#Ew my writing!

[hofudlaus]

also posting these two on their own :-) based on This post by @outpastthemoat

[mediumgayitalian]

When Lee and Michael pull him from Chiron's exceptionally dry Ancient Greek lessons, Will is excited. When they drag him down, ducking, behind the stables, as other campers walk by, he is intrigued. When they guide him all the way back to their cabin, sit him on his bed, and then drag two stools to sit across from him, silently, he is still excited.

A little nervous, now.

But excited.

"Will," Michael says, solemn. He presses his fist to his mouth, eyes carefully blank. "Will, you are almost ten years old, now."

Will bounces on his mattress, grinning. "Yeah! I'm nine and fifty-six seventy-thirds." He peers at his brothers hopefully, trying to lessen his fidgeting and appear Regal and Adult. "Am I getting my Dad present early?"

Gods, he hopes so. He has been counting down the days -- every tenth birthday, for every kid, Camp-bound or not, Apollo sends them a gift of gold jewelry, smelted in the heat of the Sun by Holy Hephaestus, jewels handcrafted by the finest artisans on Olympus, blessed by yours truly. Will has been watching in seething jealousy as Michael's signet ring glints every time he pulls back his bow, as Cass' hoops swing when she walks. He hopes the gift is earrings -- he finally convinced Michael to pierce his lobes a couple months ago, and he's tired of the ugly studs. Beckendorf made him promise to let him poke around at whatever Will gets, and Will has been itching to show him.

And to get the jewelry, obviously. That's priority number one.

Lee shakes his head slowly. "No. You will get your milestone when you get it." He exchanges a long, fearful look with Michael. Will picks at last summer's clay bead, with the trident on it. "Speaking of milestones…"

Michael makes a sudden, choked noise, covering his face with his hands and curling forward. Will startles. Lee sighs, looking down for a moment as well. When he looks up again, he meets Will's wide eyes with his teary ones, and places a supportive hand on Michael's back.

"Will…" he looks out to the open window, shaking his head slightly. When he looks back, his face is creased in apology, and his eyes are ringed with pity. Will feels his heart drop. "Have you chosen someone, yet?"

"Chosen?" Will straightens, fists twisting in his shorts. "Chosen someone for what?" Michael makes another strangled wailing noise. Will's breath hitches, and his ears white out. "Lee, tell me! Tell me now!"

"We are a Greek camp," Lee says, finally. "An ancient Greek camp. With ancient Greek customs, kiddo."

He says it softly, apologetically. Like the time a seagull swooped down and stole Will's ice cream, right from his hands, on the beach last week. Will recognizes the hopeless tone of his voice and his heart drops.

"How much did they tell you about…our customs?"

"I didn't listen to the admissions video!" Will confesses, panicked. "I'm sorry! It was so boring! There were a bajillion music numbers and they were all kind of bad no offense and the screen made my eyes hurt and I missed my mom and --"

"Will," Michael says, voice shaking. He meets Will's eyes and Will is horrified to see they are wet.

He has never seen Michael cry before -- not even once.

"It's okay, Will. Some people don't know."

"Tell me," Will begs. "Am I being sacrificed?"

To his great relief, both his brothers laugh, waving dismissive hands as they chuckle. Will sags into his pillows.

"Oh, no, gods no. That would be barbaric." Lee wipes a tear from his eyes. "C'mon, Will, we're a little more civilized than that." He smiles encouragingly. Will smiles, hesitantly, back. "You're getting married."

It takes a long enough moment for the sound to travel and the word to register that Will is sure his hearing aids have gone wonky. He taps them, as though it will do anything, and tilts his head.

"I didn't hear you right. What did you say?"

"Married," Michael repeats. "By age 10, like all people had to do back then." He and Lee exchange another weighted look. "That, or you have to marry Mr. D." He rushes to assure at Will's panicked shriek; "Only if you don't choose someone in time. You have until you turn ten, so don't worry. I'm sure you'll find someone in time. You'll have most of the summer, anyway."

