#*Me slightly concerned*

[deviouz]

whatever you do, don’t think about how matt murdock’s holy silver cross necklace dangles in front of your face while he fucks you oh-so-deviously.

don’t think about how matt murdock's breath against your neck was like that of a silent confession, each exhale a sinful prayer that made you tremble from the need of it all.

don’t think about how matt murdock will have you moaning out a variety of expletives and the occasional ‘oh god, matt’ when he angles those dexterous hips just right.

don’t think about how matt murdock smirks at you with such sinful lips, or how they had been buried between the plush of your thighs only moments before.

don't think about how matt murdock's voice, intoxicating and rough, pulled you in like a prayer you didn’t want to answer. every word he uttered was like a unholy promise that set your heart racing with an urgency that was impossible control.

don’t think about the way matt murdock uttered praise down at your blissed out form was practically unhallowed — “come on, angel, you can get louder than that.”

don’t think about how matt murdock’s very touch was downright unholy. your skin beneath his tempting hands burned with nothing but pure need and desire, and it was practically etched into just features just how well he knew.

don’t think about how matt murdock’s pace was a rough, steady assault, each movement building a tension too intense to bear. it was almost if he was testing your limits, drawing you closer to the edge with every deliberate and divine thrust.

and absolutely don’t think about the way matt murdock has your back arching, eyes rolling back as pure euphoria washes over your angelic form. that silver cross of his dangled before you, taunting, served as an all too familiar reminder of how every intimate encounter with matt murdock was sure to be sacrilegious.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

probably will be FORCED by Pomp And Circumstance to go to the CLOWN HOSPITAL, for a CLOWN INJURY (may or may not be An ALLEGEDLY Fractured Foot...a MOURNFUL MALADY incurred in the most PATHETIC and LAPSIDAISICAL Fashion of TRAGICALLY UNFASHIONABLY Events......

Anyway. Forgot what I was saying. Buy me 1/25th of an x-ray or whatnot I guess

[hipsternumbertwo]

Favorite Angela Moments 77/∞: Reviewing Our IMDb Pages

[hotasfahrenheit]

[Pit Babe 2 ep 5]

-----

bonus:

my reaction to Kim in this scene:

[copperphysics106]

saw this BTS image and i nearly blacked out and its been haunting me for several days lol

[pentragonart]

„You don’t know the horrors which awaits you“

[julijbee]

girlbossing too close to the sun.

[fuctacles]

<< 5 | 6 | 7 >>

The relief Eddie feels when Steve agrees to stay is almost like a drug itself. He still rolls a joint for each of them, of course. 

The movie is just as bad as Gareth promised, and Eddie finds himself looking at Steve almost as much as he does at the screen. With just a few puffs in, he's loose-limbed and relaxed, chuckling at the more ridiculous of the director's choices. It's a little terrifying that they know how blood looks from their own experience, but they try not to think about it right now. 

The movie is slowly coming to an end, when Eddie notices Steve's eyes drooping. He doesn't feel as tired himself, the adrenaline of their encounter fighting with his weed tolerance, but he imagines it took a lot of stress from Steve to come here. He's glad he could provide his friend with a safe space and comfort to finally relax. He plucks the almost finished joint out of his hand and Steve only blinks at him sleepily. 

"It's okay man, you can sleep here," Eddie reassures him while snuffing the joint out. "I can play you the end tomorrow."

Steve makes a noise that sounds like agreement and wraps the borrowed flannel shirt (double borrowed, since eons ago it used to be Wayne's) tighter around himself. 

Eddie watches him settle against the back of the couch and wonders what he can do to make this man feel loved and wanted. How he can overwrite whatever cruel thoughts the world has taught him. For now, all he can do is reach for the blanket on the back of the couch and hand it to Steve, who gratefully pulls it over himself. 

