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ravenssilver · 5 months

Note

Hey can we get some Mountain Dew cuddles? Maybe Dew had a rough day and just needs cuddles from the big man?

hnnnghfbfb… mountaindew:(

900 words of dew having a rough time and mountain knowing him well enough to see past his anger

i didn’t really get too into the bad day, so this is mainly comfort with a bit of snappy dew at the beginning. no cws :)

under the cut, if you please<3

Dew hated laundry duty. Hated it.

There was a constant flow of dirty clothes, someone in the ministry was a dirty freak and had clothes that were literally solid as a rock, and he wasn’t allowed to leave until all the clothes for the day were cleaned.

The Brother of Sin that was helping him was doing the exact opposite of helping. He had no idea how to do laundry, used hot water with non color separated clothes, and apparently had no idea what a dryer sheet was.

Dew eventually snapped and kicked the Brother out of the laundry room, making a very angry mental note to complain about him to Copia.

Though, even with the Brother being stupid, clothes were still getting cleaned while he was around, and now that he wasn’t, Dew was sure to be working for a lot later.

And then the laundry cleaner bottle exploded on him.

A towel may have been caught on fire…

When everyone saw Dew grumbling up a storm as he entered the common room hours after they had, they knew that he hadn’t had a good day.

“Dew! We made pasta! Do you want some?” Aurora asked, hoping to cheer the fire ghoul up.

Now, if it were anyone else, Dew would’ve snapped even after such a nice and tentative question, but this was Aurora, so he knew he couldn’t.

“No.” Dew said, albeit shortly. He then walked down the hall to his room, his tail thrashing and making clear he was pissed as hell.

Aurora looked back at the pack, getting head-shakes from the ghouls who had known Dew the longest.

“Honeydew,” Mountain spoke softly, his knuckles gently rapping on Dew’s door. “Are you alright?” Mountain asked quietly, hearing Dew grumble in response. Mountain smiled softly, expecting that response.

“May I come in?” Mountain asked, taking his hands away from the door. It was quiet for a moment before Mountain heard Dew drag himself out of bed and come over to the door, opening it and glaring up at the taller ghoul.

“You’re tired..” Mountain spoke, his voice gentle. Dew scoffed, upset that the tall ghoul could read him so well. “What about it?” Dew sneered, not in the mood to entertain anyone at the moment.

“I could make some tea. I have lavender in the kitchen, so it will help you sleep.” Mountain offered. “I don’t want your remedies,” Dew scoffed yet again, Mountain growing amused by the constant sound leaving the fire ghoul.

It was like he was trying to puff out smoke.

“That’s alright.” Mountain nodded. “What do you need?” Mountain asked.

Dew opened his mouth, definitely going to say something snappy. Though, he knew Mountain didn’t deserve that, and that he was safe with the bigger ghoul.

“A Mountain-Dew night…” Dew mumbled, glancing around before looking back at Mountain.

A Mountain-Dew night was a night where Mountain and Dew holed up in Mountain’s room, Mountain with some tea, and Dew with Mountain Dew soda. It was affectionately named by Swiss, though none of the pack really knew what happened on Mountain-Dew nights behind the earth ghoul’s door.

Everyone knew it was chaste and loving, but other than that they had not a clue.

Well, except Rain. But he could keep a secret like nobody else.

The earth ghoul smiled and nodded. “Do you want me to go get your soda?” Mountain asked. Dew shook his head, lacing his fingers with Mountain’s and walking to the bigger ghoul’s room.

Though, Dew halted and turned to the kitchen instead. Mountain laughed and gently pulled Dew back, shaking his head.

“I’ve had my tea for the day, Droplet. It seems tonight is a drink-less night,” Mountain smiled, pressing a kiss to Dew’s forehead and walking with him to his plant-filled room.

Dew remained silent, as he usually did during Mountain-Dew nights. Mountain didn’t mind, of course. He loved Dewdrop, both when he was silent and when he was loud.

Plus, Mountain would be a bit of a hypocrite to shun someone for being quiet.

Mountain led Dew into his room, allowing the small ghoul to raid his closet for his much bigger clothes. Once Dew returned in a sweater he looked like he was swimming in, he saw Mountain setting up a nest on his bed with soft blankets and pillows. An essential oil steamer was going, wafts of petrichor filling his nose.

“Rainy?” Dew asked, looking around. Mountain shook his head. “He promised Aeon that he’d stay in his room this week. I figured I’d get the next best thing since he can’t join us tonight.” Mountain spoke, his voice gentle as he did so.

Dew nodded and shuffling over, climbing into Mountain’s bed and helping him finish up the nest.

Mountain let Dew set up his side how he wanted, knowing not to interfere with the fire ghoul and his habits that helped him feel comfortable.

It wasn’t long before Dew was settled, his head nuzzled into the pillow Mountain used as he waited for the bigger ghoul to lay down.

As soon as the earth ghoul was settled, Dew draped himself over the bigger ghoul, purring as he heard Mountain’s steady heartbeat.

“Jane Austen?” Mountain asked, his voice almost silent. Dew nodded, his purring loud enough for Mountain to hear, but not obnoxious. Mountain picked up Pride and Prejudice, flipping to the page they left off at during the last Mountain-Dew night.

Mountain began to read, Dew’s purrs leveling out into a steady flow of utter content.

#ghost band #the band ghost #ghost the band #ravenssilver writes #nameless ghouls #dew ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #i feel like i’ve written too much angry dew #so this is more dew getting comforted <3 #and me sobbing over how much i love mountain in the background

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catscidr · 4 months

Text

natural remedy

cw: written in the third person, childe being slightly obsessive and weird, fluff and comfort to an extent. allusions to previous self-harm but nothing graphic, nonsexual intimacy includes: gn!reader, childe wc: 2,7k a/n: i wrote this a couple of months ago when i was sick and delirious and was just craving a strong russian bf (childe) to take care of me(༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) ssoooo if this reads weird it's because i couldn't rly process my own thoughts when i wrote it out LOL. i fixed it up as best as i could but i dont wanna spend my time rewriting 5 whole pages...... posting this and then going through my inbox and Not answering asks in third person

Equipped with a backpack full of various sized logs, some berries he had managed to scavenge and a dead hare that he held by the scruff of its neck, the young man tossed his blade away, the weapon dissipating in the air as mist. Though the wind nipped at the small bits of skin he left exposed through his winter garbs, it was still enough to leave him shivering- even if he was used to the harsh winters of his homeland. The redhead had the misfortune to get caught in a scuffle with a wandering man and, though he usually reveled in any opportunity to get his hands bloody, this time he couldn’t allow himself to enjoy the bloodshed.

With his breath creating small clouds of air in front of his face and droplets of blood drying on his coat, Tartaglia had only one thing on his mind; to get back to the cabin as soon as he could. The sun was setting at a rapid pace- he looked up at the beautiful, hazy orange and pink sky and scoffed. He was still about half a mile away from the secluded cabin. He couldn’t spare any more time away from it and, with a determined scowl, picked up the pace of his strides.

Murmuring under his breath, the young man keeps on trudging through the thick snow as light began to grow sparser. All he could see was snow, dead trees and old, dried blood on top of the crystal white sheet covering the ground. Tartaglia readjusts the backpack on his back, making the straps around his torso tighter and continues his journey with an empty, quiet mind. Usually, he would walk the other way and seek out some more poor souls to fight in the tundra forest and even hunt for some more animals to bring back to his abode like a trophy, but the knowledge that his beloved was alone, ill and hungry wouldn’t let him rest and enjoy the joys of his crazed mind for even a moment.

He leaves a trail of prickles of blood behind him as he walks sluggishly through the snow. It would soon be covered by even more snow, as the snowstorm went on. Clutching onto the dead hare tightly, Tartaglia holds back the urge to mutilate the animal out of anger. Or was it frustration, or even maybe desperation? Bitterness?

No, nothing of the sort. All Tartaglia felt was a mix of disheartenment, defeat, and in some way even failure. It had been three days and his beloved’s physical state wasn’t getting any better- what was there left to do? He tried all of his mother’s home remedies that he remembered and yet they would stay bedridden, struggling to even lift their spoon up to their face to drink the warm, soothing broth. He felt powerless, like all there was left to do was to watch them wither away. It felt like the forest was closing in on him, the trees seeming taller and thicker the more he made his way through the storm. He shuddered, a shaky sigh leaving his chapped lips.

With a trembling hand he lifted his red scarf high enough to cover his nose, and tried to focus on getting home.

✧✧✧

“I’m back!” he shouts as soon as he opens the door of the cabin, doorknob hitting the wall roughly from the harsh winds whipping into the abode. Using his foot, he swiftly closes it and takes off his thick hat, soft snow falling on the wooden floorboards of the entrance. After a few moments of tinkering with the straps of the backpack, it drops to the floor with a thud and Tartaglia takes off his large boots, tossing them aside. He heads into the small kitchen area, placing the- now practically frozen- dead hare on the counter and then heads into the doorway, grabbing the backpack with a huff.

“Darling?” Tartaglia calls out, glancing at the closed door at the end of the hallway. He pauses, awaiting an answer. A million thoughts were floating in his head- was his beloved alright? Did they try to get out of bed and accidentally hit their head? They were most likely just asleep... but what if they got out and he didn’t notice because their footprints got covered by the snowfall? Were they stuck outside, cold and hungry, slowly dying as life faded from their frail body-

“Welcome back,” he hears a quiet voice say after a few seconds, right when he was about to shout again and make a beeline for the bedroom. Sighing from relief, the ginger runs a hand through his hair and grabs a handful of logs from the backpack and tosses them near the fireplace to fuel later.

He opens the bedroom door softly, peeking in at first before opening it fully, revealing the huddled form of his beloved in the blankets of their shared bed.

“How are you feeling?” the ginger asks softly, crouching to their level to brush away a few strands of hair that had fallen over their forehead. They groan, shifting to uncover their mouth from the large duvet- even just a motion as small and insignificant as moving their head was strenuous.

“Gross,” they say, voice hoarse. Tartaglia frowns but doesn’t move from his crouched position as he takes off one of his gloves, placing the back of his hand on their forehead. His brows furrow, displeasure clear on his face.

“You’re still burning up,” the ginger murmurs back. “And you’re sweating now. Have you taken your medication?” he asks.

He had been gone since early in the morning, having left to gather materials to sustain them for a bit longer while they both recuperated in the cabin. Although he wasn’t gone too long, Tartaglia had developed a habit of being overly protective of his beloved in the past few weeks. If they weren’t going to take care of themselves then he would do it for them- the fact that they got sick only further drove him to being as overbearing as he was now, so he wasn’t in the wrong for it.

“I’m too tired,” they slur, whining as they bury their face in the plush blanket once more. The fabric touching them made their skin crawl but as the uncomfortable feeling passed, they sighed contentedly.

Tartaglia clicks his tongue, displeased that they were being so uncooperative. But that wasn’t exactly unexpected- so he stands up and holds onto the corner of the blanket coddling the body in the bed below him and rips it off harshly. A startled whimper leaves their lips, and they immediately curl into themselves to preserve their (unregulated) body heat.

“You need to shower,” the ginger says with an unreadable gaze, his cerulean eyes scanning his darling’s body like a security camera would an intruder. “You sweat through the bed sheets and your shirt is sticking to your skin. Have you even gotten out of the room since I left?” he asks with a tilt of his head, seemingly not paying attention to the way his darling shivered and squirmed. They respond with a meek shake of their head, face buried in the pillow as they quiver uncomfortably because of how cold the air is in the cabin. The man says nothing in response, instead deciding to toss the duvet to the edge of the bed as he slips his arms beneath his lover’s shivering form, picking them up off the bed.