There is a moment where Lee and Michael murmur to each other, nodding. "Yeah," Lee says, mostly to himself. "You'll be fine." To which Michael responds: "Of course, of course. I mean, we did it."

Will sits there, frozen.

"I can't get married!" he cries, coming back to himself. He begins to hyperventilate. "I'm -- nine! I'm a kid!" He looks to his older brothers, blue eyes big and watery. "I don't even know how to file my taxes yet!"

Lee and Michael are sympathetic. They move forward, immediately, one on either side of him; Lee slides a squeezing hand around his shoulders, Michael pats him on the leg.

"It'll be fine, squirt," Lee soothes. He gestures across them. "I mean, me and Michael found somebody. It all worked out."

"You're married?" Will chokes out. His breaths come quick and shallow, despite Lee's comforting hand. "Michael is married?!"

"Watch it, twerp," Michael warns, at the same time as Lee says: "It was a challenge and a half, but yeah, Michael is married."

Will glances quickly down. There is no ring on either of their left hands, but they must notice him looking, because Michael snorts, pinching him on the knee.

"We just told you it's an ancient Greek custom, dumbass. Rings were invented later. We just…" He makes an incomprehensible gesture with his ringless hand. "Followed the book, completed the rite, etc, etc. Boom. Matrimony."

Lee nods. He rubs Will's shoulder a final time, encouragingly, before pulling away enough to give him space to breathe.

"You'll find someone, Will. We just thought we'd warn you because it didn't look like you remembered yourself, and we don't want you to have to…well."

Will shudders. Vaguely, in the back of his blurry, blurry memory, he can recall someone saying something in a video somewhere about partners and their importance in Camp. He had not paid attention, and he curses himself for it, now -- he almost had to marry Mr. D. Mr. D. who is rude, who smells like vinegar, who always has something in his teeth, who sleeps all day and drools more than a waterfall, who scares the satyrs on purpose and never even says sorry. Who is mean and gross and the worst ever.

"Thank you," Will says, tearfully. He grips his brothers' hands in his small fists and shakes from his spot between them, almost-life flashing in front of his eyes. If his brothers hadn't warned him, Mr. D. would have made him rub his stinking feet and feed him grapes for all eternity for sure. There wouldn't even be breaks for episodes of Star Trek. He shudders. "Thank you."

His brothers return the half-hug, although Michal sighs about it. He is too short to see the smirks they flash above his head.

"Anytime, twerp."

-- -- --

next

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

that just confirmed what i already knew which is that i never ever ever want to see them kiss like even that was way too much for me i kept saying “ew” and covering the screen. girl back tf up. their faces should never be that close together on god’s internet.

[willowser]

"i ain't takin' a fuckin' bath."

katsuki's half-undressed, standing in the kitchen with the fridge doors wide open; shirtless, shoulders broad and muscles round and taut, cool air raising goosebumps across his exposed skin. his un-buttoned tac pants are dangerously low on his hips, so low that you wonder—while staring at the dimples of his back—if he's doing it on purpose.

the dewy sheen of sweat he'd come home with has gone matte, leaving him in a thin, sticky, grimy layer that is grimace-inducing to feel. like most nights, dirt and soot and even blood—grown dark and less worrisome with time—color him haphazardly, strewn across his body; a mosaic of dynamight, made by his own hands.

"but you stink," you fail to suppress a smile when he snaps his head around, to fix you with an ugly look that you return. he manages to hide his own amusement in the bulge of his bicep. "i'm serious! a bath will help you relax!"

turning back to the open fridge, he grumbles, "i am relaxed," in a tone that doesn't sound relaxed. at all.

"come on," you urge, shuffling up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist despite all his dried grease and muck. "you go first and i'll be there in a minute."

that catches his attention enough that he finally closes the doors, facing you as he runs a lazy hand over his stomach. to his credit, he does look a bit more relaxed than he had when he'd come through the door—but the set of his jaw is still too stern, brow only ever furrowed, a little more argumentative than usual, even if it's harmless.

katsuki seems to consider your unspoken proposition, before finally surrendering with a roll of his eyes. "fine, but i'm takin' a shower like a grown ass man."

