#Fierce 2

[fierce-sims]

I was supposed to post this yesterday but I got busy

[dezimaton]

an animal on a leash, but an animal nevertheless

[suburbanoni]

MOTHER Enemies

[charrior-of-ash]

Portraits of [EVIL] guildies - because I'm gonna see them in a few days and am EXCITED <3 <3 <3 Jenny Drakespirit @battlewhiskers Rengyr Sylvr @rengyr Skarr Blacksnow @kianga-snowstorm Keeya Snowtail @keeyasnowtail

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.

content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.

warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.

notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?

i'll eat them. omnom

LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.

When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.

(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)

(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)

It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.

Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.

He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.

Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).

What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.

When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.

(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)

(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)

A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.

He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.

During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.

The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.

He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.

The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.

You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.

You'd already given him a large snack earlier.

The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.

He takes a bite of it gratefully.

"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."

You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.

"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.

"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"

Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.

He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.

He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.

Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.

You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)

Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.

He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.

Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.

ARAM is often humbled in your abode.

He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.

He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).

Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.

He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.

Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.

("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."

(You never had the heart to ask again.)

He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.

His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.

It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.

It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.

When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.

He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.

He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.

Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.

The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.

He craves more.

The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.

Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.

He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.

You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.

He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.

You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.

"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"

He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.

He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.

(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)

(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)

Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.

You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."

"Did I look ill before?"

You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.

The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.

"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."

And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.

He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."

[wilsons-journey]

Artoria Dragonbane

Mystic Coin Commission for @bidilfs

[dirtytransmasc]

Idk why but i have this hc that when Spider was younger, he disappeared for a couple days to see if anyone noticed, and nobody did. Like, the scientists assumed he was with the Sullies and the Sullies thought he was with the scientists. So after that he tried it a couple more times, and still nobody really noticed. he got into the habit of disappearing into the forest for days. With that being said, he tries it with whoever adopted him and they flip out. Sorry this is long lol.

gods he would.

he would wait, wait for someoone to be worried, each time he would disappear he would stay out in the woods longer, praying to Eywa, his Mother, that someone would notice, someone would come looking.

everytime he would go back starving, dirty, and dehydrated; he'd chug water till he felt sick and then sleep for hours, and still no one worried.

eventually he pushed himself to far, and it took hours to find the kid, passed out in a shivering ball, no one had seen him in days, and by the time he did he was on his last of his spare battery. instead of being doted on, he was scoffed at and lectured on running away and being safe in the woods. he never told anyone why he did it, never told them he just wanted to see if anyone cared.

after that he only stays out there for a day at a time, normally sneaking to either one of his 'homes' in the cover of night. no one asks questions, no one even notices, or if they do, no one says anything.

so when he starts doing it around Quaritch, never being able to wander far, but avoiding him on the ship to see if he would notice, sending the man into a panic each and every time. Quaritch will pretend not to care, but after the boy dodges him for hours, letting the man believe he was lost, he can't help but let it show a little. it's worse when spider does it in the field, cause again, he can't wander far, but he's good at hiding, and he'll put Quaritch and the team on their heads, making them nervous as all hell that something bad happened to him.

when he does it to ronal and tonowari, he gets to very aggressive love and affection and a shit ton of worry. they both go out searching for him, his siblings too, searching day and night till they find him (it doesn't take long, but it feels like an eternity to them). when they find him, it feels like they've always got a hand on him, he can't break away from any alone time, and he can't pretend like they don't care. they hold him like he's going to vanish, they beg him not to run off like that again, they shower him with love and affection.

when ronal asks him why he doesn't really have an answer. he knows why he used to do it, but is that still why he does it? he can barely mutter his answer when he finally gives into his prodding.

"used to run off... see if people... if they would notice"

"notice?"

"notice if I ran off... if I disappeared"

"oh my child"

she would hold him for hours if she could, she would never put him down for the rest of her life if it meant her son would never have to run away just to know people cared.

[kheprriverse]

"Guh--"

I almost didn't give y'all this one but decided that'd be mean of me. Especially since this took me nearly 4 days to finish.