The memories of going to sleep are hazy, but slowly Eddie comes to while scratching the dog sleeping next to him. He hums in contentment, happy to wake up close to a warm body, even if it's just a pet. He nuzzles against its nape while scratching along its spine, his senses slowly clearing up. 

"I'm gonna go make breakfast," he says eventually. "I better see human Steve in the kitchen before I'm done."

Despite how cozy the bed is, he steps over the dog, whose tail pats loudly against the mattress. Eddie eyes him, unamused. 

"I'm serious. Only humans are getting scrambled eggs on my watch."

Twenty minutes later, he's happy to see Steve sitting at his kitchen table, dressed in the same sweatpants from last night. His chest is bare, but he'll let it slide this time. He picks up a mug from the cupboard. 

"How do you take your coffee, buddy?"

Both of them freeze. 

Eddie lets out an awkward cough, pouring coffee into the mug. 

"Sorry about that. Force of habit I guess. Uh, milk?"

"Yes, please." Steve nods so Eddie leaves enough space in the mug to pour in some milk. "No sugar."

Eddie nods, and he can feel Steve's stare on his back. 

"I don't mind," he says, and Eddie whips around to stare at him. "You calling me that. It's nice."

Eddie hums, adding milk to the coffee.

"Yeah?" He cocks his head, handing him the mug. "Here you go, buddy. Enjoy," he says and reaches out to scratch the back of Steve's head. 

He doesn't back down, even when he realizes what he's doing, and he can see that Steve reacts just as instinctually, leaning his head into the touch. But then he jolts away.

"Fuck, sorry."

Eddie frowns. 

"Don't be sorry. You're my friend, just like the dog. I can scratch you a bit."

Steve doesn't look convinced. He sips on his coffee to focus his attention elsewhere. 

"It's good, thank you," he says, licking his lips. "Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on the pan?"

"This conversation isn't over, Harrington!" Eddie declares, skipping back to the stove. Thankfully, he has a habit of making his eggs on a low fire so they turn out as creamy as possible. Scrambled eggs were the only thing in his life he was able to find patience for. 

"Any plans for today?" he asks later as he sets the plates for Steve and himself. He pours them both more coffee, remembering to add milk to Steve's. He smiles at him thankfully. 

"Not really," he shrugs. It looks like he's trying to find the right words without incriminating himself too much, so Eddie patiently waits for his next words. "All I've been doing lately is walking around the dog park, so..." he trails off.

He's implying that it's all been dog-Steve lately, human-Steve making no plans to hang out with his friends or go on dates. Eddie feels like it's his mission to change that. For whatever reason. 

"We could start preparing for the end-of-summer party," he offers. "Make a grocery list and shit and go shopping."

"It's almost a month from now," Steve points out.

"Good, plenty of time for planning."

Steve just stares at him over the rim of his mug. 

"Robin was going to help me," he says in the last-ditch attempt at being difficult. 

Eddie raises his palms.

"And I'm not stepping on her toes, but you gotta spread your friend circle a bit, man. The more the merrier."

Steve sips on his coffee, thinking about Eddie's offer. Eventually, he nods. 

"Okay. Do you have something to write on?"

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[s2pdoktopus]

He was just asking Archer to cover for their cook, Gil!

Based on this

Lol

[pushing500]

Another mechlink. Now, we need to decide whether to use it for a third identical Jones Mechanitor or give it to Ivy or Alistair... It's a tough choice.

We'll leave it alone for now and come back if we think we need it.

Arwell sent us WHAT??

I knew that Smutty Fanfic mod would amuse me one day!!

Speaking of the child in the house...

It's her birthday! She's reached double digits!!

She's going to be smart like her uncles, and Henry the fleshwhip has helped her gain an interest in melee (with some help from Jut). She's also going to be our resident artist, I think. She is nearsighted, which will help with melee combat apparently, but will make her a pretty rubbish shot.

It also means she needs a new haircut!

Okay but tween Ivy with the lil' glasses is so cute I think I'm going to cry just LOOK AT HER

This birthday has distracted me from getting the Jones boys knighted. Next time for sure!!