"no!" you groan, latching onto his arm when he moves to step around you. you try to dig your heels into the ground, but you're in the kitchen in socks, and katsuki only yanks you after him with a wicked grin. "bath! a bath will help you relax, i mean it! i've got lavender oils!"

"i ain't using' your frilly shit!"

he finally slips from you when you sputter out a laugh, tugging free from your grip before throwing you a look that is hot in more ways than one. innocent as you aimed to be, something tightens in your stomach; awakened at the sight of him.

you warn, "i'm only coming if you're in the bath!" and his loud, exaggerated groan echoes nearly throughout your entire house, swallowing up your chirpy laugh.

—but, much to your surprise, he listens.

you let him soak for a good five minutes before following after, and when you find him, he's got his head leaned back over the edge, elbows resting on either side of the tub, legs bent and knees sticking up out of the water. handsome as ever, you think, a little dreamy, before the marble of him shifts at your arrival.

he only opens one eye, and you can see already the tension has drained from his face; half-asleep, a little bloodshot and breathing too even to convince you otherwise.

"well, well, well," you murmur, lowering to the floor on your knees after his eye slips shut again. "look at you, princess."

katsuki makes a haughty noise of irritation, but doesn't bite back: a dead giveaway of his exhaustion. instead his hand finds the material of your shirt, tugging on it lightly before he slurs out, "get y'r ass in the tub."

you'd bite his fingers if they weren't still disgusting, but you place a teeny kiss on the cleanest spot you can see on his wrist. "i don't need a bath, but thanks."

"hah?" he grunts, eye shooting open again as he frowns at you. when you only smile coyly at him, he raises his head and glares at you properly. "y'dirty liar, you said—"

"i said i'd be right behind you," you grin. "not that i'd be getting in."

the water sloshes up against the sides as he straightens his posture, baring his teeth at you as he prepares, you think, to lunge out and haul you in with him despite a screaming protest—but you reach forward just before he can, dipping a hand down into the warmth right between his thighs.

katsuki jumps, seriously, leg kicking out so hard that his heel slams into the edge of the tub, when you gently hold him where he's soft. "jesus!" he all but yelps, eyes going a little wide as he realizes what you've done. what you've made of him.

he's still—marble-still—air sucking in sharply between his parted, frozen lips as you touch him, and heat pools so obviously, so suddenly, in his cheeks, sweet enough that you want to bite into the apples of them. in your hand he swells thick, quickly, a little slippery from the soap he's already added to the water.

all his tension returns, as a different strain; katsuki swallows, hard, as his eyes dart back and forth between your own and where your hand disappears into the water; when you gently rub your thumb back and forth across the tip of him, his back straightens, even moreso, and, you don't think he knows it, but his legs part even further.

an invitation if you'd ever seen one.

he finally comes back to life when you lean in close enough to nudge your nose to his, just to see him blink.

he's so cute, you want to eat him alive.

"the f-fuck are y'doin'?" he whispers, eyes dropping back down as you stroke him lightly, just enough to coil him tighter. at the end of the tub, water sloshes quietly from the movement, and katsuki's ears burn.

you've caught him entirely off guard, and if it wasn't clear before, it becomes crystalline when you kiss him, deeply. he's lazy to reciprocate, breathing softly, open-mouthed, as you press a soft kiss to his top lip and then to his bottom, whispering his name back to him just to hear his sharp inhale.

you time a clever stroke of your wrist with the firm press of your mouth to his, insistent and fast, urging the wildness of him to catch up, to come out. it hits him all at once—your desire, his own, the heat of it all—and his hand shoots out of the water to grip the back of your neck, a deep groan slipping from his chest as his cock kicks in your hand.

you try more than once to pull back from him with a sneaky little laugh, but his fingers tangle in your hair and he kisses your teeth and you think, maybe, you're not teasing him enough. his knees knock lightly against the ceramic as he tries to spread them, even further, and his hips shift up with every slick pump of your fist, urgent and eager.

he speaks, furiously, against your lips, when you snatch your hand away, instead teasing your fingers along the inside of his thigh. "get—in th'fuckin' tub." his shoulders tremble, ever so slightly. "i ain't askin' again."

you laugh against him and his nostrils flare. "you didn't ask at all!"