“It's good that you’re sweating your sickness away, but you still need to be clean.” he says tenderly, bringing them to the bathroom in a bridal carry. They tuck their face into the crook of Tartaglia’s neck, desperately trying to regulate their body heat- to no avail. The movement of the redhead walking was enough to bring his darling discomfort, making their skin tingle unpleasantly. Dazed and lightheaded, they don’t notice him shutting the door with his foot as he steps through the threshold of the bathroom.

Tartaglia carefully sets them down on the edge of the sink’s counter, his hands lingering against their skin for a moment.

“Strip. Your cold is gonna get worse if you stay in those sweaty clothes,” he says, bringing one hand up to stroke their hair. With a huff, they shake their head slowly, eyes cast downwards. Tartaglia frowns, sliding the hand that was in their hair down to their chin to lift their head up. The movement makes them grunt in discomfort, skin prickling unpleasantly. He sighs, heart clenching at the sight of his beloved in such a sorry state.

“I’ll run a bath for you, it’ll be nice and warm. You’ll feel much better when you get out, so just cooperate for me, yeah?” he says softly, though his brows crease in frustration that only ignited within him because he was just so worried for them. Reluctantly, they give in and nod, earning a kiss on the cheek from Tartaglia. He smiles, soft lips lingering on their skin for a second too long before turning around, crouching to turn on the bath’s tap.

The sound echoes in the bathroom, loud and overwhelming for the poor sick individual, shaky hands coming up to cover their ears. Tartaglia, still focused on trying to get the bath to be warm enough to be comforting but not too much that it’ll burn his lover, stays oblivious to the distress they were silently enduring.

When finally satisfied, he swivels around to pay attention to his darling, his calloused hands coming up to take their smaller ones away from their ears. “C’mon,” he murmured. “I’ll help you out of your clothes.”

Too weak to argue they simply nod, raising their arms as best as they could while Tartaglia grabs the hem of their shirt and lifts it up over their head. The fabric catches onto their arms, inducing in a sharp hiss from the sick individual, and Tartaglia mumbles a soft apology as he frees them from their sweaty top. The redhead notices them shivering ever so slightly; he wraps an arm around their shoulder, gently bringing them down off the counter to slip their shorts off.

“Step out of them for me,” he says quietly. Taking a wobbly step, they do just that while holding onto Tartaglia for support. He smiles, satisfied, and carefully guides them to the bath.

“I’m going to take off your underwear now, that alright?” Tartaglia asks for courtesy’s sake, holding their hand tenderly. They squeak out a quiet yeah and, without wanting to keep them out of the comfort of the bath, he rids them of their undergarments and helps them into the warm water as quickly as he can without putting too much strain on their body.

Now sat in the small porcelain tub, his beloved sighs contentedly, head leaning back to relax the strain on their weak muscles, comforting warmth engulfing their tired body. Tartaglia smiles at the sight; he quietly gets up to grab a wash rag and a bar of soap to help get his darling clean. Sitting on the floor next to the bath, he gazes at his lover’s closed eyes, love pouring out of his being. A few minutes pass of this- of Tartaglia carefully observing the peaceful expression on their face- before he speaks up again.

“Sit up, I’m going to start washing you now.” he says sternly, voice laced with concern. They shake their head stubbornly, too comfortable to move. “Baby...” he drawls, raising a brow at the attitude. “C’mon. Work with me here? Please?” he asks, lip jutting out in a pout as he watches his dear begrudgingly sit up, wincing at their muscles working overtime to do so. He smiles at that and gets the rag wet, lathering it with soap. “Thank you,” he murmurs softly, massaging their shoulders, suds beginning to form on their arm.

The redhead brings the rag down, down until he reaches their forearm which, thankfully, was out of the water without him having to ask. He sighs quietly, carefully running the washrag over the textured skin, thumb brushing over it in soothing motions.

“Feeling better?” he asks, peeling his eyes away from their arm back to their face. His eyes meet theirs, and he notices an almost disconnected expression on his lover’s face. But they nod slowly, exhaustion clear on their face though still lucid and aware enough of their surroundings. His smile falters slightly at their tired face, his hand coming down to hold theirs. Tartaglia rubs his thumb along their skin, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to their temple.

“That’s good,” he murmurs. “Can you turn around for me? I need to wash your other side,” he asks gently. Without answering verbally, they do as he asks and painstakingly turn their body, water sloshing lightly in the bathtub. The sight almost reminded Tartaglia of a newborn deer wobbling over constantly, except this time his darling was the doe. Grabbing the washcloth again, he scrubs away at their skin to get them clean and comfortable again, cloth washing away the bad bacteria. He carefully scrubs their chest, not letting his hands linger for longer than they need to.

“All done with your upper body. Could you sit on the edge of the bath, sweetheart?” Tartaglia asks just as patiently as before.

He scrubs their lower body clean, mindful of where he touched as he finally got their body clean of sweat.

“All clean, baby. Want to wash your hair too?” he asks gently, his hand lightly pushing any hair that had fallen over his beloved’s forehead. They lean into his touch, brows furrowing ever so slightly.

“No,” they respond quietly. “Can I just go back to bed?” they ask meekly, voice hoarse. Tartaglia disapproves but doesn’t argue, understanding how draining it must have been to take a bath. He leaves their side to grab a plush towel, helping them up as he wraps it around their tired body. A sigh escapes their lips as their arms hold onto the towel as best as they could to preserve warmth. Tartaglia chuckles at the cute sight, patting their head fondly.

“You can stand now, that’s good. Let’s go to the bedroom and I’ll help you get dressed, then you can sleep some more.” he says, wrapping an arm around their shoulders to help them walk should the need arise. Thankfully, they both make it to the bedroom in one piece, however Tartaglia’s beloved almost collapses on the bed, strength leaving them from walking and straining their tired muscles. Tartaglia helps them sit down, pulling the towel away as he dries them properly.

He comes back shortly after, holding a pair of underwear and one of his tee shirts. “Lift up your arms,” he says gently, pulling the shirt over their head, a shudder wracking their body as they feel the texture of the fabric brush against their bare skin. He pays no mind to it, instead helping them put on their underwear as casually and quickly as he could. When that’s done, he tosses the towel to the side and places his hands on their arms, looking down at his lover with a tender gaze.

Tartaglia doesn’t speak for a while, lost in his thoughts.

“Sure you don’t want to eat something? You must be hungry,” he says, trying to subtly persuade them to eat. They shake their head, declining, and he has to hold back the urge to sigh. He was just so damn worried- why couldn’t they let him do this for them? But he shakes those thoughts away, focusing on making them comfortable.

His beloved lays down on the bed with a quiet oof, curling in on themselves to warm themselves up. Tartaglia notices and quickly lays down in front of them, manhandling them just enough to move their position so he can hold them on the side while still able to look at them. They curl themselves against him, nuzzling themselves under his neck for warmth. He chuckles, light and airy, before pulling the sheets up over their body and tangling his legs with theirs, bringing his free hand down to caress their arm. Slowly and carefully, the redhead brings their inner wrist up to his face, kissing it softly. He hums, content, and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight love,” he says quietly, lowering their arm to a comfortable position between them and leaning forward to kiss their forehead gently as they both drift off.

#idk why i wrote this in third person i think i was a little Too out of it when i typed this out help #childe x reader #childe x you #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #childe x gn reader #tartaglia x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 7 months

Text

When You Know, You Know - Ronald Speirs x OC

Summary: A night of drinking with Valerie and the men leads Ron to realise that he's in much deeper than he thought

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption/intoxication

Word count: 2.8k

Tags (Mostly using the taglist from the original fic): @50svibes @cagzzz107 @yentroucnagol @mads-weasley @mrsalwayswrite @dcyllom

A/N: This oneshot is building on from the characters/storyline established in my fic Just Come Home, which you can read in its entirety here. For those of you who have read it already, this is set roughly between chapters 5 and 6. Enjoy!

I can't even tell if this is good, I just needed to write for them again, I miss them so much

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I win again!"

"God dammit!" George Luz cried, throwing down his hand of cards upon the table as Valerie laughed, taking a sip of her drink and revelling in his distress. Easy Company had been in Berchtesgaden for almost a week, and already boredom was beginning to set in, remedied seemingly only by late nights of drinking, card games, and music which they had begun to host almost daily in the huge abandoned hotel at the end of the main street.

The huge dining hall was bathed in a low, golden glow, a refuge from the darkness outside, and a gramophone crackled away in the corner, playing record after record of German music only a few among them could understand. A few portraits of prominent officials hung on the walls - survivors of the initial scourge which had seen the men clear out anything of value - their faces vandalised beyond recognition, drooping unevenly on their hooks. The large, circular tables that had once hosted wealthy guests to the town were now used for rowdy games of all kinds, stacks of empty glasses growing taller by the hour.

It had been almost two hours since Valerie had found herself dragged into one of these games. The men had clearly thought her light competition, but in those two hours, not one of them had won a single round. As the night wore on, and she continued to prevail, they grew only more determined to continue, to find a hole in her strategy to exploit, to finally beat her, for God's sake.

"I mean, Jesus, I just don't understand it," Tab sighed, frowning as he poured himself another glass of whiskey, staring wearily at his own hand in the realisation that he never could have won. "How can you win every goddamn time?"

Val chuckled, patting him on the arm in consolation. "I think it might be time to call it a night, eh gents?"

Luz shook his head. "No. Nuh-uh. We're not leaving until I win."

"You better be careful you don't run outta money first."

Tutting, he reached into his pocket for some more cash. "You better donate this shit to a charity or something when you get home, God knows you don't fucking need it," He lamented, muttering something to himself about big fucking houses and rich fucking parents.

With a grin, she accepted her winnings, sliding the money into the pocket of the coat she draped over the back of her chair. It was not her own coat - none of Valerie's clothes were her own, all of them pilfered from the abandoned closets of rich German wives, fleeing in a hurry with their rich Nazi husbands. But in the grand scheme of things, she hardly felt guilty. "Pleasure doing business with ya, Georgie." Val teased, her tongue drawn between her teeth.

A wide archway separated the main dining room from the smaller, private hall next door - a more intimate space for what had once been the wealthiest of hotel guests, but which now belonged to the officers of Easy Company, a huge central table proving the perfect place for late night games of poker.

Ron stared at the unimpressive cards in his hand, suppressing a frown, his infamous stony gaze playing in his favour once again. He would not win this game, but as long as Harry continued to play as badly as he had so far, he would not lose either. The sound of laughter in the next room pulled his gaze - and there she was. Valerie's face flushed red as she laughed, her cheeks creased as she tilted her head back, George Luz chuckling beside her at whatever he had said that was so damn funny. He wasn't sure he had ever made her laugh like that - but Ron knew he wasn't a funny guy, not like Luz at least. A few months ago, he might have felt the inkling of insecurity bubbling in his chest, but not now. Despite all the things that made him seem so intimidating to the other men, it seemed Ron was stuck with Valerie whether he liked it or not.

He did.

The sound of someone noisily clearing their throat pulled his attention away from the next room, and as Ron looked across the table, he noticed Nixon staring straight at him, brow raised. "Hm?" He asked, mirroring his expression.

"You gonna take your turn?" Nixon asked. "Or you gonna keep staring?"

Ron decided not to acknowledge this second question, instead swiftly taking his turn, placing his cards down forcefully, as if making a performance out of it. He wasn't staring. Just... watching.

In the corner of the dining hall, the record that had been playing stopped with a crackle, and Valerie stood up to change it, sliding her cards into her pocket to prevent Luz from cheating. The man scoffed at the mere suggestion, but they both knew he wasn't above taking a peek. As she neared the gramophone in the corner, Chuck Grant came passing the other way, their shoulders brushing against each other as he headed back to his own table. "Ooh, Val," He spoke, stepping up behind her as she flicked through the box of records. "You gotta try this."

Looking up, she accepted the glass in his hand, stifling a cough after her first sip as the liquid burned her throat. "Oh, fucking Christ, what is that?"

"No idea. Malark's recipe - good though, right?"

"Good, but I think it'll kill me," Val confessed, flicking through the box of records with her free hand.

