#this made me smile so so much

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

hey!! i know i'm a little late, but it's always okey to ask <3 none of us are obligated to provide anything so it's okey to ask because there's alot of us and chances are atleast one is willing to provide anyways<3

anyways. foul legacy comfort brainrot. on the flyyy lets goooo

okey so imagine you come home to foul legacy. he's waiting ever so patiently on the couch for you of course <3 purring softly as he sees you enter the door. usually you're bursting with excitement because who wouldn't be happy to see him!! but today, you give him a half-smile n settle down on the couch with him.

not right next to him, head on his shoulder, as he expected, though. he whines in confusion as he watches you settle into the opposite corner, hands wrapped around your knees. and you aren't consciously aware of your body so tense he can practically feel the anxiety radiating off of you.

our favourite fluffy moth boi isn't quite sure how to react. what could possibly be wrong? should he hug you? would that make it worse? do you want to talk about it, if you even can? or would you rather he kiss you, make it all go away by trying to fluster you? he pushes these worries away, instead asking in a low, guttural voice: "rough day?"

you nod slowly, trying to fight the tears threatening to spill up out of nowhere. "i'm... fine..." you manage, fighting off everything else you want to say. you can't find the strength in you to say anything else, lest you accidentally spill out all your troubles and worries to him. after all, how dare you even think about bothering him with things that don't mean a thing. too little, small, to be worthy of attention. it'll be okay. you'll be okay. you'll make it through, somehow, and even if you don't, as long as you don't bother him with such minuscule things -- even worse, how could you be so weak as to let these things bother you? -- he'll be okay. you'll be okay as long as he's okay.

foul legacy reaches across to gather you in his arms. "i know you're not okay," he whispers softly into your hair. "it's okay. tell me about it, i want to help you. <3"

your eyes widen in surprise, and then slowly, begin to let it out. the smaller stuff first. the things that don't really matter, so he won't worry too much. but before you know it, you're already talking about the things that really have you so anxious and tense and you stop midway through your sentence. ".. oh my god i'm sorry i don't want to make you worry.. i didn't mean to.." you mutter, eyes fluttering close, anticipating a negative reaction.

instead, his arms tighten around you and you feel a low purr start from deep inside his chest. it cracks the tiniest of smiles on your face, and he can feel it. you've always appreciated the way you try to mimic the apparent healing properties of a cat's purr in his own way. "it's okay, y/n. i'm always here for you. everything's going to be okay. you're going to be okay. i'll make sure you're okay."

this is so relatable tho oh my moon and stars- it's exactly what i needed to be told thank you so much <33

the way he holds you, the way he gently strokes your hair, the way he tries his best to speak for you, even though you both know how difficult it is in Foul Legacy- it reminds you of how he would comfort you when he was still human, and perhaps Childe knows this from how he keeps murmuring to you, even though you can hear his voice growing horse. some part of you wants to tell him to stop, that you don't want to trouble him anymore than you already have, but he squeezes your arm gently like he knows what you're thinking and the words die in your throat. instead you simply turn and cling tighter, burying your face in his fluff, and you hear him purr contentedly.

Childe smiles when you hide you face in his lilac fur, because he can feel the tension, pulled taunt like a worn string, drain from your body as you let out a weary sigh. it's so nice to make you feel safe, feel cared for, after you've done so much for him. you've always been so stubborn about not "troubling" anyone, especially him- luckily Childe's just as stubborn in getting you to spill your worries, because even just talking about them will ease some of the pain. gently, he pats your hair and purrs louder, resting his chin on your head. he knows you'd go to the ends of Teyvat for the people you care about, yet won't even spare yourself the time of day, and Childe wants to change that so, so badly.

but it's hard, see- hard to accept help or acts of service or even just an open ear after so many years of rejecting them, and he knows you're trying your best but it's a long process. that's okay, though, Childe is patient, having learned from the many hours he'd spend waiting for you to come home, and he's especially patient for you, like you are for him. he'd help you grow and accept that it's okay to take breaks, it's okay to need a rest, or to vent or cry. it's okay to be something other than happy all the time, because your troubles mean just as much to him as his own do to you, and he's not about to let you forget that.

[whiteshipnightjar]

Zoozve, my beloved

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

he's squeaky toy. to me.