"so quit your bullshit already."

you lick his bottom lip, nipping at the fat of it gently before weaving your own hand into his damp hair. "no," you tease, like a brat, but when you tug enough at the strands, he gets the hint and allows you to pull away. "i'm trying to help you relax, you know?"

katsuki doesn't respond at first, only huffing out a frustrated sound when you wrap your hand around his length again. his face is steaming, despite how firm he's trying to be; your own desire strikes hot when his head tips back just slightly, jaw straining as he grits his teeth.

"no," he finally grunts, eyes dark and pinned to you. "'s'the last thing i feel, is-is relaxed."

"hmm," you make a point to frown and look away, like you're thinking, but katsuki's impatience wins out and he drags you back in for a shuddering kiss. he's fervent, now, nipping at your lip and brushing his tongue against your own eagerly, trying to muffle a painful sound against your cheek. "that's too bad," you tell him—but you don't think he hears you, really, over his low curse and the returning slosh of water against the tub.

but when you ask him again, only a handful of minutes later—his boneless answer is precisely what you were looking for.

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

What did Tori include in that letter, you ask?

[thetownsroyalmuseum]

context: trans reggie

Regulus Black has this deep urge to tell people stuff.

He obviously he couldn’t tell his parents everything because “You never shut up. You should learn to be more ladylike” so he learned to keep his mouth shut around them.

But he would burst into Sirius’ room all the time just to tell him small, meaningless stuff

“I just stubbed my toe, but then Kreture got me strawberries so i dont care anymore”

”what were to happen if you mix a poison with a growing potion?”

”SIRIUS! A butterfly just flew by my window!!”

”look look look! My socks are fuzzy!” (Andy secretly got them for him)

“siriuuuuuuus, my hair hurts”

“I drew something cool!” (Proceeds to show Siri a drawing of the same thing he’s drawn non-stop for a week and has shown sirius every single time) (“woah reggie thats amazing”)

etc. etc. etc.

like he just has a need to externalize all of his thoughts

so when Sirius left for hogwarts, Reg started writing them all down, and that’s how he got into writing.

by the time Sirius came back for Christmas that year, Reg had filled three notebooks full of just meaningless thoughts

obviously then they had a falling out and Reg hid his emotions even more, and he started writing even more

and thats when the whole emo poetry boy thing started

Eventually (around third year) he felt comfortable enough with the Skittles to tell them his thoughts

so randomly throughout the day he would whisper nonsense to them and they’d just smile at him, knowing that (unless he’s exited) theres no need to answer.

if he is exited than you best fucking believe they’re exited with him

but i just think he needs people to know his thoughts and to validate them. Because if not then are they even real? Like obviously they’re real but do they don’t count if it’s just in his head. They don’t actually exist.

and it’s the same thought process as to why he hides his emotions

if people aren't aware of them they don’t exist

i could keep going into deep thought about this urge and how it relates to his character and his relationships but for the point of this post, which was supposed to be cute, i’ll shut up here.

But yea

Regulus Black gives out his thoughts as if they were nick nacks

//This is MY opinion, if you don’t like my characterization of Reg, either scroll by or add something RESPECTFULLY. If you think this fits another character better, or would like to add something please do!!//

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

<3 This is the energy that's missing from so much supervillainy <3

So many villains have no flair and no style these days

Madame Masque doing a terror attack where she hijacks a youtubers shitty pick up artist stream to murder people with solid gold guns all while gossiping about what her ex was like in the sack so she can fight a goo monster and a science cult with the help of a giant evil head?