"That's the spirit," He chuckled, patting her on the shoulder before turning to return to his table. "Drink up."

She grinned as he left, taking another sip of Malarkey's dangerous concoction before selecting a record. Their titles had all been in German, so Valerie had been forced to make a decision based off of the covers alone, and as such was slightly taken aback when upbeat folk music came blasting through the gramophone's horn, although the men around her seemed too engrossed in their games to even notice.

Returning to the table, interrupting Luz and Tab as they talked strategy, she put down her drink, taking a seat. "What's that?" George asked, nodding towards her glass.

"No idea. Malarkey's makin' 'em over there apparently."

He paused momentarily, slowly sliding his cards into his pocket as if Val actually needed to cheat to win. "...Don't mind if I do."

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Just over an hour had passed since the last time Ron had looked over at Valerie - Harry had lost their last game, predictably, and the officers had been darting between conversation and cards ever since, the energy slowly draining from the room as the night wore on and they began to find it harder to focus on the more technical games. The group had noticed the main dining hall growing steadily louder as the night progressed, but the disturbance had not been enough to warrant their attention until suddenly a smash rang out, accompanied by a series of whoops and laughter.

Craning his neck to see what was happening, Ron's gaze fell upon the portrait of Hitler that Valerie had taken a knife to on their first day in town, his face now stained with dark red wine, a few shards of glass embedded in the canvas. Still seated at her table, Val let out a hearty laugh, her cheeks flushed bright red as if she had caught a chill. But he knew it wasn't that.

Of the men of Easy Company still occupying the hall, not a single one of them appeared sober, the scent of alcohol lingering on the very air. Sitting across the table from Valerie, it appeared George Luz had actually fallen asleep, suddenly roused by the sound of the wine bottle exploding into hundreds of fragments the moment it struck the wall.

"Aw, shit," Nixon sighed. "Looks like they found the good stuff."

Across the room, Skinny Sisk tripped on the edge of a tablecloth that had been left dragging across the floor, tumbling to the ground in a mass of flailing limbs. Val let out a guffaw of laughter, clapping her hands in delight as she slumped further in her seat, reaching for another sip of whatever the hell was in her glass.

"Alright, ok," Ron muttered, rising from his seat and crossing the room in a moment, prying the drink from her hand before it could reach her lips. Val opened her mouth in objection, brow drawn with outrage, but the sudden appearance of the infamous Captain Speirs seemed to sober up the rest of the room, the other men taking the hint to calm themselves and begin shuffling out the door to return to their billets and sleep off their drunkenness.

"I wasn't done with that, yunno," She drawled, barely noticing as Luz drifted away from the table, rubbing at his temples in an attempt to nurse an already developing headache.

"Yeah, you're not gonna be, either," Raising the glass, Ron took a sniff, expression twisting into a grimace. "Jesus. How many of these did you have?"

"I... do not know."

"Hey, Speirs?" Harry called from the next room, clearly impatient to get back to their game.

"Uh, yeah - deal me out, ok? See you fellas tomorrow," He nodded, placing a gentle hand on Valerie's arm to help her to her feet. She swayed slightly, but could certainly walk, and as Ron helped her to the door, he emptied her glass into an unused ice bucket as they passed.

She probably could have made it back up to her room entirely unscathed, even the wobble in her step ebbing away as they exited into the night air, but Ron wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself if he let her go anywhere alone. "I'm not plastered by the way - I've been plastered, this ain't that."

"Whatever you say," He breathed, arm still secure around her as they descended the front steps to the hotel.

"I'm serious."

"I believe you, dear," Ron nodded, and a giddy grin made its way across her face at the term of endearment. It had slipped out before he could stop it, and he was suddenly grateful for the minuscule chance that she would remember it the next day - he did not in fact believe her.

It was quiet out on the street, the men who had scattered returning promptly to their nearby billets, turning Berchtesgaden back into the ghost town it had been when they had found it. The street lamps cast puddles of golden light as they passed beneath them, his gaze momentarily wandering to Val's face. Her hair had come loose, a strand hanging limply in her face, and the tip of her nose flushed pink in the cool air. Without a word, Ron shrugged off his jacket, slinging it over her shoulders. She did not hesitate to slide her arms into the sleeves, wrapping the jacket tightly around herself, and playing it off as a yawn when she took a deep breath, smelling the scent of his cigarettes that permeated the fabric.

They were mere feet from the front door when Ron felt Valerie slide from his grip, turning to watch as she took a seat on a nearby bench, one foot tucked behind the other, hands in her lap as she looked up at the night sky above.

"Almost there, c'mon," He urged, gesturing for her to follow.

"Come sit down."

Ron didn't move, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Val, come on, you'll catch a cold out here, let's get you insi-"

"Just sit down, Ronald!" Val demanded, almost laughing. She always seemed so ceaselessly amused by him - he wouldn't pretend not to enjoy it, but it struck him as odd sometimes.

Folding his hands awkwardly in his lap, Ron took a seat beside her on the bench, a polite gap left between them. It couldn't have been more than a couple of inches, but it might as well have been a mile for how tempted he felt to move closer.

Her gaze had not shifted from the sky above since the moment he sat down, and after a while spent sitting in silence, he allowed himself to do the same, peering up at the stars above. There was a full moon out that night, hanging like a beacon above them, never quite allowing the town to fall into total darkness as it bathed the ground below in its glow. It was quite marvellous, really.

As weight pressed down on his shoulder, Ron felt his breath catch in his throat, so desperate was he to preserve the serenity of this moment as Valerie leant over, resting her head against him. He scarcely dared more, for fear that he would shrug her off - it was almost comical, the battle-hardened Captain Speirs, who ran past half a dozen tanks at Foy twice over without fear, suddenly paralysed at the prospect of pushing her away.

"Our families are looking at the same moon back home," Valerie said, her voice muffled against the fabric of Ron's jacket as she turned her chin into the collar. "I like thinkin' about that." When she spoke it sounded drowsy, exhaustion tugging downwards at her eyelids.

"C'mon," He urged again, matching her softness. "You can't sleep out here, you'll freeze to death."

Val nodded slowly, her hair catching on his shirt. "That'd be very inconvenient for you."

"Out the the two of us, I don't think I'm the one getting the short end of the stick in this scenario, Val."

"Ah, but you'd miss me," She sighed with a dramatic flourish of her hand, pushing herself up from the bench with a grunt. Ron had not had the chance to stand up himself before Valerie started walking, the sway in her step settled as she confidently made her way down the street.

"You're going the wrong way, dear," He pointed out, gesturing to the front door, mere feet away from them.

"I know that," Val rolled her eyes, turning sharply on her heel and marching up to the front step as he chuckled. Taking the step up, she looked back at him. "C'mere," She ordered.

"What do you want now?" Ron teased, already moving to do her bidding. Taking a step up to stand beside her, they faced each other, shoulders pressed against the front door to the house they were billeted in. Leaning forward, Val pressed her body flat against his, her chin resting on his chest, face tilted up towards him. He could feel her breath, escaping through parted lips and fanning his neck as he peered down at her. Their faces were mere inches apart, and oh, how he had wanted to give in at that moment - give in to the months they had spent together, growing ever more enamoured by her with each passing day. Putting her weight on her toes, she began to push herself up towards him, their lips barely parted, so close their noses brushed against each other.

She was drunk. Ron knew this - could see it in her flushed cheeks, could hear it in her slow words. It would not happen like this. Placing soft hands to either side of her face, he held her back as gently, as tenderly as he could, his thumb skirting across the soft flesh of her cheek as Valerie eased herself back onto her heels, her eyes like dark pools under the light of the street lamp, as wide as he had ever seen them.

"Goodnight Cap'n," Her voice was scarcely a whisper as her hand found the door handle, opening it onto the great foyer inside, the heels of her shoes clacking against the floorboards as she trailed inside. Ron would follow soon - would climb the stairs to his own room along the hall from her own - but for now, he held back, watching on as Val headed upstairs, his jacket still hanging off her back as she disappeared down the hall, the sound of humming trailing after her even after she was gone from sight, fading away with the sound of a closing door. It wasn't until now, when Ron was alone in the foyer, did he realise he was smiling - beaming even. It was very... un-ron-like. But she had wanted to kiss him.

He had done the right thing. He knew this.

But Jesus Christ, was he in deeper than he thought.

#band of brothers #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs x oc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fic #hbo war #hbo war fic #hbo war oc #george luz #floyd talbert #lewis nixon #harry welsh #chuck grant #donald malarkey #oc: valerie

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lavendertales · 1 year

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Hi!! I love your TLOU writings! Do you think there's anyway you could do a Joel Miller (Pedro) x f!reader with a tall reader? For reference Joel is 5'10 or '11 and I'm around 6'2

It can be smut, fluff, whatever you feel. It's just rare to find fanfics with taller readers 😂 (bonus points if they're plus size)

Thank you so much!!!

as a pretty tall person too, I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH. You're so right, it's rare to see fics with taller people, so let us remedy that, shall we?

Lover—Joel Miller x tall, plus size!f!reader

word count: 609

A/N: this is mostly just fluff with a very smitten Joel Miller. hints of smut, though nothing explicit. Nonetheless, as a lot of my works and my blog is 18+,

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

gif: @olisgifs

There have been eyes on you since the day you have arrived in Jackson, and months later, there are still eyes on you.

Except now, the eyes that follow you everywhere you go are Joel Miller’s.

And his express something else than the others’; there’s a certain mixture of admiration, awe and desire whenever he looks at you. You’re a tall woman, taller than him even, but he loves that. He loves the way there is more of you for him to adore whenever the two of you are alone. He loves kneading your flesh in between his fingers till it spills from in between; he loves hoisting your legs over his shoulders when he’s fucking you.

He loves every single inch of you, just as you are.

Truth be told, you were astounded at the newfound realization that Joel is borderline unhinged when it comes to you. You hadn’t always had a pleasant experience when it comes to meeting new people, particularly seeing their eyes roam over your tall figure, then dropping to notice the bit of extra weight that your body carried. You were never really bothered by it, you were quite confident with yourself, but sometimes it still got to you.

But ever since you and Joel became an item, any worries you might have had washed away. While he may not have been the most expressive person, and certainly not the most talkative, he showed his care through various acts of service—especially in the privacy of your house.

It was basically impossible to be even remotely bothered by the things that, according to Joel himself, made you an incredible woman.

“You cannot be serious,” you laughed one evening before bed.

“What? You think I’m joking?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

Joel’s gaze shifts to your legs, long and teasingly exposed in your gown as you lay beside him. He runs his palm over your calf, teasingly moving upwards to your thigh.

“I ain’t joking,” Joel coos, kissing your cheek, then moving to your jaw. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“My height?”

“That’s right.”

You don’t hide the amusement that your face bestows.

“Not sure how that is a turn on of any sort, but… whatever floats your boat.”

Joel’s kisses go further down your neck, hand touching on your inner thigh now, rubbing the skin there. You smile, closing your eyes and trying to focus solely on the touches, but it only grows your desire more, and you can barely hold your moans to yourself.

“I got so lucky,” Joel mutters in your earlobe.

“I’m the lucky one.”

With Joel, you felt safe and cared for. And you made sure to return his affections tenfold. You enjoyed taking care of him, and you enjoyed seeing that he opened up to you more and putting his trust in you.

“Is it okay if we just watch a movie tonight?” you ask, looking at his face.

Joel instantly removes his hand from your inner thigh, simply caressing your knee. He then pecks your lips and gets more comfortable on his side of the bed.

“Of course,” he tells you.

“I know you probably wanted—“

“It’s okay. What movie do you feel like watching?”

“Well, I heard they’re playing Rush Hour at the cantina.”

“Sounds good.”

These are the moments that always reassure you that you have a great man by your side. In these moments, it’s more than your looks. It’s about safety and comfort, the feeling of coziness that Joel brings to you every single day.

