nuance of your expression. Fingers clenched tightly, you seek some form of solace in the texture of the barren earth beneath you, as though it could take you amidst the storm brewing within.

Alastor took your chin between his fingers and delighted your vulnerable form. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy and cheeks stained with tears.

"Fate has intertwined us together, dear. Run from me, I’ll always find you."

You didn't know what was more cruel—being brought to hell when you only wished for peace or being toyed around with him after death.

The nightmare you once thought had finally ceased returned to resume its cycle in the afterlife.

"I'll never get away from you..." You said, voice low and wavering. All hope was lost and so was your faith to continue living in this fiery pit of Hell.

"That's right. Good girl," He patted your head, taking a few strands of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. You fought the impulse to recoil, suppressing the urge to swat his hand away. 

The consequence of such defiance weighed heavily on your mind; after all, provoking one of hell's overlords was a gamble you weren't willing to take. So you held your ground, masking your inner turmoil beneath a facade of obedience, unsure of what consequences awaited should you dare to challenge the infernal authority before you.

In the dim light, his hand tenderly brushed away the tear tracing its path down your cheek. But as your eyes met his, a glint of something primal flickered in the darkness, casting an eerie glow upon his sharp, yellowed teeth.

Upon the moonlight, his crimson irises blazed like embers, drawing you into their hypnotic depths with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"But fear not, darling. I can promise you a good time. And now that I found you again, we can pick up from where we left off. It will be just like old times."

[homkamiro]

Omg dude your work genuinely gives me life like I legit do not have the correct words to explain just how much I love your speeding bullet stuff your art feels like a hug that's what looking at your art feels like

Awww,,that's literally one of the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me! I'm really glad I radiate that strong soft vibe from my art, it's my pleasure, thank you, anon!

And as an exchange - some speeding bullet shenanigans. Sniper doesn't like big companies and keeping promises

[kanwalcreations]

i love co-leaders klance

[skrunksthatwunk]

the debate continues (pt 1) but kurama gets called in

bonus under the cut (ft hiei):

gay people

[wisteriagoesvroom]

KINGSMAN SPIES LANDOSCAR!! honestly could put oscar in as harry (looks conservative and staid upon first impression but actually has an edge) & lando as the upstart newcomer who solves problems unconventionally but effectively nonetheless.

i passed a specialist shoe shop earlier today that specialises in leathers and i think there'd be something cool about cobbler oscar who keeps a very quiet shop. he's very reserved. has mainly old clients who he keeps in a handwritten notebook. he's carrying on a cobbler tradition of like 90 years and has trained with some impressive brits and everything. and at night he's the kingsman's service artillery specialist. he just pulls out rows and rows of stuff like Q and is like. "i'd suggest that one. you need a muffler in a place like king's cross station. easy cleanup."

and lando's some rich kid from millfield who has been thrust into the service because his dad sent him as a joke 'cus he's like, you're too coddled. you need to do it before you get your trust fund.

but it turns out that with the right focus and intention lando is actually a brilliant kingsman in the making. he definitely has an eggsy moment at training academy where he has to take out a bunch of trainers using only a ballpoint pen and a textbook or something. he's the only one who figures out that the ballpoint pen has different functions upon specific clicks. one of them is a nanorazor, and another is an incapacitating poison.

and lando, a little bruised, very tired, is about to go on his first mission. he's at oscar's shop, choosing shoes and trying not to glance at oscar and his still hands and his cool demeanour.

then lando is like, "wait. you designed the pen thing earlier didn't you? that was you." and oscar gets this glimmer of a smile and a single arched eyebrow that he presses back down, and is like: "yeah. did you like it?"

[afaramir]

actually legolas and faramir and eowyn should be friends. they spent like years in ithilien together there's no way they were just coworkers

[alicornze7]

Ragapom be upon ye

I will NOT provide any context for who asked for this ...... 👀

oh wowie the gals

I don't need context but that person knows EXACTLY what they're doing

[inafieldofdaisies]

Hit Man (2024) | Adria Arjona as Madison Figueroa Masters and Glen Powell as Gary Johnson

[happyendingsong]