PEAK VILLAINY

[neon-kazoo]

Villains I dont see very often; mute. Mute villains are the best, nothing can convince me otherwise.

One idea thats been on my mind is a mute villain confessing to the hero, either through sign language, or a perfectly executed scheme. You’re choice :))

Not sure if this counts, but I ran with it. Might try this again after I gather some ASL knowledge. Hope you enjoy :)

A Silent Movie

It wasn’t exactly easy to get Hero sat in front of the cinema screen. In fact, the planning for this trap had taken over sixth months. Not to mention the money it took to buy this building off foreclosure, and the multitude of investments into Hero-proofing the location.

It was even harder to get said hero to stop yelling long enough to pay attention to the image being projected from the back of the room. Not that their sense of hearing was needed for this experience, but Villain imagined Hero would appreciate the lack of noise-based distractions, including sounds they themselves were making.

The theater was notably large, probably the most expensive showing room of its day. That is to say, the upholstery was a little outdated. The popcorn had been swept off the floor, the swirling carpet surprisingly clean. The velvet of the seats did not appear stained, and the cupholders were absent of any discarded snacks or tickets.

The glow of the emergency exit lights were the only thing illuminating the room, and they revealed a dim image of the hero situated in the center of the third row, which was optimal seating in the villain’s opinion.

Clearly, Hero did not agree, considering how hard they were pulling at the restraints to try and exit their carefully selected theater chair.

It was futile, of course, and the hero finally stopped straining when the villain appeared a row below them, quiet as a mouse, standing with a finger pressed to their lips.

Villain retreated when the hero quieted, letting their attention shift to the screen and this special showing. Images flicked past, and Hero became engrossed in the story unfolding on the screen.

Shown was a news reel Hero recognized as the time Villain had crashed their Election Day speech. A zoomed out map of the city, marking City Hall with a red square. Grainy footage of two figures dancing around next to a dumpster. Once again the map appeared, now with two squares pasted on top. The pattern continued, and Hero was amazed.

It was an agglomeration of every moment they had spent together, every public battle, every nighttime-shady-alley encounter.

There was only one reason to collect these momentos, these reminders. It had all meant something to the villain.

The complete lack of kernels on the carpet certainly pointed to a level of dedication and commitment to this scheme.

Maybe, they were hoping it meant something to the hero, too.

Another scene zoomed out a final time, revealing all the markers spread across the city. Only, now, Hero noticed, a rather distinct pattern had formed.

Villain moved like a phantom, appearing again, this time at the hero’s side. The ropes at their wrists fell away like magic while Hero gazed at the awkwardly hovering villain. They presented the hero with a glittering object hung from a chain held loose around their fingers. It was a large ruby gem, expertly cut into the shape of a 3-D heart.

Stolen, no doubt, Hero suspected possibly from the large jewelry exhibition that had just entered town.

The screen flashed bright, and lit up the hero’s face as it contorted in surprise. They processed the scene as fast as they could.

A heart of red markers, a heart of ruby, a heart fluttering in their chest, a heart laid open in front of them.

“Oh,” Hero breathed, “Oh.”

Villain sucked in a breath.

This was it, this was the moment they got rejected because they couldn’t-

“I had no idea.”

Of course they didn’t know, it’s not like Villain had ever spoken about it.

Preparing automatically for the rejection, Villain started to withdraw their hand, cold-as-steel demeanor returning to them with all the familiarity of a security blanket.

It was so stupid of them to think that they deserved any kind of reciprocation, so stupid to think that the hero could possibly-

The hero snatched the charm from their fingers before they fully withdrew.

“I didn’t say no,” they spoke softly, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

They reached out their other hand, wrapping their fingers over the still-outstretched hand of the villain. Instead of elaborating, Hero pulled the frozen criminal closer, connecting their lips in a gentle proclamation.

Actions spoke louder than words anyway.