You’ve never felt more confident or loved than when you were with Joel Miller.

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joshslater · 2 years

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Golden Years

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I can feel my powers trickle away faster and faster each decade. I can maintain myself and my lifestyle, but not much more. Oh, how I miss my mischievous youth, perhaps even more than me in my prime. I still make the odd prank when I'm well rested, though it's longer and longer in between, just to make sure I'm still not human.

Just the other day I felt exceptionally great. The stars were just in the right position and someone had died in the building across the street during the night. I was sipping on a morning coffee at my regular place when I saw a particularly sorry sight walking by. A pallid boy in his late teen dragging a wreck of an aura behind him. He probably had been up all night playing games, watching videos, or chatting with classmates he'd barely remember in a decade's time. I didn't bother to take a closer look inside, but it's remarkably boringly similar concerns all adolescents have. He'd be my next victim.

Toying with a single person isn't that much of an effort yet, thank goddesses, not even when you bring the whole world along. I bet few people would pay enough attention to register that the boy was slowly growing as he walked towards the intersection, but I don't want to get sloppy at old age. To anyone who watched him the world they lived in would be a world where he always looked like he looked in that instance. The very next moment when he was ever so slightly taller and just a tad buffer they would live in a world where he had always looked like that.

I even made him unaware of the changes that were happening to him, at least then and there. The baggy T-shirt was beginning to strain over his chest and shoulders, the shorts no longer reached to his knees and started hugging his growing butt. He took a few awkward steps to remedy chafing and he tried his best to reposition his dick and balls as they became quite eye-catching straining against the fabric.

In a final mustering of effort I warped the world ever so slightly to make his name Thad. Every document and ID-card, every computer database, every signature, name sign, vacation souvenir, all now said Thad. Everyone who knew him, his friends, his teachers, his relatives, his father, his mother, they all knew him as Thad, remembered him as Thad. The only one who didn’t was he, whatever his name was. It was only when he discovered everyone had a different name for him he realized his body was radically different from what it ought to be. That he had six pack and pecs. That if he flexes his arm there is a sizable bulge of muscle. That no one else could remember him any different, at least not recently, must be maddening to him. Even more so when all the rest of the clothes in his wardrobe match his new size.

A fucked mind for a fuckable body is a fair and equal exchange I would think, and I'm too old for unbalanced magic anyway.

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every-orochimaru · 9 months

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i cannot take them seriously look at that fucking leg to body ratio IMDBSSNMSHSKSHSMSMANNAHAJ

I could talk all day about this shit and how it proves Kabuto's growth doesn't line up with the timeline. I was foolishly trying to explain the history of the Sannin to my brother and I very quickly realized baby Kabuto is a problem.

Obviously every child varies in height and how quickly they grow. But this is the average height of a 3 year old. You're telling me this lil guy is 3 when he just up and leaves? This is the same height ratio I share with my 3 year old niece (I'm the same height as Danzo).

Now the anime does remedy this by making Kabuto taller in this scene.

This is a much better height ratio! That would be the average height of a child who is roughly 10 years old. This is a similar height ratio I share with my 11 year old brother. It's much more believable to me that a 10 year old would: 1. be able to learn medical ninjutsu 2. be trusted to administer first aid 3. have the empathy to take one for the team! Still morally questionable but far better than a literal toddler doing this shit.

I just think this is one of those cases where Kishimoto and co either: 1. didn't have a good idea of how old to make Kabuto in this scene 2. underestimated just how quickly children grow 3. didn't have the time to fuss over such minor details because you get the point he's young regardless.

#not orochimaru

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id0what1want · 2 months

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What does Cereza look like and how tall is she compared to the other characters and pokemon (it feels weird calling them characters)

*me vibrating at the exact frequency required to shatter glass* yeah I can do that for you

(I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ASK (scroll to the end for some sketches of Cereza))

SO FOR STARTERS

Cereza is NOT tall, she's like maybe five feet somethin' short. She's Kieran's height during the Teal Mask and stays the same height forever. She does wear thick boots or sneakers all the time though in order to remedy this. Chunky soles are also good for traction and she climbs everything. She likes having stompers. Cereza seems taller than she is cuz she's all arms and legs, little gangly creature. She's also very sticklike, if you shook her she would make a rattling sound. All her muscle is very lean. Compact cryptid. I should clarify that I subscribe to the headcanon Kieran gets a growth spurt over the timeskip between the Teal Mask and the Indigo Disk. I think he shoots up to Amarys's height but still has issues with slouching so he might not seem like exactly the same height. Height is evidently in his genes if Carmine is any evidence. He's not done growing. (Cereza is pissed that she's not getting any taller and Kieran IS STILL GROWING) Cereza looks fucking hilarious next to all her huge freaking pokemon. Little creature next to big creature(s)

Cereza's hair is very specific in color and style in my brain. It's very wild and thick, as well as very long. It's the same consistency of a Hex Maniac's from the gen 6 games. Cereza's hair is ash blonde/white, exactly like the ash white option in game except the white streaks are even whiter (especially in the Indigo Disc, partially because fluorescents). It's very pale and muted, probably a shade lighter than the ash white in game depending on the lighting. Her hair is nigh constantly in low twintails that reach about her hips to maybe her thigh in length (it does grow over the timeskip, but it's so wild that it's kinda hard to notice especially since her bangs don't change). She will do little mini braids in her hair sometimes purely as a fidgeting habit to keep her hands busy or that piece of her hair isn't cooperating, and she wants it outta the way. Cereza's hair is the perfect length and consistency to play with and do things with. Lacey has to use every ounce of self-control in her body not to play with Cereza's hair. Deadeye has no such self-control and will bite at Cereza's hair all the time. Hair color refs!!

(DUDE THE IMAGES ARE SO BIG HOW DO I MAKE THEM SMALLER-) and also a hex maniac for hair texture reference

Moving on, Cereza's eyes are a darker red in Teal Mask, more discreet, but in the Indigo Disc they've gotten more saturated to the point of becoming a startling red. Her eyes are really big and round and sharp at the same time?? like they're round but her eyelines and eyelashes are pretty sharp. Her eyelashes are dark and pretty long. I would say her eyelashes are a dark DARK brown as opposed to black. Her eyes are very reminiscent of Briar's but a slightly different shape. Her pupils have a four-pointed star shape. This is not foreshadowing anything /lying

Cereza also has a beauty mark under each eye, perfectly identical and symmetric. (research says they're called tear moles, and they signify bad luck or hardship in life. It fits for plot reasons you'll see later lmao) She also has faint freckles all over, they're light enough that they aren't visible at a glance but you can see 'em if you squint. They would be more visible if she went out more during the day. Cryptid ass.

Posting this sketch is genuinely so scary like putting my own art on the internet? BLEGH. Giving people a visual of my own character? BLEGH.

Alright that's Cereza. Have some bonus sketches of the boys.

might transfer them to digital. idk. Anyway, thanks for staying this long!!!!!!

✨Do whatever you want forever✨

~ Cytoplasm

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baconcolacan · 11 months

Text

Still stuck on tamtori brainrot so misc thoughts:

• I like to think Tam presents herself more masc/tomboy-ish while Tori likes to look more femme and presents herself as such, but in reality she needs a lot of help from Tam (i.e. with clothing choices and makeup) cause she grew up with that ‘I’m not like other girls’ mindset and never got to hone a sense for cutesy girly stuff that she actually likes. Tam went through a lot of phases growing up so has a good sense for these things.

• I still hc that Tori is taller than Tam, but she really likes being carried around by her girlfriend and so would often cling onto her at every opportunity like a koala.

• Tori is a magpie and would steal Tam’s clothes to wear for herself, problem is with their statures so most of Tam’s clothes won’t really fit right. Not that she cares though. To remedy this, Tam bought an oversized hoodie which she DOES wear, but its basically the ‘boyfriend clothes’ that Tori gets to wear later lmao.

• Tori gets flustered A LOT when it comes to her girlfriend, but more so when she gets the opportunity to call Tam ‘My girl.’ She can say that with a straight face but will be screaming inside.

“You’ll always be my girl, right Tammie?” [cue internal squeeing]

• When Tori went on her ‘Touch Grass Extravaganza Tour’ her last text to Tam was ‘You were always the best waifu :’(‘ before her phone went dark. This caused Tamara significant distress, (As Tori would rather die than remove Yoko Littner from ‘Best Waifu’ position) but later on found out Tori was just going through anime withdrawal (fuckin weeb lmao)

#eddsworld headcanons #eddsworld ship headcanons #tamtori #toritam #ew tori #ew tamara #UGH LESBIANS #GAY PEOPLE REAL PART 3

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blukrown · 11 months

Text

Admiring Admittance - Ghost/Gaz/Soap

GAZ WEEK 2023 - BODYWORSHIP

Gaz feels self-conscious and unattractive after eyeing up his two boyfriends in the gym one day. Not to worry, Ghost and Soap have a good way to remedy this.

Or read on AO3

Contains: NSFW, mentions of body dysmorphia

Gaz, Soap and Ghost were in the gym during a quiet stationary day on base. Working out their energy with weights, drills, and sparring. Which usually led to expending another type of energy after eyeing each other up all day.

Muscles tensing, skin glistening, mouths half opened to dispense strained breaths. It was unsurprising all three were hot under the collar even after a cool shower to wash away the sweat.

Outside of the dulling aching need to touch his lovers, Gaz also felt something else as he looked at the two men.

Ghost was tall and built like a shithouse. Strong, firm muscles were hidden behind a layer of fat that was simply glorious to clutch and hold in the bedroom. Broad in the shoulders and hips, bulky and intimidating in stature alone.

Soap was shorter than Gaz and Ghost but he was still visibly strong. Well-defined muscles and brag-worthy six-pack abs meant even the non-trio members often stared. Strong, broad shoulders tapered down to a smaller waist. Stout but brawny.

Then there was Gaz. Tall, lanky Gaz.

Don’t be confused, Gaz had muscle and strength to spare but it did not show on his body like it did the others. Didn’t widen the circumference of his arms nor hide the distinct bones at his hips or shoulders. He had a naturally lithe frame, a dancer’s body, his mother had always said. Perfect to leap and spin, acrobatic but resilient.

Gaz had rarely felt jealous or self-conscious before, blessed with a gorgeous face and healthy physique, he had never found himself wanting something different . . . Until now.

Even being an inch or two taller than Soap, Gaz felt small in comparison to his partners. Weaker and frail almost. To summarise, unattractive.

It was an odd and discomforting feeling, bothering him so much he was captured by his own confronting thoughts throughout the next hour. As the trio finished in the gym, showered, dressed and retreated to Ghost’s private quarters since Gaz and Soap still slept in the barracks.

It wasn’t until they were inside, Soap having already dive bombed onto the bed, that Ghost spoke to him.

“You alrigh’ there, Kyle?” Ghost asked, voice heavy and low but soft with hinting concern.

“Hm?” Gaz hummed in reply before realising Ghost had asked him something. “Oh, uh- I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

Ghost did not seem convinced, his eyes looking over him carefully. “If it’s nothing, you wouldn’t be lookin’ so down.”

“What’s the matter?” Soap chimed in, sitting up straight on the bed with his legs dangling from the edge.

Gaz had not realised he had caused his lovers worry, which apart from flattering him, made him grow even more self-conscious. He considered deflecting again, pretending they were just imagining this. But Ghost’s hand then rested on his shoulder and Soap’s sweet eyes were bright with worry. If he could tell anyone what he was thinking, it would be these two. He trusted them, loved them above all else. So, although he felt repulsion at himself for saying it, he spoke his mind.

“Do . . . Do you think I’m weak?”

“What?” Soap half-blanched, surprised. “Of course not! Who said that?! I’ll-” Soap’s raising tone was immediately silenced by a look from Ghost.

“Why would you ask that?”