First | Next | Previous

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I bring a sort of "flawed female characters can be fun and enjoyable blorbos - both flawed in terms of having character flaws and in terms of having occasionally flawed writing" that it appears many, many, many people do not like

[o1iveangel]

i think john saying “yes!! you did it!! way to go!” to me once would legitimately fix me, like my anxety would instantly be cured, all my problems would be solved, and i would suddenly snap into being a well adjusted member of society. sadly john is a podcast character, so i settle for the next best thing of taking him with me in my earphones every time i venture outside the comfort of my house

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

Concerning your last poll (craziest names they’ve called each other) I’m begging could you maybe pretty please compile a list of the sources

hii lovely 💗 yes of course! here you go 🥰

“yoko” - at the end of the ep version of aviation

“the little diamond” - miles talking about alex’s new quiff

“you naughty turtle” - paradiso, amsterdam 2016

“baby” - multiple times

“you scampi fry” - the guardian

“the wirral squirrel/wirral riddler” - alex on absolute radio 2011, at around 10:50

“shavambacu” - is this what you wanted cover at rockwave athens 2016, at around 4:01

“the kane train” - lowlands festival 2016

“the boy” - not sure which interview this is from, but i think it's 2016

“my miles” - my rock interview 2016

“my alex” - live performance, 2011

“darling” - el país interview 2016

[vaguely-concerned]

I don't know what I love more, the fact that as rook you can make a statement in NO uncertain terms that you are NOT responsible one way or the other for the theological implications of the shit you're discovering in the 'regrets of the dread wolf' memories. not my jurisdiction. quite simply none of my business. not my chantry circus not my chantry monkeys. irrelevant to the matter at hand here we'll kill that god if we get to him he can get in line. or if the best thing about it is seeing the lone little 'lucanis approves' that pops up right after choosing it. corvid with a knife about to commit deicide keeping it real and sensibly, pragmatically, wilfully agnostic with me here in this magical lighthouse today

[sam-sam75]

PROGRESS UPDATE ON CHAPTER 5: I have not been writing it 💀 Every time I try, I end up writing scenes that belong in future chapters 😭 I promise I am still working on the fic, it's just that I'm working on the wrong parts of it oops.

Also I MAY end up being pretty busy for most of July... I've got some Life Stuff to do, which if I'm being so fr I'm WORRIED ABOUT HAHA.

Anyway I know I said the next chapter would come out sooner than last time, but those odds aren't looking great if I'm being honest. So yeah, I guess this post is just to say "yes I am still working on the fic, but no it will not be updating soon."

Oh and btw we can now add "Dentist Office" to the list of "Weirdest Places Sam Has Written Fanfic"

[mxflowercheck]

So did you ever think about Mycroft giving Lestrade the shovel talk about Sherlock, when they started working together?

Just imagine, you found some eccentric man, who's clearly a genius and he solved your very cold case. But he is also a) absolutely insufferable b) refuses to be a policeman or a private detective ("consulting detective", he says!) c) has zero concerns about social norm and politeness

You go home, tired, confused, a tad mad, hoping for a quiet evening. Suddenly you notice how whenever you pass a phone it rings.

Your phone rings.

You get in the car, your hand close to the gun you still have, no answers, just endless list of questions once again.

You end up in front of a polite-looking man, he's suit is brand-new, his hair is neatly combed, his umbrella is more for decoration - he's nothing like a tired you in your old jacket, jeans that still have stains from today's messy chase.

The man all but scans you, smiles (sincere, but sly - oh, you know that look), offers you a sit. And a pain medication for your head. And talks about the case you (Sherlock) solved today.

He looks you in the eyes and is so very polite, but you feel like that's a snake in front of you.

"I heard that Sherlock Holmes helped you today. And a couple of other days."

Oh God, that's gonna go really well or really, really bad and perhaps bloody.