[paperultra]

back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

[willowser]

i really think having an emotional connection is so important to bakugou sexually.

like, i think he has to be in the exact right mood in order to get off by himself at home alone. can't be too tired, can't be too stressed out, can't have too much on his mind regarding work or other things, and even if it's been a while and his body is sensitive and wanting for it—if his head is not right, he can sit there for hours and never reach his peak.

which is why i think ultimately he doesn't do it that often, because it pisses him off to waste the time and not find the release. makes him more agitated. i think porn for the most part doesn't help him because he's too picky, literature probably helps a bit more, but he's still picky, and his imagination can get him there, but his headspace has to be right.

i think he's slow to hands-on stuff, when your relationship starts, and you can tell he's going to be like that pretty quickly. he responds to your touch like it's an accident; you reach out to hold his hand and he pulls his back like your knuckles have knocked by chance, like you're too close. it's not meant to be a rejection of any kind, it's just—he doesn't want you to touch him if you don't want to. if you don't mean to.

but when he realizes that you mean to, that you want to—

it has him skyrocketing. surprises him terribly, the affect you have on his body, and how quickly, because not even he can always have that affect on his own body.

you reach up to push some hair out of his face and your fingers skirt his cheekbone and he feels like a stupid gross disgusting puddle of mush. you loop your arm through his and lean into him while you're walking and he feels like a prize, like he's yours and you're his and you want everybody to know and that gives him a rush of pride that makes his head woozy.

he's dropping you off at home after date number he-doesn't-know and you're staring up at him outside your front door and he knows he should kiss you so he does and his whole body lights up with a heat he doesn't recognize at all. just from that.

and then he finally gets it: that heart-aching, stomach turning, body shaking want he's only ever heard about, and now finally feels.

[babyleostuff]

brain fluff rot. cause red hair sulky baby cheol is on my brain.

you were working at home because its a saturday. so while you and cheol is at home. he decided to be clingy while you do your project at your computer. he would pout tho when you stop petting his hair. (so beware!)

- 🖼️

i love your brain so much, how do you always come up with the fluffiest and cutest ideas ever 🫠

okay, so finally the day has come - you and cheol are both at home, at the same time, together. he has a day off, doesn't need to worry about anything (except for if he should get up at 4 or 5 pm or maybe stay in bed for the whole day), and he has a whole day for you and kkuma with no schedules.

except you decide to be a responsible adult and do some work which is so??? hello, he's right there, half naked in bed, all warm, bulky and cuddly, and you still prefer to work on your project instead of cuddle him in your bed. this is unacceptable, and cheol does not tolerate this behaviour.

you don't have to be looking at him to know he's pouting, with his lower lip jutted out adorably (do i have to mention his big sparkly eyes, begging you to come back to bed?). and oh my god, why are you so stubborn? he's been looking at you like that for the past hour and you still don't pay him even an ounce of attention. and choi seungcheol, general leader of seventeen, age 29 needs attention. a lot of attention.

at this point his hands are itching to touch you, like he's practically screaming "PLEASE HOLD MY HAND, BABY". eventually, he somehow succeeded in persuading you to come to bed with your laptop, mumbling something about it being more comfortable than your chair (even though he himself bought that chair, the most expensive one, to make sure it would be very very very comfortable and good for your back).

the second he covers you with the blanket his head is on your chest, and arms are tightly wrapped around you (he won't let you get away for the next couple of hours) (the rest of the day probably), and as a cherry on top he places your hand on his head clearly signalising he wants his head pats.

and you do just that, a bit amused with you boyfriends neediness. nonetheless, you keep patting his head, and running your fingers through his red hair strands that have already began fading, and stroking his cheek, and running your thumb over his hand that is resting on your tummy. all that to make up for the audacity to leave him alone in bed.

dare to stop petting his hair, though, and you're met with a very very whiny choi seungcheol, who starts talking in pout how you have betrayed him, and that you don't love him anymore.

this man just wants to be babied, i don't care if he's a hard dom or whatever - CHOI SEUNGCHEOL IS A SULKY BABY.

EXHIBITS OF POUTY RED HAIRED CHEOLLIE:

[clouvu]

Offering lil doodles of them bc my eyes have been opened

[mehh141]

Barry Sloane being adorable (mostly just smiling and laughing) on Dan Allen’s interviews 

2021/2022 

[dushku]

THIRTEEN HORROR FILMS THAT SCARED TF OUT OF ME!

tag rules: select 13 horror films that at one point in time terrified the hell out of you (gifs optional)

tagged by @pascow

tagging: @moonlight @rachmcadams @stuart-townsend @saw-x @mikaeled

@xenobites @j0el-miller @dhawanmasters and anyone else who wants to do this!

[juliavaccina]

Rowlf really struggling to understand he's a puppet in Muppets on Puppets

[ghuleh-anima-mia]

The Luddites shun the diabolical A fecal trail across the land Although it Stinks, feels and looks identical A pack of fools can take the stand

[turquoisemagpie]

Appreciate the little things.

Not to ignorantly deny all of the big bad things in the world, but to survive them.

[cressidium]

MARY SHELLEY (2017) Dir. Haifaa al-Mansour

[ashiyn]

ashy i fucking love u for all the gifs ur making of the irl stuff, it makes me so happy

stop i might just start sobbing, have a cute zed and tango gif that i haven't posted yet as a massive thank you,

[kitamars]

enmi gintoki…………… orz

[robinson-graves]

( They all love you!!! )