“It’s just . . .” Gaz started, feeling his throat go dry and his eyes sting a little by the corners. “I’m not as muscular as you two. I’ve tried to gain muscle but it’s hard for me.” He felt both his partners watching him, allowing him to continue if he wished. “I . . . I just realised that maybe . . . Maybe I’m not as attractive to you.”

Soap immediately stood, taking a place by Gaz’s side. “You’re kidding? You’re bonnie, Kyle! Of course, we’re attracted to ye’. Cannae keep my hands off ye’ half the time.”

“Besides,” Ghost said, hand still on Gaz’s shoulder and squeezing. “We don’t want you to be that for us. We like - love you the way you are.” He corrected, still adjusting to the word as it was still a newly introduced idea in their relationship.

Soap nodded emphatically, reaching out both arms and wrapping them around Gaz’s slim waist. “If ye’ want to change, we’ll support you. But don’t go changin’ just cos’ ye’ think we’d jump your bones any harder than we already do.”

Ghost closened as well, his chest brushing Gaz’s back. “Agreed. We wouldn’t care what size, ‘s long as you're healthy and comfortable.”

Gaz felt greatly moved by the assurance but it did not completely sway him. Even now, sandwiched between his lovers, he felt small and slight. Insignificant even as Soap held him and Ghost pressed close.

Ghost and Soap must have exchanged another silent look as there was a moment’s pause before Soap spoke. “Ye’ know what I like, Gaz?” The Scot waited until Gaz’s eyes met his, so he could read Soap’s genuine affection. “I like how tall ye’ are. Ye’ give such great hugs with those arms.”

Soap’s arms left Gaz’s side for only a moment. Urging his lover’s arms to lift and drape over his shoulders. Long and slim compared to Soap’s own. Gaz felt Ghost’s own hands reaching to hold at his hips, tracing the visible hip bones through Gaz’s sweats.

“I quite like these you know,” He said, voice low and hushed right by Gaz’s ear. Making him shiver.

“And these,” Soap added, a hand touching at indents in Gaz’s clavicle. “I always like touchin’ them,” He then leaned forward and kissed each of the identical bones. “They look so pretty when they’ve got hickey’s on ‘em.”

“Don’t forget these,” Soap’s hand lifting Gaz’s loose fitting shirt to admire his trimmed but strong stomach. “I can never resist this.” His hands then touched at his lower abdomen, admiring the dark haired happy trail disappearing past the waistband.

Gaz was feeling comforted but was becoming more horny than anything else. His hips flinching a little at Soap’s proximity to his crotch, his cock waking from a soft doze he had been going through all day.

“I can never have enough of this,” Ghost then whispered, large and strong hands squeezing at Gaz’s behind. “I could honestly watch your ass all day, imagining how nice it looks when we push our cocks between.”

Gaz audibly whimpered at that, wriggling a little as goosebumps rippled up his arms and still exposed stomach. A hot flush then amassed between his legs and tenting his pants.

“Fuck,” Soap groaned out, eyes watching Gaz’s face scrunch in arousal. His hand lowering to cup at Gaz’s erection through his pants. “And this, Kyle. God, I’m always happy when your cock comes up to say hello.”

Gaz may have cringed at the phrasing but was far too erotically enthralled to voice it, watching Soap’s hand cup and squeeze at him through the cloth. Ghost was not helping, both hands manhandling and spreading his cheeks.

“Why don’t you give it a warm greeting then, Johnny?” Ghost asked, resting his chin on Gaz’s shoulder so he could look at the Scot. “Let’s show our boy how much we adore ‘im with more than just words.”

Soap grinned wide, “Brilliant ideas, sir. I’ll get lube?”

“Good thinking,” Ghost said with a nod.

Both Gaz and Ghost watched Soap depart for only a moment before returning. Bottle of lube retrieved and handed to Ghost over Gaz’s shoulder.

Gaz had his suspicions on what was to happen next and he did not see any reason to stop them. He was feeling a little better, appreciated and loved. But he thought it would be rude to not see the two men’s full displays of affection.

Soap took Gaz by the chin and pulled him in for a loving kiss. Quick pecks growing quicker and harsher, tongues dashing and teeth pinching at lips. Soap very clearly wishing to savour Gaz’s touch before he pulled away. His grin still visible in the curl of his lip and glitter in his eyes as he went on his knees.

Gaz’s breaths were already unsteady from his lovers’ touches and kisses but to finally see Soap going down on him only harshened them more. Not to mention Ghost who was now kissing up and down Gaz’s neck. Trailing marks over soft, dark skin. Leaving territorial hickeys so that all would know Gaz was only for them.

Soap kissed Gaz’s stomach as he tugged both his pants and briefs down in one pull, freeing his hardening cock, only going to touch him there once the clothing was safely tossed aside. Calloused hands caressed his thighs before Soap leaned in to kiss at the underside of his cock. Whiskers brushing over sensitive skin and tongue dashing out to lick the length of him. Groans rumbled in Gaz’s throat as he watched the Scot. Who seemed to enjoy Gaz’s aroused attention, flashing a handsome smirk before he took Gaz into his mouth.

Gaz gasped at the warmth that soon surrounded his cock, hands coming to hold at Soap’s shoulders to steady himself. The man on his knees easily taking him down to the base, nose pressed against his pelvis before pulling away. Mouth hollowing before beginning a slow, steady pace. Dragging out grunts and whimpers with each bob of the head.

At this point, Ghost had his fingers slickened and pressed at Gaz’s hole. Pressing two fingers in easily and stretching Gaz out just the little he needed. Already opened from their several rounds of nightly activities the day before.

Although Gaz could not see Ghost at his work, he could feel Ghost’s fingers tenfold inside and hear Ghost’s uplifted breaths, heavy and rich by his ear and making Gaz shiver. Adding a third finger Ghost pressed his lips to Gaz’s ear, voice thick and rich in his ear.

“I love the way you squeeze around my fingers each time Soap bottom’s out. I can’t wait to feel it around my cock, Kyle. Don’t you?”

Gaz nodded, biting into his lip as he almost whimpered when Ghost pushed against his prostate. Knees beginning to tremble at the growingly overwhelming sense of pleasure coming from his two partners.

Ghost seemed to notice this, pulling his fingers away and with the same hand, went around Gaz’s body to tug Soap’s head by the hair. Stopping his hungry blowjob and pulling the Scot’s mouth away with a ‘pop’.

“God Gaz, look at what you’ve done to ‘im. Completely drunk on your cock, isn’t he?” Ghost asked by his ear, then letting out a rich chuckle.

Soap said nothing, eyes misted. His tongue only dashing out to lick at his drying lips, mouth open in heavy gasps.

“What’s say we give him what he wants, hm? And I can fuck you in the meanwhile, that means we’re both getting to enjoy you.”

Gaz shakily nodded his head, not blissed out enough to say something dorky like ‘yes please’ yet.

“Good lad,” Ghost said with audible satisfaction, letting go of Soap’s hair. “Go on, Johnny, get back to it. We wouldn’t want to keep our lovely Kyle waiting.”

Soap did not need to hear anything else, immediately returning and taking Gaz’s cock back in his mouth and down his throat in grateful eagerness.

“Now then,” Ghost muttered, a hand tucking under Gaz’s right leg and carefully lifting it upwards. Leaving Gaz to stand on just one foot and lean his body weight on Ghost. “Let’s get you all filled up.”

Gaz felt little strain from his new posture, always being easily malleable for his lovers to situate him however they or he liked best. He could touch his toes with ease and do the splits without breaking a sweat. Dancer’s body indeed.

Ghost did not waste any of Gaz’s limited time, could tell Gaz was nearing to his end with Soap’s mouth alone. Aligning his cock to Gaz’s entrance and pressing in with a low grunt, Ghost rocked his hips forward into Gaz’s tight heat, which then pressed Gaz further into Soap’s hungry mouth. Their rocky but fluid swaying inching Gaz ever closer to his peak.

Suffice to say, Gaz was in his own paradise. Filled at one end while warm and squeezed on the other. By this point, he had lost any thought to restrain his noises of satisfaction. His head rolling back on his shoulders to gasp, groan, whimper and call to his partners.

It was only a matter of time and Gaz’s two loves were more than happy to make him reach it. Soap taking him in his mouth with gusto and Ghost’s pace quickening but still keeping steady, both trying their hardest to let Gaz have a true mind-melting finish.

Which Gaz so gratefully did, his breaths hitching and moans turning faint. Eyes seeing stars as his head rolled back on his shoulders and squeezing shut. Clenching around Ghost and his hands fumbled to hold Soap down to the hilt of his cock. Cumming inside and down Soap’s throat as he keened one final time.

Body relaxing immediately, welcoming the solidness of Ghost’s arms as he ushered an enfeebled Gaz to lie on the bed. The lieutenant flopping on top and closing his eyes, breaths still out of pace.

As he slowly came down from above the clouds, he felt warmth on either side as Soap and Ghost lay on either side of him. Ensuring he did not lose any body heat as he sobered. Arms enwrapping him on either side and holding him close.

It was then that Gaz felt truly loved. Apart from the tender words or erotic acts, this, the softness of their embrace and the contentment of holding him near was enough to make Gaz’s eyes sting a little.

#gazweek2023 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz call of duty #gaz #ghost x gaz #gaz x ghost #soap x gaz #gaz x soap #soap x ghost #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x soap #soap cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #mlm #fanfiction #fanfic

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scrimblescromble · 7 months

Text

In my quest to figure out the closest match to sweet berries (minecraft), here's what I have come up with:

Miracle fruit - also called sweet berries, causes sour food to taste sweet

Rosehips - red berries that grow on wild roses. They're not really that good to eat, since the seeds cause irritation when swallowed and it's better in something.

Haws - red berries that grow on hawthorn, which can either be a bush or a tree. Can be used in food and herbal remedies

Raspberries - maybe too easy, but they're sweet, red, and grow on a spiky bush

Wild strawberries - smaller than ones you'd buy in a shop, and sweeter. Also quite an easy option

Soapberries - again, small, red, grow on a spiky bush. They have a tart taste

Nanking cherries - taller shrubs, and are sweeter the longer you leave to eat them

Of course, none of these are perfect, but they're a starting point for reference if you wanted to ground sweet berries in something!

#minecraft

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kittymsmithwritesstuff · 1 year

Note

Moira x junkerqueen headcanons?

Ohhh spicy.

Also will be referring to JunkerQueen by her first name, "Odessa", because it is pretty and I like it.

-Moira has never met a woman taller than her and is fucking terrified when she first meets the Queen of Junkertown.

-Odessa thinks Moira's kind of funny looking initially. That tall, that skinny, with bright ginger hair and mismatched eyes? Just not anyone she ever expected to see before.

-Moira assumes Odessa knows nothing about science and genetics in particular, but still attempts to explain the basics to her when the other woman (much to Moira's surprise) asks. But what surprises her more, and piques her interest, is that Odessa grasps the concept pretty quickly.

-Odessa thinks Moira's fade ability is sick as hell.

-She's also honestly impressed by her fighting ability. Moira can't take her on hand-to-hand, she'd get fucking annihilated and they both know it, but Odessa can recognize strategic ability and Moira has quite a lot that she utilizes well to compensate for a relative lack of physical ability.

-Moira jokingly calls Odessa 'my Queen', but Odessa is like, kind of into it when Moira says it like that.

-Moira is bored to tears in a meeting (Talon or whatever) and falls asleep on Odessa's shoulder. Odessa immediately asks her out when she wakes up. Moira is very disoriented by this.

-Odessa is very loud. Moira does not like very loud. But she likes Odessa. She's still trying to figure out why.

-Eventually, she figures out it's a few base factors. Curiosity is a big one. An inquisitive mind is more valuable than gold. Even if Odessa doesn't understand everything Moira talks about, and asks questions that are genuinely just dumb as hell sometimes, she still asks, and she doesn't question Moira's every move even if she doesn't agree with them.