[drurrito]

Idk what would be a good title….

summary: you get a haircut

Pairings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: idk reader has short hair now I guess

————

You feel the breeze on your neck as you walk through the compound’s entrance. You only make it a few steps inside when someone steps out in front of you.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“Haha—very funny,” you roll your eyes and Bucky flashes a big, bright smile.

“You finally did it,” his smile doesn’t break, “it looks so good!”

“Thank you! I’d hope so,” you run a hand through your new hair and let Bucky do the same.

“How does it feel?” Steve walks up, Bucky is too busy ruffling your hair to pay him any mind.

“Like I’m going to save a lot on hair products,” you grin.

“No one can grab your hair in the field anymore,” Bucky adds, falling in step with you as you walk towards the common area. Tony skids to a halt when he sees you.

“Looks like my Barber did a good job,” Tony sounds so smug, but you can’t blame him.

“Definitely,” you palm the back of your neck, reveling in the way your tapered neckline feels under your skin. You’re too enamored with your new hair to notice Natasha walking in.

“What’s all this?” Natasha asks only seconds before she realizes. The boys part for her and she’s only inches away from you.

“You look really good,” she says lowly, sincerely too.

“Thank you,” your jaw couldn’t be any more stiff.

She reaches out a cautious hand, waiting for your approval. You try to nod as casually as possible and she runs her fingers through it.

“Soft,” she mumbles, you count your breaths as she scratches your scalp. You have to stifle a shiver as her nails tickle the skin right behind your ears. Natasha steps back and your nerves have to bungee jump back into equilibrium.

Natasha leaves, only giving a curt nod to the boys before she reaches the doorway. She gives you a parting glance, her eyes traveling from the penthouse to the basement in her view of you.

It’s only when you can’t hear her footsteps anymore that your lungs finally fill with air again. Bucky gives you a nudge to reel you back into reality.

“I should cut my hair more often.”

[sarcosmiiic]

no cause i think one of the reasons any life series ship with grian is automatically so ironically stingingly tragic is that it's /his game/.

like putting aside the watchers for a second, grian created the life series. this is /his/ death game, his circus his monkeys. sure, when the person closest to him inevitably dies some gruesome death at his own hands, the pain in his chest still makes him want to jump off a cliff, run face first into a warden, fall a couple hundred blocks and splat, but...

it's still. /his game/.

when other players lose their teammate, it's tragic for them because their friend got ripped from them in an instant and there's nothing they can do. when grian loses someone close to him, it's all /his fault./ he made this game, he wrote the code, he said "if this then that if player gets ripped to shreds in a cactus pit, falls off a bridge in the sky, blows up in our own tower, then they die".

he just. never thinks he's gonna be the one to do it.

he knows it's just a game, he knows he can just hop back on hermitcraft and see his friends alive and well and not shredded splatted blown to pieces.

he just.

his game. his friends. his hands.

gets him every time.

[just-call-mefr1es]

have tbp art before i go to sleep😴😴 usual warning for blood n stuff

[givemedamage]

ultimately!

[bloodystrat]

Dead boy is so horny right now.

[spikershoyo]

and if i wrote a carcar fic where oscar is hungry for flesh and bone and carlos, the selfless boyfriend he is, cuts his arm off. what then.

[littlefankingdom]

THEY KILLED MY BOY?! THEY KILLED HIM WITHOUT HAVING ADDRESSED HOW MISS "I WANT TO BE NORMAL AND NOT TREATED LIKE A WEIRDO" WAS TREATING HIM EXACTLY HOW SHE DIDN'T WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE?! WITHOUT ADDRESSING HOW THEY WERE ALL FINE TREATING HIM LIKE SHIT FOR BEING A DEMON AND NOT HUMAN, EVEN THO HE WAS NICE?! ok, cool, great.

[mrmeepsmadmind]

thunderhowl doesn't even like to lick mechs (he'll sometimes lick rocks or random objects to help decipher what it is if his smells can't help with its history) because he likes to keep up his elegant knightly air but. also. he likes seeing that seemingly impenetrable wall of soundwave's superiority complex Crack a little with the impudence of Utter Disgust