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#been thinking about Them lately
floofle-universe · 8 months
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There should be more Ice king x magic Betty propaganda
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jerreeeeeee · 3 months
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redraw of this from 3 years ago
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itsjaywalkers · 3 months
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a lil smth under the cut for u guys <3
part 2 part 3
"Potter, if you dare to step any closer, I swear I will knock your teeth out."
Potter halts his advancement as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, but Regulus remains tense, alert, shoulders stiff and hands itching to curl into fists. Maybe it's because he knows Potter more than enough after all these weeks of watching his matches and interviewing him after them. Weeks of listening to him brag, and taunt, and flirt shamelessly, despite Regulus always being set on retaining some sense of professionalism.
Maybe it's because of the way he smirks at Regulus' threat, or how he raises both hands in mock surrender, the gesture lazy and insincere.
Or maybe it's the fact that they're alone in the ring, even though Regulus should've left with his crew more than half an hour ago. And the fact that Potter isn't wearing a shirt, but he seems to be allergic to them, anyway, so it's not like it fazes him at this point.
That's what he keeps telling himself, at least.
"You can certainly try," Potter says with his hands still up, and offering a tiny shrug. "I don't know if I like your chances, though."
Regulus narrows his eyes. "You don't think I can fight you?"
"I don't think you can win."
He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets out a scoff, and Potter's smirk seems to grow bigger at the sound.
"And why the fuck not?" Regulus questions.
"Because I'm a professional boxer, love," Potter explains, his voice patient, but there's a certain mocking edge in his words that makes Regulus grits his teeth. "I wouldn't be where I am if someone like you could touch me."
"Someone like me?" Regulus repeats a bit incredulously. He can already feel that one vein in his forehead starting to pop out.
James chuckles, shaking his head a little. He finally drops his arms down. "You know what I mean."
"Actually, I don't. And I'm not sure I want to."
"C'mon, love—"
"Don't call me that."
"—you don't even know how to throw a punch."
Regulus blinks at him, not sure if he's heard correctly, and then he does a double take, barely repressing a derisive snort.
"Excuse me?" he murmurs. "Of course I know how to throw a punch."
"You think you know how to throw a punch," Potter corrects him, that infuariating smile still in place. Regulus is tempted to prove him how well he can actually throw a punch just to wipe it off his face.
"I mean, obviously I can't do it like you do, you're a professional athlete, for fuck's sake—"
"Oh, love, don't worry, I'd never hold you to my standards," Potter intervenes with a laugh, eyes shining with mirth. Regulus face is beginning to heat up, and he isn't sure if it's because of anger or something else. "I'm not talking about a boxing punch. I'm talking about a proper punch."
Regulus exhales loudly, fingers twitching. "Potter."
"Yeah?"
"I know how to throw a fucking proper punch."
Potter raises an eyebrow and he lets his gaze to go up and down the length of Regulus' body, slow and intentional. Regulus has a hard time not squirming, battling against his instincts to keep his face empty, to stop his thighs from pressing together.
"I bet you don't," Potter comments, once his eyes finally find Regulus' again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't make breathing any easier. "You're too pretty to have been getting into fights."
Regulus is unable to suppress an indignant huff, cheeks coulouring at an alarming pace while his expression twists into a scowl.
"You don't fucking know me," he seethes, jaw so clenched it's slowly becoming painful. "You've got no idea of how my life looks like, or what I've done to get where I'm at."
Potter seems unbothered by the outburst. In fact, he kind of looks a little entertained.
"Maybe so," he concedes with a tilt of his head. "But I know you'd break easy."
Regulus' heart skips a beat. "I don't—"
"Just look at you," Potter goes on, staring him up and down once again. He still sounds slightly mocking, but there's something else in his tone this time. Something darker. "So fucking gorgeous. Holding yourself like you're goddamn royalty. You're feisty, and you're sneaky, I'll give you that, but you'd fold embarrisingly fast against me, wouldn't you, love?"
Regulus gulps, throat suddenly so dry it feels like sandpaper. He tries to shake his head, but his body isn't responding, and when he opens his mouth to snap back, nothing comes out of it.
"You like to act all tough and cold and as if nothing can touch you, but if I were to lay my hands on you—"
"Potter," Regulus manages to spit out, but it sounds hoarse. Weak.
"Oh, you'd break so beautifully for me, right, love? You'd put a bit of a fight at first, because you can't help yourself, and I like that about you anyway, but you'd let go at some point."
"Potter," he tries again, and it sounds a bit sharper, but still too close to a whimper for Regulus' tastes.
"I'd fucking ruin you if you allowed me to, Regulus." His name makes him tremble, goosebumps breaking into his skin, and Regulus has to bite his tongue to stop an inappropriate noise from escaping. "I know you want to. You're really fucking stubborn, and you almost fooled me that first time, that's true, but one can only keep that facade for so long. I've seen how you look at me."