-She's also generally non-judgemental of Moira's work overall, and has a surprising amount of emotional intelligence that Moira comes to appreciate as someone who has difficulty sorting through her own emotions (or lack thereof) sometimes.

-Odessa really likes all of Moira's wild ideas and how she pretty much never gives up and always tries new things. Moira's also a patient woman, which is nice. Dess also likes that she's struggled-not that she wants her to have to struggle, but it means Moira understands more than most when Odessa happens to talk about being banished or growing up in the wastelands.

-It's important to both of them that neither tries to fix shit that can't be fixed. Neither tries to offer the other a solution to a problem they've had for years, neither tries to be the thousandth person to suggest this therapy or that therapy, or attempt to list off a myriad of remedies with the expectation the right one will be named off, taken, and applied until the problem goes away. Odessa's trauma cannot be patched with a bandaid, her nightmares can't be stopped with a tea, and Moira knows this. Moira's arm will likely never be the same, and she will always jump at the sound of aluminum cans opening, even though the reason for that little psychological trigger is long since dead, and Odessa knows this. They can't fix it. But they both can listen to each other's shit, and talk about it, and tha thas helped them both more than almost anything else.

-Onto sweeter things, they get in arguments over whose music sucks more. (Moira claims she can't understand a word of whatever screeching Odessa has blowing through her speakers, Odessa complains she never knows when a new song has started because all of Moira's stuff sounds the same).

-They have a thirteen year age difference. Odessa delights in saying shit like, 'yeah old woman?' just to annoy Moira.

-Moira would steal Odessa's hoodies, except she doesn't own any.

-Yeah Moira 100 percent admires Odessa's muscles like. All the time.

-Odessa thinks it's funny to randomly pick up Moira like she weighs nothing.

-Moira does not think this is funny.

-Moira does not like the noise at the big arena fights in Junkertown, but she throw on a pair of noise canceling headphones and hide in the corner to support Odessa now and then.

-Odessa will similarly put on an actual shirt (but never actual pants) and keep mostly quiet to attend some of Moira's lectures at Oasis University. She usually doesn't understand most of what the woman is saying because academic lectures are the more minute and dry parts of a subject, but she knows Moira appreciates it.

-Odessa has the first time she got Moira to laugh, like actually let loose and laugh, burned into her memory forever.

-Neither are really into PDA, which surprised Moira about Odessa TBH.

-Behind closed doors, Moira's quite a bit sweeter than anyone would guess, and Odessa loves it, especially since Moira doesn't require bending halfway down to kiss.

-They're kind of partially long-distance because Odessa still has to manage Junkertown and Moira isn't exactly biting at the bit to move to the middle of the irradiated outback.

-Also Odessa cleans her house when Moira is going to visit, and only then. She thinks Moira doesn't know, but she figured it out a long time ago. She tries to give her a few hours notice even on her more spontaneous visits so she has time to make the place presentable.

#junker queenxmoira #moira overwatch #junker queen overwatch #overwatch #overwatch headcanons #overwatch headcannons #kmtalks #kmwrites #ask #anon

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autismsubway-remade · 2 years

Text

big wife (ingo x zisu ^_^ because im projecting) PROSHIPPERS DNI I WILL EAT YOUR BEDSHEETS.

Emmet had always known Ingo would come back home.

But he wasn't expecting him to come home with a woman nearly a foot taller than them both.

"Um. Ingo? Who is this?" Emmet says eloquently.

"This is my wife, Zisu!"

What.

Ingo had been gone in the past for nearly 5 years, shows up out of thin air and brings his WIFE?!

Emmet feels like he's going to pass out. Scratch that, he is in fact passing out.

Emmet falls to the floor with a soft thud, and Ingo just. Stares at him.

"I feel like I should have explained."

Zisu laughs. "Yeah, probably."

---------------------------------------------------------

Ingo had been in Hisui for about a year now. The rift above Mt. Coronet had dissipated a while ago, but he couldn't say he actually went that far up the mountain often anyways. Mostly because Lady Sneasler wouldn't let him, which was just a tad disappointing. But he was alright with it.

Besides, he much preferred going to Jubilife Village now. There wasn't any particular reason (a lie), he just enjoyed going to the dojo to help new trainers (another semi-lie. he really did enjoy helping them, it just wasn't the main reason he was there.)

The dojo was nice. There was shade when it was needed, and it was just far enough away from the bustle of the rapidly growing village to be comfortable. There (usually) weren't many crowds in the dojo, except for when Akari came to battle him or other trainers (because everybody wanted to see the hero of Hisui fight!) but Akari wasn't there today, as she was trying to focus on completing the pokèdex.

So, it was a relatively slow day. Which left Ingo, other stray security corp members and...

Zisu.

Ingo was not uncomfortable with Zisu, in fact it was quite the opposite. He was embarrassed to say, but he definitely had a big dumb crush on the woman. Which was not remedied by her being nearly a foot taller than him. (Unfortunately, he had a type.)

She was a boisterous, strong and kind woman. She was gentle with her pokèmon and other trainers, and she was also very, very pretty. And Ingo was a mess. He was fully(?) aware that his appearance was...Disheveled. At best. But, he unfortunately couldn't do much to remedy that. Besides, it kind of fit his whole "man living in the mountains with a bunch of poisonous babies crawling over him all the time" thing he had going on.

Suffice to say, Zisu was very much out of his league. He was alright with that, however. He knew in his heart that he didn't belong in Jubilife, let alone Hisui as a whole. He was slowly realizing he was most likely from the future, as odd as that was to think about. And, the most important memory was that he had a brother. A brother he needed to get back to as soon as possible.

Romance, no matter how unlikely it was, would only hinder that. But that didn't stop his stupid heart from fluttering like a butterfree when she smiled at him.

God, Ingo was in too deep. Zisu abruptly smacked him on the back, his spine cracking like a glowstick (what is a glowstick?) before patting him on the shoulder.

"Ingo! Ya alright there? You got that 1000 mile stare again! Also, I think you need to fix your posture, because that was NOT a healthy noise for your spine to make!"

"Ah, my apologies. I was just...Thinking. About things. And stuff."

Eloquent. Verry smooth. Ingo resisted the urge to facepalm, and also to jump in a hole.

"Well! Thinking can be hard sometimes, so I get it. Especially with how hot it is!"

Oh. Ingo hadn't even noticed the heat until Zisu had mentioned it.

"I hadn't even noticed until you pointed it out, but it is very uncomfortable outside right now." He looked over to Zisu, and tried not to choke.

She had taken off the outer layer of her uniform and wrapped it around her waist, muscles on full display. She could probably break him in half.

Sneasus christ.

Though, it was in fact absolutely miserable outside. Ingo never did well in the heat, being much more partial to the cold. He was lightheaded.

That wasn't good, probably. Especially with the way the world seemed to be tilting sideways. Wait, no, that was him.

"Ah. That's..not good." was all he could say before fainting.

He woke up in a stream. Or river? Ingo didn't know the difference, he was never good with nature terminology. He was in water. Not all the way, just up to his knees.

Zisu was staring at him. "There you are! I gotta admit Ingo, you spooked me real bad when you just collapsed like that! You should drink some water by the way, here!" She handed him his waterskin, which he accepted gratefully. While he was drinking his water, she plopped a wet towel on his head.

"I apologize if I frightened you. I...Have never done well with the heat. My brother was the opposite, however."

Zisu gasped.

"You have a brother? You never told me!"

Oh. He didn't.

"I just recently remembered him, shortly after miss Akari closed the rift. I am older by exactly 20 minutes. He...He is not here." His heart clenched in his chest painfully. Ingo tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes.

"Oh..That's very sad. But!" Zisu stood up. "I know you'll get back to him! Heck, I'll even help! Might be useful to have another person on your team!"

Oh no.

Oh no no no. Ingo was absolutely, positively smitten. He was fucked.

---------------------------------------------------------

It had now been 3 years since Ingo had arrived in Hisui, and the 1 year anniversary of him regaining all his memories. It was bittersweet, the relief of knowing who he was and where he was from tinged with the grief of what exactly he was missing. He missed his brother, he missed Elesa, he missed Iris and uncle Drayden, and he most of all missed indoor plumbing. (That was a joke. He really, really did miss showers though.)

Zisu had been very helpful with helping him regain his memories, her kind words helping him through the worst of his grief. When he had truly, fully remembered Emmet he was devastated to say the least.

They were a two car train, and he had been forcefully separated. He was nearly inconsolable. He had been gone for 2 years, unable to remember anything but small snippets for nearly half of those. But most of all, he was afraid. Ingo was afraid that his memories would slip away yet again, but when he told Zisu..

"Well I'll just have to keep remindin' ya until you remember for good then!"

His heart had skipped a traitorous beat, but he was also reassured.

"Yeah! I'll keep reminding you too!" Akari had chimed in, and Ingo realized that even without his brother or family back in Unova, he wasn't alone in Hisui.

It was a realization he should have had earlier, but it hadn't ever stuck with him until then. A fond smile found his face as he reminisced.

"Whaddya got that sappy look for?" Zisu teased, (lightly) elbowing him in his shoulder. "Ah, I was just remembering the times when I realized I was in love with you."

Zisu blushed and sputtered. Zisu, who was his girlfriend (!!!)

She picked him up by his armpits and dangled him around. "You don't get to be smooth outta the blue like that!!"

He laughed. "You're holding me like an unruly sneasel, dear."

"You basically are one!" She laughed as she pressed a kiss upon his forehead. Ingo's heart swelled. She sways him lightly. "Do I even weigh anything to you?"

"Nope!" she pops the p. "It's like holding a handful of pecha berries."

Ingo had figured. God, was he lucky.

The thought of 'Almighty Sinnoh, I want to marry this woman' flitted through his mind.

But he did. He really, really wanted to marry Zisu.

"Ingo? You there?" She swayed him more.

"Sorry, was just thinking about wanting to marry you." What.

He did not just say that.

"Y- Me??"

Oh arceus, he did.

"I. Did not mean to say that out loud. I do mean it, tho-??" He was cut off by Zisu nearly breaking his spine with her hug.

"Me too! Not a conventional proposal, but we aren't very conventional anyways!" She sniffled a little.

How in the world did he get so lucky?

---------------------------------------------------------

"That was verrry sappy. I am Emmet, and I am almost impressed with how full of sap that was." Emmet poked Ingo on the shoulder. "But! I am not against having a sister in law suddenly! It is just more sisters for me."

"Oh, like Iris and Elesa weren't enough?"

"There can always be more!"

Ingo laughed.

"You weren't kidding when you said identical! Though, now that I'm really looking...Emmet looks like you but." Zisu makes vague motions with her hands. "Flipped?"

"We are mirror twins." Ingo starts.

"We are the same, but flipped! It is verrry hard to notice unless you look closely." Emmet finishes.

"That means you are perceptive, yup!" Zisu beams.

"Always have been! In fact, I knew Ingo was crushin' on me from the start!" Ingo sputters, flushing bright red. "You didn't need to tell him that!"

Emmet gets an evil look in his eye.

"Tell. Me. Everything. I need blackmail."

"Emmet!"

"Oh, I'd be happy to!"

"Dear!"

Ingo, despite his embarrassment is just happy that Emmet and Zisu are getting along. Even if it is slightly at his expense.

His eyes get a little misty, but he ignores it.

"Brother?! Are you crying, whats wrong?"

Ingo pats Emmet's hand reassuringly. "I'm fine, just...I'm glad to be home and with my family."

Ingo gets crushed in a hug from both sides, but he doesn't mind. It feels warm, safe and loving. He missed this.

He really is glad to be home.