-> Part 2

[fierce-sims]

Save me tutorial Joe and Jane… save me…

[tsilvy]

you know what kills me? what kills me is crowley telling jim/gabriel about the execution, with the specific purpose of showing exactly how pissed off he is, how convincingly scary he can be, with his growl, with his righteous anger, AND for this purpose he takes off his glasses, but when he takes off his glasses he looks like this

like, he's at peak devastation, he looks terrified and traumatized and he's just taken off his glasses for gabriel to SEE. and every single time i'm like baby put those glasses back on right this moment, that's NOT something you want him to see

[maripr]

Daniil Dankovsky, the bitchelor, the prickly prick etc, going to the Inquisitor while expecting fully to be put to death (and having drank himself into oblivion the night before just because of terrified he was), and not only takes full responsibility for the failure to stop the plague, but also defends both Artemy and Clara in spite of the three of them not seeing eye to eye. I love him.

[gh0st-eaterr]

it’s always the short best friend that’s the scary one

[zeldaseyebrows]

Some ancient princess and hero designs based on the botw tapestry 

(In that pose from botw because I apparently like pain)

[theagenes]

House of the Dragons — The Green Brothers

[lostinwildflowers]

YO (idk if I can do two together like this but) number 17 from the gestures prompt matches SO WELL with the first line from the dialogue list ("Hold on, let me fix this for you." ) LIKE OMG. IMAGINE THAT WITH HAWKS. IM DEAD ALREADY.

Smudged

Keigo "Hawks" Takami x Reader

Summary: A dressed up night is unusual for you and Hawks, yet all you want to do is go home and relax together.

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Suggestive themes but nothing NSFW, Hawks being a flirty shit, fluff<3

A/N: Just for my special Nem Nem! I've actually been on an MHA kick so this works in my favor. Enjoy some ~shmexy~ Hawks! -Birch<3

Prompts used:

1. "Hold on, let me fix this for you."

17. Standing still as your lover rubs smudged lipstick/lipstick stains off of your skin, catching them off guard by pressing a kiss against their fingertip.

Waiters and waitresses rushed by your table, platters of fine wines and cheese charcuterie boards bustling past. For one of the fanciest and highest-rated restaurants in Japan, you somehow felt uncomfortable.

Your husband, Keigo, sat across from you at your premier seating arrangement. Your view was gorgeous, you couldn't deny it.

It was a red brick rooftop overlooking the city below, with the sun setting across the skyscrapers, painting them in soft shades of lavender and baby blue just as the sun was sinking.

The city below you was alive, it was Friday night after all. Horns honked on the roadways below, everyone rushing around to meet up with friends or get home to watch the newest episode of their favorite show.

The best view was the one sitting across from you- Keigo. Leaning back in his chair, he seemed completely unbothered by the looks the two of you were getting.

It wasn't hard to see why he was the best sight around. His blonde curls were soft and smoothed out of his face, just a stray curl falling out of place to lay on his forehead.

His hair was longer than usual, but you didn't seem to mind. You preferred to run your fingers through the feathery pieces when they were longer, as it gave you a way to draw him close to you.

Keigo's skin was clear and ever so slightly dewy from the heat of the night, the bastard. Paired with his golden gaze and dark, thick lashes, he was glowing.

The part that seemed to have you bewitched was the white button-down covering his torso. It was a plain, white dress shirt, yes, but Keigo made it look like it should have been on a runway.

The sleeves were rolled up neatly to his elbows, showing off his strong and thick forearms. To fancy up his outfit, he even wore his newest watch, the silver glinting with the rays of the sun.

As if that wasn't enough, a few bands of silver covered his fingers, the rings enhancing the length and thickness of the digits, which you had to keep steering your mind away from.

Keigo seemed to be on a roll trying to distract you because in addition to his arms and hands looking inviting, the top two buttons were undone around his collar. His defined clavicle poked through, the necklace with your initial hanging around his neck making your heart flutter every time you looked at it.

To top it all off, well-fitting black slacks and dress shoes pulled the whole look together. And he had the audacity to sit across from you and not even realize he was a heaven-sent angel.