"And how do I look at you?"
"Like all those girls who can't ask me for an autograph without blushing, thinking of me when they have their hands between their legs," Potter responds, gaze so intense it makes Regulus want to scream. "Like your cameraman whenever I stand a bit too close to him, always shifting his body the slightest bit so his shoulder grazes mine. Like Lily whenever I'm between her thighs, and she's begging me to let her come."
Regulus almost gasps, burning with fury but also with something that has nothing to do with it.
The audacity of this man, really. Regulus hates him. Despises him, even. Him and his absurd amount of confidence that has no business being this attractive.
It's hard to pretend to be unaffacted. To pretend he doesn't feel a stab in his stomach by that last statement, by the thought of James and Lily being together, even though it's something he's known almost since the beginning. To act like he doesn't care, like he isn't fucking aching between his legs, wet and hot and desperate.
Regulus doesn't think he completely manages it.
"You're so fucking full of yourself," Regulus grinds out, digging his nails into his arms so hard he's sure to leave marks.
"And yet I'm not hearing you deny it," Potter sing-songs, still grinning widely.
"I don't like you," Regulus insists, raising his chin.
"But you want me to fuck you."
This time, a strangled sound, high-pitched and bordering on needy, manages to slip out of Regulus' mouth, and James shows teeth, that feral light that appears every time he wins a match shining in his brown eyes.
"You wish," Regulus says, trying to save whatever dignity he has left, trying to fix this stupid mistake, this amateur slip up.
"I do," Potter confirms with ease, and Regulus can't swallow properly with the knot he has stuck in between his vocal chords.
"Shut up," it's all that Regulus can get out, which is quite pathetic, but still better than nothing.
"That's still not a denial," Potter points out, satisfaction oozing of him and making Regulus see red.
"I literally can't fucking stand you. I don't think it's necessary for me to tell you that I don't want anything to do with you," Regulus snaps. "Besides, if so many people are tripping all over themselves for you, then I don't understand why you're not bothering them instead."
"Because I want you."
Regulus actually chokes after that, a gulp of air getting stuck in his throat and his heart beating madly between his ribs.
"No." He shakes his head, furiously, desperately, and takes a step back almost at the same time that Potter takes a step forward.
"Yes," the other man presses, undeterred. "I want you, Regulus."
"Potter. Shut up."
"I can make you feel so good, love. You need to stop depriving yourself."
"Potter."
"I know you've thought about it. About me. I'm sure you're thinking about it now, about how amazing I'd feel between your legs, on top of you. Inside you."
"Potter. Stop."
"I bet your underwear is fucking soaked—"
"James."
It slips, sneaking past his lips without Regulus' permission, going unnoticed until it's too late to stop it, or take it back. He has the silly urge to cover his mouth with his mouth, as if that'd be enough to erase the word, the power and implications that name holds.
The reaction is almost immediate.
James' pupils spread out, eating at his irises at a concerning pace. Regulus is so distracted looking at them, that it takes him a moment to realise James is advancing, rushing towards him like a man on a mission.
Regulus retreats, nearly falling over in his haste, doing his best to get as far away from the other man as possible. But James is faster than him, and his back ends up colliding against one of the pillars of the ring. James has his arms bracketing his head in a matter of seconds, and all of a sudden, Regulus is trapped. With absolutely nowhere to go.
"Get away from me!" Regulus exclaims, voice all wrong and wobbly, hands coming up to push at James' chest but not daring to touch.
"Say it again," James demands, completely ignoring him.
"What?"
"Say it again."
Regulus scoffs weakly. "I don't want to."
"Regulus."
"Get. The fuck. Away. From me."
"Regulus."
It shakes him to his very core, and he's helpless to the shudder that rattles his frame, to the way his eyes screw close, so very tight his vision fills up with shiny spots.
When he opens them again, a few moments later, he ends up meeting James' hungry gaze head on.
It destroys the last of his defences.
"James," he repeats in a whisper, heat coiling in his stomach at the other man's intake of breath.
"Again," James asks, almost demands, voice low and strained.
"James."
"Again." And it's a beg.
"James."
"Yeah," the other man mumbles to himself. "Yeah."
James leans forward, and Regulus feels like he's about go into cardiac arrest until James turns his head at the very last second, mouth grazing the lobe of his ear instead of his lips.
"I'll teach you," he tells him softly. Quietly.
"What?" he asks, hardly breathing and refusing to move a single muscle.
James huffs, and it's amused. "How to throw a punch."
"My brother already taught me," Regulus retorts with a roll of his eyes. "And he's better than you."
"Was better than me," James shoots back, and despite this being a topic that usually annoys him, always getting him all petty and defensive, it barely drags an irritated sigh out of him this time.