#submas #writing #ingo #emmet #dojoshipping #ingo x zisu #bi man and his big wife from 300 years ago appear in modern day unova #more at 12!#zisu #zisu seeing ingo faint from heat exhaustion: ohhh i cant not marry him.#YES im projecting onto ingo ok I WANT A BIG WIFE #not mentioned rlly but ingo and zisu are both bi and ingo is trans because. i can #fluff #warden ingo #pla #pkmn bw

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shouta-aizawow · 2 years

Note

[for the ask game]

HI HI :D idk if you’re ok with me saying your name so I won’t, but thanks for the ask!! 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

Bakugou/Bakugou-Related

Bakugou is Not CisHet has to be the biggest one. That boy is queer I tell you!!!!

Uhhhh I don’t see him being romantically attracted to women at all as well. Like, maybe sexually ig but not romantically. He’s not into the girls in his class at all. I accept MomoBaku hesitantly, but I think his “crushes” on women are largely just celebrity crushes (like on pro heroes)

Also I refuse to believe he will grow up to be some sort of tank like endeavor. Absolutely not. He will be lithe. There’s no way he’d be able to do all those arial maneuvers otherwise

He’ll be the number one hero idc idc (unless he decides he doesn’t want to be. If he wants to be he will be one)

He’s good at stealth. Not even a headcanon, but he is quiet when people aren’t provoking him, and he’s extremely level headed in a fight even when he’s pissed off.

He’s not gonna be super tall as an adult. Look at his parents, that boy is not growing more than 6’ (tbh I can accept it but only if his partner(s) are taller than him) He gives “I got my growth spurt in middle/high school school” energy. If he has a growth spurt, I think he’d be really awkward in his body for a while until he grows more confident and has a high self esteem.

Mitsuki and Masaru are bad parents. It’s not “””confirmed””” but based on canon it’s clear that they aren’t, even if they love Katsuki.

He has PTSD, he’s neurodivergent, he’s insecure, has a superiority/inferiority complex, he has depression and anxiety

Bakugou pushes everyone to be better. His friends stick with him because they like him, not just bc he cooks for and tutors them, and he pushes them to improve and expect the best of themselves

Although Deku was Shouto’s first friend, he considers Bakugou his closest or best friend. The Remedial Squad is a healthier friendship for Shouto than the Deku Squad (I’d argue that they’re also healthier for Bakugou than Sero and Mina)

Disclaimer: Bakugou is not a toxic friend to Shouto. I think now Bakugou considers Shouto his friend and respects him based on his words in the manga, but before that, Bakugou has stated numerous times that they were not friends. He can’t be a “bad friend” if he doesn’t even consider them friends, and Shouto can believe they’re close friends (I think they’re close) even if Bakugou doesn’t think they’re friends. That doesn’t make Bakugou a bad person

If he‘d okay with sex, he is not a top or at least not a top-leaning switch IDC WHAT YOU SAY HIS NAME COMES LAST IN A SHIP

Kaminari

Kaminari isn’t some twig I will not stand for it. (Also the way he’s portrayed in fanon a lot of the time is a squick of mine) He may not be as muscular as some of others, but he has muscle and I think when he gets older, he’d either have the body type of Hawks or more buff

He’s an awesome friend to Bakugou idc idc idc he knows boundaries and doesn’t do things he knows Bakugou won’t like. At the beginning he may not have liked him, but he likes him now

Kirishima

Kirishima will be tall. Very tall. Tbh I think all the boys in 1-A would be pretty tall (mineta doesn’t exist)

He’s definitely mixed

He’s emotionally mature and would speak up if he has a problem. He wouldn’t just let if fester

He’s occasionally insecure like the average person, but he’s not depressed (he’d probably have PTSD based on this year alone, but at least beforehand I don’t think he was depressed) and definitely not suicidal

He doesn’t want to “fix” Bakugou at all. He became friends with Bakugou because he knew that that was how he was. Of course he wants to push Bakugou to be better, but he doesn’t think he needs to be fixed. Speaking of Bakugou, Bakugou doesn’t make him feel insecure in the slightest. He makes him feel stronger

Deku

He’s gonna be a tall tank like All Might (maybe not as tall but yknow what I mean). I guess I could accept if he’s short, but he will be buff

If he didn’t have OFA, then I think he’d be shorter and definitely have no muscle like his middle school days. Probably more on the lanky side, maybe awkwardly so, but maybe he grows into it

Deku isn’t a good friend to Todoroki

He’s lowkey but not lowkey an abuse apologist (Endeavor, Overhaul, I’d even argue with Kota’s parents although I don’t think they were abusive. He handled Kota’s grieving in an absolutely awful way.) I think this is Hori’s mentality being portrayed through Deku, but

He’s an unreliable narrator

He doesn’t respect boundaries, least of all the boundaries of Bakugou (again, not really a headcanon just based off of all the times Bakugou as verbally and no verbally expressed discomfort with Deku’s knowledge of him and actions yet Deku keeps pushing)

Teachers

Aizawa is not straight

Present Mic is not straight

All Might is an awful awful awful mentor and teacher

Midnight shouldn’t be a teacher of kids. She’s,,, ick

Nedzu is 0/10 and shouldn’t be a principal when he hates humans (if he’s a good… person… in fics that’s fine, but I definitely don’t think he is in canon)

Others

Mina is black

Miruko is black

Rock Lock speaks only facts. He’s always right

Inko is not a bad parent in the slightest. She’s may not be absolutely perfect, but she’s a good mom

I probably have more, but this is all I have at the moment. If I have more, I’d probably reblog this post with them 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

I like how I managed to squeeze in Bakugou in nearly every category. Go me!!! 🕺🕺🕺🕺💃💃💃💃💃💃

#thank you for sending!!!#🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡#this is my opinion #you won’t change my mind <3 #if you don’t come correct then I’ll block you #(this is for the ppl that sometimes come into my mentions)#wow! asks!#long post #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bnha headcanons #if you saw typos no you didn’t

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Note

You have the best co-writers 🥺. Okay, I totally just threw this in a random generator but how about:

Secret Royal + Mechanic + "Nothing's THAT important, you know."

Ohhh I feel like this is going to be good. 😏

Hey, I did my best for this one :/

I have tried - out of respect - to tailor this a little bit, so...Ladies and Gentlemen, here comes an attempt at writing Bagginshield from me 🙈

Thank you so much for the request & I hope you won't be too disappointed 😞

Words: 1,7 k

Warnings: None

Being a mechanic was fiddly work, but – thankfully – Bilbo Baggins was a man who rejoiced in puzzles; many a person would have believed that his job was all about brute force – yanking and screwing – when in truth, he caressed engines back to life with such an exceptional precision that he was almost famous around here.

He didn’t look the part though; prim and proper – or vain as some people liked to call it – he straightened his waistcoat after having wiped his hands meticulously. Bilbo was a gentleman, he was a mechanic, and he was a mysterious bachelor.

Now, if one were to ask him, he would have scoffed and wrinkled his nose at the epithet ‘mysterious’ for – in his opinion – there was nothing enigmatic about the lack of a spouse; he simply was unmarried and if that gave rise to serious questions, he was inclined to doubt the intelligence of whoever was thus derailed by a fact so simple.

“Bilbo? There’s some dude outside who wants you to take a look at his car,” one of the neighbours – blight and blessing of his life – called through the small window standing slightly ajar to let some fresh air into the stuffy workshop.

“I am on my break,” Bilbo grumbled; what he meant to say was that he had just finished the task of the day and had been looking forward to curling up with a book in his office.

Maybe, people were right after all when they said – behind his back – that he was much too set in his habits for a man so young still and Bilbo deemed it lucky for them that growing irate at nosey townsfolk was not one of those habits then.

“No, but come look at him,” the neighbour went on.

“Him? It’s a boy-car?” Bilbo replied, relieved that the man could not see him rolling his eyes.

“No, you jester, the man…the owner of the car!”

With a deep sigh – and a last look into the floor-length mirror standing in the corner for convenience – Bilbo made his way outside to go look at all those fantastical things that had apparently appeared out of thin air.

“Hello, are you the mechanic?” a low, grumbly voice resounded, and Bilbo had to shade his eyes with his hand as he stared right into the light – only broken by the silhouette of the stranger – of the blazing midday sun.

“I am. Are you the ‘man…the owner of the car’?” Bilbo replied in a soft singsong voice; now that he had stepped out, he could clearly recognise that his neighbour’s words must have been overheard by said person.

“I am…I’m…Thorin,” the man said and extended a broad, elegant hand full of heavy rings and smudged with oil.

“I see you’ve tried to remedy whatever’s wrong yourself,” Bilbo quipped and walked around the man to take a look at the car – standing abandoned in the middle of the parking lot – without so much as a thought about how this new position would allow him to take in that stranger better.

Upon further reflexion, the shadow of that very same thought might have crossed the mechanic’s mind and he threw a quick glance – after all, he had been called forth to throw glances and looks at everything – at the man having turned around to watch Bilbo in turn.

He was taller than Bilbo, broad-shouldered and long-haired, and he had the bluest, most intense eyes he had ever seen; an unexpected warmth flooded Bilbo’s chest akin to the breathless awe he felt when coming across a particularly well-kept classic car.

What a beauty, he thought, and – him truly not being like everyone else – that realisation made him frown and scowl rather than smile at that picture of sturdy but gracious virility.

Moreover, he had not missed the heartbeat of hesitation upon identifying himself as ‘Thorin’; either that was not his true name or there was simply more to it.

“Bilbo Baggins,” he offered up his own full name, but the stranger simply repeated those two syllables that held the hint of a foreign pronunciation like vanilla and cinnamon – no matter how sparsely used – would always change the flavour of a cake.

“Alright, Thorin,” Bilbo chuckled, his fatigue and reluctance blown away by the curiosity a face such as this one inevitably inspired, “the good news is that there’s nothing seriously wrong with your car and the bad news is that it will take a day to get the necessary piece.”

Usually, he prided himself on his excellent connections and – of this much he was sure – all his other customers would have been delighted to know that he’d be able to fix whatever was wrong within 24 hours, but Thorin – clearly a stranger to these parts – looked disheartened.

“Oh no,” he grumbled, “I need to be on my way tonight. I have an important…meeting.”

Ah, there it was again, and Bilbo’s ears perked up; there was something that gorgeous stranger was hiding from him.

“Well, I cannot – in good conscience – let you leave in this car,” he set his foot down; despite his optimistic assessment, he would not compromise his professional integrity and let Thorin drive away in a potentially dangerous car that could give out at the most inopportune of moments.

“It’s important,” Thorin mumbled, rubbing that mesmerising hand over the dense, dark beard covering a strong jaw that was set stubbornly.

“It’s dangerous!”

“It’s really important!” Eyes the colour of glaciers and rock springs turned pleadingly onto Bilbo’s soft face, making his heart and bones melt a little around the edges, but not his resolve…never his resolve.

“Nothing’s THAT important, you know,” Bilbo huffed, “you could get into a serious crash, and I will not risk that.”

A tiny sliver of doubt lodged itself between his good resolutions and his professional pride now though; he could easily have offered a replacement vehicle – even his own – but for some reason, he felt almost irrationally jealous and possessive.

He didn’t want Thorin to leave before he could get to the bottom of that secret he was flaunting – veiled and impenetrable – so brazenly; Bilbo was indeed a man who loved a good puzzle and he itched to fiddle with this one until it was solved.

“You don’t understand,” Thorin looked around as if to check if not another dozen townspeople were hidden in the bushes lining the parking lot – a good and smart reflex in Bilbo’s opinion – before whispering: “I am to attend diplomatic talks of monumental significance.”

Bilbo chewed on that information for a second before straightening up and nodding slowly.

“I can lend you my own car,” he offered, “but you’ll have to bring it back in perfect condition once you’re done.”

“Oh,” Thorin’s eyes lit up with a joyous gleam – relief and gratitude swirling like stars in the depths of that azure ocean – and he was tempted to hug the small, soft man who looked so incongruous standing in front of his business, “I’d be ever so thankful. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With a small ‘humph’ sound, Bilbo waved him into the building and flipped the sign on the door to deter any other customers from bothering him today; he was now officially ‘closed for the day’.