"Hey love," his voice rips you out of your trance, "I'm thinking I either want the grilled chicken salad or the pork shogayaki. What do you think?"

His eyes flash up to meet yours innocently, his golden gaze genuine as he gauged your reaction. He gets distracted looking at you though.

There you are, looking shy and uncomfortable, yet breathtakingly beautiful. Your hair was pinned up on your head, leaving your neck accessible to the air to stay cool.

Small bits and pieces of jewelry donned your ears, wrists, and neck, but nothing too flashy. Even though Keigo promised to take you to the fanciest place in Japan, you didn't feel like standing out.

A black dress was your first choice, the cut tight around your waist but flowed out around your hips, the fabric perfect for getting twirled around the dance floor.

Keigo's favorite part about your look? The deep burgundy lipstick that glimmered almost too much on your lips. They just looked so kissable, so bite-able, that he was completely distracted from ordering.

You look back at your husband, giving him an uncertain smile before mumbling, "Oh, that all sounds lovely, but..." You trail off as another set of waiters hustle by, and you scooch toward Keigo to avoid them.

His hand immediately comes up to rest on the back of your chair, his gaze following the wait staff to ensure none of them touched you by accident.

When the coast is clear and he turns back to you, your face still holds a hint of nervousness. He smiles at you softly and asks, "Spit it out, love."

You close your eyes and huff before picking up his golden gaze and murmuring, "I kind of just want to go home."

Before he can say anything, you wave your hands in front of you and protest, "And it's not because dinner isn't going to be good or I don't enjoy the view, or that I don't appreciate you bringing me to this really fancy-" "Y/n/n," he cuts you off.

He gives you a wide and cheeky grin as he replies, "Doll, I was waiting to see how long it took you to break." Your mouth falls open in shock as you playfully swat at him, but he chuckles and catches your failed attempt.

Instead, he clasps your wrist and hauls you to your feet, walking you around the tables to the edge of the restaurant. His wings poof out behind him, and he releases your hand to step up onto the edge of the roof.

Then, Keigo turns around to face you, well aware of the gazes of everyone around you glued to his spectacle. He grins wickedly before offering you his hand and stating, "My lady?"

You roll your eyes as you take his hand, and just like that, you are whisked off into the sunset. You can't help the laugh that falls from your lips as he wraps his arms around you, the wind tugging at your clothes and hair.

Keigo tries flying as smoothly as he can to get you home comfortably, but he also enjoys the time he can have you wrapped up in his arms without a care in the world.

The second you land on your specialized balcony after your short flight, he sets you down gently, wrapping his arms around your waist. Keigo gazes down at you softly and whispers, "I don't care if we go out to the fanciest place to eat or stay in and order KFC. I just want to see you smile and be happy."

Your hands come up to play with the hair at the base of his neck as you whisper back, "I am happy." He smiles at you gently, leaning in to kiss you before he freezes.

His sharp gaze manages to see a smudge of lipstick at the edge of your bottom lip. Must have bumped something on the flight home.

You pout as he pulls away from you, and it takes everything in him to not lean down and smash his lips against yours at the plushness of your lips. Keigo just chuckles and says, "Hold on baby, let me fix this for you."

Your body stills as one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek gently, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip to clear off the small red stain. Just before he can completely pull his hand away, you ever so slightly lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his finger, painting it red.

You can feel his body pause against yours, and you giggle at the red suddenly dusting Keigo's cheeks. "Good to know I still have that effect on you after all these years," you joke, tightening your grip on his hair.

"Oh love, you have that effect on me every day. And in this dress?" He whistles at the end of his sentence, his gaze flickering up and down to take in your appearance. Keigo's words are flirty, yes, but his eyes are full of love as he leans into you, gently nuzzling your nose against his own.

"Keigo Takami, are you just trying to get in my pants?"

"Y/n Takami, are you always this enchanting?"

"C'mon bird brain, show me how you'd like to clean up this lipstick."

"I can think of a few different positions~"

[hey-its-sybarite]

Um… this is a completely valid world view actually