"Winning one match doesn't mean anything."
"Except that it does."
"No, it doesn't. Sirius' been unbeatable for literal years, and he's worked his arse off to get to where he is, and you'll never—"
"C'mon, love," James whines against his ear, and Regulus has to swallow a gasp. "I'll lend you some comfier clothes and I'll show you how to stand and some tricks, make sure next time I'm being too much of a prick you can shut me up nicely. Maybe you'll even break my nose."
Regulus bites his lower lip, refusing to allow the corners of his mouth to curl upwards. "That does sound good."
James chuckles, and Regulus doesn't acknowledge the way that sounds fills his chest with warmth.
"So? Okay?" James wonders.
Regulus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hopes he won't come to regret this, and sends a silent apology to his brother.
He opens his eyes.
"Okay."
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akirakirxaa · 3 months
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[ 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 ]
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nasykuching · 2 years
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Sunshot campaign
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viviatwilight · 7 months
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yeah man thats babies
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jieanette · 9 months
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hectorcard in the rain...
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feng-huli · 25 days
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In the Presence of the General
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shunshinstan · 1 year
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The thing about gaaleesakuino is that Lee is both Gaara's boyfriend and Sakura's girlfriend while Sakura is both Ino's girlfriend and Lee's boyfriend. Hope this clears things up
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leggerefiore · 1 year
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I should write something for the Demon AU for old times sake lol
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I feel like in the Con AU, Dream would quickly pick up on if Cala is uncomfortable with a situation or holding in something. I feel like he has very high insight to see her actual reaction to things.
When someone at the con passive aggressively says something about her cosplay she brushes it off but Dream instantly notices her picking and fidgeting her sleeves
When someone says something wrong about the lore or when they misinterpret a lot of the dsmp characters motives (especially Dream himself) she just laughs awkwardly and moves on from the conversation but he can see that she’s holding back what she really wants to say but how her eyes look.
When someone even looks at her wrong she gives a kind smile and nod to them but he can tell by how she’s clenching her fists that she’s very uncomfortable.
He would be hesitant to ask her how she’s feeling, but he notices that she’s very defensive and adamant that she’s fine.
“Everything is fine! I’m fine-! Let’s just go look at the booths!!!”
He can tell that she distracts herself a lot, and the least he would do is help. But a part of him is expecting her to blow up so there’s that small tinge of concern for someone who is very… passionate about his world and especially him. That and treating him like an actual person.
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marivenah · 1 year
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4,5,12,15,21 + Paz & Simon!
thank you so much Amanda 💙💙 and I am so sorry it took me this long to answer these 😭
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4. What’s something they swore they wouldn’t do, and then did as a parent?
I guess becoming parents in the first place? With everything Paz had gone through, she'd never expected to have a family (again), especially not kids. As for Simon, he never really planned to have any either. So, their little family came kind of unexpected (or let's say the decision to have kids because all of them were planned!)
Otherwise, I'd say Simon never wanted to spoil the kids, which he stuck to when it came to the boys. But as soon as Fina was there, it was over for him sksks She's the exception.
5. How did they feel when they met their child for the first time?
They were so happy when each one arrived, though the birth of their oldest, Pedro, was the most special one because it was their first child. Paz cried and Simon had such a big smile on his face when he held the little boy for the first time. It's only ever around his family when Simon lets his guard down completely, he just goes so soft.
12. Who stays up late to help the kids out with their schoolwork the night before it’s due?
Both of them actually 😭 When it comes to schoolwork, both of them are rather strict, because education's important. But they'd still help the kids with it even one day before it's due.
15. Who has the easiest time spoon-feeding the baby? Who practically has to bribe the baby in order to feed them?
Well, you see, usually Simon is the more convincing one of the two, but that's due to his threatening aura. Works very well on enemies (or people he can't stand). But he'd never want to scare the kids, so he has a harder time getting the babies to eat. And Paz is generally more cheerful, so it's easier for her to feed the babies.
21. Which parent do the kids seek out for comfort when they’re scared?
That's different for each child! Pedro and Serafina usually seek out Simon, while Luke and Antonio seek out Paz.
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violetscanfly · 1 year
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Ocs :)
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that-angry-noldo · 2 years
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hm. i may or may not have finarfin & fingolfin stuff coming
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inkskinned · 10 months
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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cartooncrazyart · 1 year
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<3
[image description: a digital drawing of two women and a drake in an apple grove. A light skinned halfling woman with curly ginger hair stands on a stepladder, holding a basket of apples against her hip, smiling over at the other woman. She is a tiefling woman with light pink skin and dark purple hair, lounging in the grass and eating an apple. Behind them, a rusty orange drake lays on his back, with three apples in his mouth. End ID]
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