The awareness that he was basically locked in with the most handsome man he had ever beheld in his life made the skin under his freshly pressed white shirt prickle.

Mysterious, Bilbo remembered his earlier musings, there was nothing mysterious about the absence of a woman in his life, it was easily explained by his visceral reaction to this blindingly handsome creature headed for ‘important negotiations’.

“I trust you to keep this quiet,” Thorin breathed as he leaned against the wooden counter and pushed his passport over; he kept his palm – huge and strong – on top of it until Bilbo nodded with a small smile that melted into a shocked gasp.

“Your Majesty,” he squeaked.

“I see, keeping it quiet did not work,” Thorin laughed under his breath.

He flinched when Bilbo’s hand came to cover his own reassuringly, giving it a few short pats for good measure as he swore – on his mother’s grave – that he would not tell a soul about who Thorin really was.

“You can trust me,” he promised.

“Can I?”

“I decided to trust you not to wreck my car as you did your own!” Bilbo cocked one eyebrow at him; king or not, Thorin had arrived here with a damaged vehicle and Bilbo had agreed to handing over his own baby.

“You are right, Master Baggins, my apologies,” Thorin grinned; he was amazed by this little fellow who seemed so comfortable and cosy and yet took every curveball thrown at him in his stride as if he had never known a quiet instant in his life.

“Bring back my car,” Bilbo muttered, “and maybe a spot of dinner depending on when you expect to be back?”

It was brazen, but Bilbo had the instinctive feeling that he’d get along great with this foreign king; no doubt, he had been mollycoddled way too much and it would be good for him to spend some time with ordinary folk.

“Sure thing,” Thorin chuckled; he hadn’t laughed this much in a long time and already, his heart – aggrieved and worried by the talks he was heading to – felt lighter after this unfortunate intermezzo, which was an unexpected but very welcome surprise.

“I’ll see you then,” Bilbo replied sheepishly; he had not expected a literal king to agree that easily to his cheeky invitation.

With a flourish, he handed over his car keys, the small tokens in the form of different flowers jangling softly as they fell into Thorin’s hand as if into a ravine of flesh.

“I will be back as soon as I can,” Thorin promised as he tucked away his passport again without Bilbo having made so much as a copy of it.

Bilbo made an unconvinced sound; he was pretty sure that diplomatic incidents had a tendency to grow longer than expected and not shorter, but – as a frown darkened that heavy brow – he decided not to meet trouble halfway.

“Ah,” Thorin’s face cleared into a summer sky – radiant and painfully beautiful – once more, “as you have witnessed, I can be very persuasive. I’ll tell them that it’s important.”

As he strolled towards the door, he turned one last time to meet Bilbo’s gaze and grinned: “Some things are just THAT important."

So, here we are...

Lots of love from me <3

I guess this qualifies as @fellowshipofthefics <3

#request #IDNMT answers #May challenge #fotfics #fotfics May Challenge #Bagginshield #Bilbo Baggins #Thorin Oakenshield #Modern!Au #Modern Bagginshield #Mechanic #Secret Royal #sunny's prompt #I tried

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thenamesblurrito · 2 years

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ask dumps hitting double digits 😳

hooooo boy number ten!! okay today we got: what self repair looks like, transformable furniture, medical supplies, mythological creatures, multiple bodies, TFP’s Nemesis, a Final Fantasy reference, teething kiddos, and cosmetic alterations

yknow that’s a good question i thought i had talked about this before but it appears not. for scrapes and scratches, i always picture a rough grey “scab” of nanites, sort of like a weld mark but grittier, as the repair nanites form a protective layer over what they’re rebuilding, which eventually flakes away and paint nanites grow over the spot. individual nanites are too small to see with the naked optic, but a fuzzy or cloudy area on the optic that can’t be blinked or polished away would absolutely be distracting, maybe moreso than a clean cut!

yes! and sort of no? there’s a lot of multi-purpose foldable or transformable furniture, appliances, tools, even rooms sometimes. the technology exists and it’s very useful! but along with the size and frametype segregation that’s built into architecture, size and frametype specified furniture is restricted to heavily trafficked public use buildings that cater to all classes, or fancy areas that have guests from everywhere. otherwise, you’re generally only going to find specific furniture for specific frames. if you’re a different size or frametype, too bad!

this is yet another way the JAAT is ahead of the game, all of its furniture and living spaces are accessible for as many frametypes as possible, and with more specialized settings to be brought out when someone needs something different. the kids are thrilled when they settle into their dorms and discover hey, this chair will unfold taller for a minibot and shorter for a size 4 so they can be at equal height at the table, and the back will recede so wings won’t be obstructed

ha i didn’t think about herbal remedy type stuff for mecha, that’s clever actually. this is sort of related to the sixth ask here

medical care generally comes in two distinct but intrinsically linked halves: physical and digital. like how computer issues are thought of as either a hardware or software problem, mecha need both hardware and software running well to be healthy. on the digital side, there are ‘booster shots’ like datapackets on one-use interface jacks, or temporary fixtures to run scripts while the nervous circuitry is updating or recovering. on the physical side, it’s a lot of metalworking and mechanical tools. plasters and plastic covers, buffers, welders, etc. think the kind of stuff you’d see TFP Knock-out use, or Ratchet. proper medical supplies are sanitary, specific, and medical providers will usually check both hardware and software to see that whatever is being done is going well for both physical and digital systems

for homemade junker stuff specifically, you can basically pick up anything that’s clean and can be attached and use it as a patch of sorts, but it won’t integrate with the frame and you need to be careful to keep it clean so you don’t give yourself a rust infection. datacables might mitigate the unresponsiveness of this kind of extremely basic prosthetic, but they’re never going to have the sensory feedback of an actual frame, and are extremely unlikely to allow transformation. Terminus is a good example, he had to make his own prosthetic pede when he ended up on the streets. medicinally, there are some cyberflora with good health benefits, like logginkeys having seeds that can be eaten as basic debugging pills, but the problem is junkers may have zero access to any cyberflora in their given area if it doesn’t already grow there. stealing or rummaging through the trash might be a better option at that point

well uh, not skeletons i guess, because they... don’t have skeletons. there’s the Necrobot, who is real, there’s the giant alloygator cryptid, who is also real, there’s legends of demons, ghosts, Primal elements, and of course all the various gods, demigods, and other forms of Prime or Prime-adjacent beings from ancient history, along with their alleged God War. they certainly have stories of the undead in various forms, especially around inhospitable places like the Rad Zone in Ultrix or the Forbidden Zone in Iacon. places like the Mithric Sea have stories of creatures like kelpies or sirens, indistinct and calling out to travelers to just come deeper for a bit, just a little farther, there’s something to see here, and the victim doesn’t realize they’ve been lured into fatal mercury exposure until they fall apart. the Sea of Ages has opposite figures, blessed children forged from the seas outside of any hotspot, or great hidden spirits of energon and sentio metallico that hear prayers and grant wishes at just the right time. there’s some mythologized accounts of real, extinct cyberfauna, like the giant flying whales of Cybertron, and some stories that might not be related to extinct cyberfauna at all, like stories of moving, living cities and great organic skeletons buried in the deep layers of the planet

and of course there’s all kinds of legendary, religious, or folkloric figures from all of history. think like anything ranging from Odysseus to Johnny Appleseed to Enkidu to King Arthur. people with fantastical, impossible abilities, or wild journeys, or impossible feats of skill and strength and accomplishment. some of them may be real historical figures like the Knights of Cybertron, some may be completely made up, and some may have a small basis in reality but are otherwise mythologized. of course, nobody expects people like the Autobots and Decepticons to show up and suddenly start making those stories look plausible

also i take back the no skeletons thing, because i’ve been reminded of something that absolutely fits (thank you stone!). Eukaris is a planet with a cyberformed organic ecology, and as such there’s cyberfauna and flora right alongside organic animals and plants that have adapted to live together. this planet definitely has legends of strange beastformers called Fossilizers, forged out of the corpses of organic animals and transforming from skeletons to living mecha. bizarre and terrifying for a mechanical species!

mmmmmmmm actually i need to check my relic list, wherever the heck it’s gone

can’t find my list ._. the one from that mythology post is outdated, i’ll just have to make a new one. anyway. yes, probably! i like this idea a lot. it would definitely depend on the individual receiving the relic, since not everyone has the same powerset even when using the same relic. this is probably a good candidate for a different manifestation of the Enigma’s powers, maybe the Onyx Triptych or the Arsenal Force. an Allspark shard might do this too. i can’t promise this will actually happen but i think it’s definitely plausible, i’ll have to see if i can work it in somewhere

i forgot what this meant and was trying to remember and all i could come up with was some kind of anti-dating app

so im going to assume you mean MECH’s Project Chimera? maybe? i don’t recall anything named Nemesis Protocol specifically and nothing turns up on the wiki under that term. drones and automatons in SNAP can get pretty advanced, but they are crucially not alive by biological or spiritual standards for Cybertronians. you could probably build a drone that looks very similar to a person and program it very well, but it would take some really good luck to keep up the charade for long when interacting with other people. it’s also basically impossible to fake a spark, and you can’t transplant/extract living sparks either, so all it would take is a cursory medical examination. i also use different design elements for drones vs people to make them visually distinct, their optics and the layout of their fingers being the most obvious

so a fake drone version of Optimus Prime is possible, but not super convincing, which is why the Nemesis Prime that shows up in SNAP will have a different origin :3

OH THIS IS THE MEME GIF OF THE GUY SMILING INTO AN EXPLOSION THIS IS WHERE THATS FROM??? ASFHGFRRFE

so i will be honest i barely understood what was going on in this video and i also have no idea what the Fate you’re referring to means (surprise! Final Fantasy is also something i know nothing about!!) but the concept of a fatal finishing move is absolutely possible. Hellscream, Optimus, and Rodimus especially since they’re the immortal ones. Elita 4, Elita 5, Thunderblast, and Cyclonus also could probably take out a massive area with a self-destructive burst. but the whole magical binding circle thing in the video... i don’t actually think so? that’s not really how these relics work

however. as for bodily laser-beam just bursting straight through an enemy at speed, Cheetor can do that. get him an enemy with a chest cavity big enough to pass through and he’ll run literally straight through them and probably take out their spark chamber on the way

so mecha don’t actually start out with individual dentae. sparklings already have dental shelves or plates in place from forging, so they don’t need to nom on things as teeth grow in. same for folks with grinder mouths, it’s already fully formed and functional. that does not however mean that sparklings won’t absolutely chew on anything and everything just as a matter of exploration. depends on the kid of course, some will fit anything in their mouths and some refuse to let even fuel get near their face if it’s unfamiliar

i forgot about that movie wth that was such a good movie

i know i’ve mentioned this before. somewhere. ugh. most of the time the more drastic frame alterations will be function related, so something to improve your alt mode, or what have you. smaller cosmetic alterations can be anything from new paintjobs (eventually worn off as the natural hardcoding of the frame replaces the other paint color, like dyeing hair), to engraved or programmed tattoos, to modifying kibble shape to be sleeker or bulkier or something. permanent decals are kind of like piercing equivalents. drones are a good idea, i didn’t think of those. they’d have to stay away from transformation seams so they don’t get caught

i have reedmecha written in my notes as a type of cyberfauna but i haven’t expanded on that yet

i think while the Robots villain concept is possible, it’s just highly improbable. sure, there have been folks obsessed with the living metal of a frame (like Cannibaron) but also, why would you go through all the trouble of rounding up and murdering mecha, sorting through their corpses to separate out each material, processing that into something usable, and then selling it? they live on a planet made of metal, they really don’t need to kill each other for it. even the government largely ignores junkers instead of rounding them up all at once, because it’s really too much work for a problem that ultimately takes care of itself when they starve

#Ask dump #worldbuilding #cybertronian biology #cybertronian culture #knights of cybertron #cybertron #eukaris #junk #transformers

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