#I hope you like it anon! :)

[vegetadaily]

"You presume to make me, the prince of the warrior Saiyan race, wear something like this?!"

[libraryofgage]

Please write for 42. Maybe it could be something dealing with Steve overhearing something he shouldn't have,maybe something the kids say, or Eddie says to someone. Whatever it is it makes him feel like shit. He talks to Eddie, or Robin (or both!) about how much he's changed over the past few years and how he didn't end up being the person everyone thought he'd be, but after what hes overheard he's crying because even though he did all he could he feels lonelier than ever.

Anon, I love you

Prompt 42 for this prompt list!

“Who’s laughing now?”

“…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.” 

I didn't use these quotes exactly, but I came close. It still fits them, though lmao

---

"I should be right back," Steve says, throwing open the van door before hopping out. The moment it closes, Eddie blasts the heavy metal he usually can't because of Steve's sensitive ears. Steve snorts with amusement and heads towards the diner, the smell of fried food and grilling beef overwhelming him the moment he opens the door.

Steve heads up to the counter, flashing a charming smile at Paula, a woman who's been working at the diner longer than Steve has been alive. "We got your usual almost ready, sugar," she tells him, returning the smile as she grabs a receipt from the turning rack and leads him over to the register.

It's a Friday night, which means the diner is bursting with teenagers hanging out in groups or trying to have a romantic date. Steve doesn't usually see anyone he feels like greeting when he picks up food, but a quick sweep this time reveals a table where Jonathan, Argyle, Nancy, Mike, and Will are sitting. Their table is close to the bar, but none of them seem to have noticed Steve because of their conversation, which is just fine with him.

If he gets dragged into a conversation, he might take too long and make Eddie worry. And if Eddie worries, he'll come bursting into the diner, and there are too many people in here that still blame him for...well, everything, for that to be safe.

"Your total is gonna be $12.93," Paula says, watching as Steve distractedly pulls a twenty from his wallet.

"Keep the change. I'll be waiting over there," he says, nodding to a bar stool somewhat close to where his friends are sitting. He then slides into said stool, leaning on the counter and trying to ignore how sticky it is.

He's close enough now to hear the tail-end of Argyle saying, "--eems like such a nice dude, though."

Mike snorts at him. "You didn't know Steve when he was dating Nancy," he points out.

Oh. They're...talking about him. Steve gets the feeling he should walk away, but he also feels stuck in the stool.

"He wasn't that bad," Nancy says. Silence follows her words, and Steve can imagine the looks she's getting. "Okay, yeah, he was an asshole."

"He smashed my camera," Jonathan says, and Steve wonders if he's imagining a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Here's the thing: Steve apologized for smashing the camera (though, he feels it was still justified) and got Jonathan a new one. A fancy, new one. But it doesn't sound like Jonathan is going to include that detail, too.

"He's a lot better now, though," Will says, and Steve wants to get him a new set of dice for trying to stick up for him.

He then wants to cry and maybe break something when he hears Jonathan and Mike snort and bark out a short laugh.

Steve feels himself grow tense as Nancy and Jonathan regale Argyle with how shitty he was in high school. He keeps waiting for one of the kids to refute or bring up how he's changed, but Mike only adds to it all while Will stays quiet, probably unwilling to get himself laughed at again (not that Steve blames him, honestly).

None of them actually point out how Steve's changed. They laugh at how much of a douchebag he was in high school, and Jonathan tells Argyle to "watch out for King Steve coming through" now that nothing is trying to kill them again.

And Steve feels sick to his stomach. Has...has he not actually changed? Is he really the same King Steve he was in high school? Is he still that asshole who didn't give a shit about others because he was just trying to survive himself, no matter who it hurt? Is this how everyone sees him?

"All right, sugar. Here's your cheeseburgers," Paula says, placing a bag in front of him and jerking him out of his thoughts. "One without tomato but with extra ketchup, and the other with grilled onions."

Steve blinks and smiles at Paula again. "Thanks. Same time next week?"

He waits to see Paula's amused smile and playfully dismissive wave before grabbing the bag and practically running out of the restaurant. He doesn't know if it's good or bad that nobody at the table seems to have noticed his presence or departure.

Steve jerks the door to the van open, not waiting for Eddie to turn the music down before hopping in and slamming it shut. He silently pulls on his seatbelt, holds the food in his lap, and stares at the glove compartment.

"Uh, you okay, Stevie?" Eddie asks, his hand lingering on the volume dial.

"I don't wanna talk about it here," Steve says. Because he's going to talk about it with Eddie, the only other person he trusts to be honest with him is Robin. But this is date night for him and Eddie, and even when he's drowning in self-doubt, Steve doesn't want anyone else to interrupt their date night.

Thankfully, Eddie just nods. "Okay, sweetheart," he says, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Steve doesn't say a word the whole drive, too consumed by forcing himself to focus on Eddie's hand on his thigh. There's a warmth that he feels through the fabric, grounding him and keeping his brain from spiraling too far.

When they finally park (a secluded area close enough to the local make-out spot to still see the romantic stars in the sky without getting caught by anyone else) Eddie turns to Steve and softly asks, "Wanna move to the back, sweetheart?"

Steve grips the bag in his lap tighter, takes a deep breath, and looks at Eddie. He feels a little bad for ignoring the question, but he can't help his worries and fears bubbling out now that they've stopped driving. "I've changed, right? Since high school?"

Eddie blinks, caught off guard by the sudden question. But then he nods. "Yeah, Stevie, you've definitely changed."

"Jonathan and Nancy were in the diner with Argyle, Mike, and Will," Steve says, trying and failing to seem more nonchalant by unbuckling himself and moving to the couch that barely fits in the back of the van. Eddie follows, sitting closer than necessary to eat the burger Steve hands to him. "They were...talking about me. High school me. King Steve. And Jonathan told Argyle to be wary of me. Do they really think I'm the same person?"

"Stevie-"

Steve doesn't let Eddie get far. He's too wrapped up in what happened, too consumed by self-doubt and guilt and the wish that he'd said something to them. His chest feels tight, he feels like the world is going to cave in on him, and the only thing keeping him steady is the way Eddie puts down his burger and pulls Steve into his lap. "And the worst part is that they were laughing. Will tried saying that I was better now, and they fucking laughed. Like it was ridiculous. Like I could never change.

"And I just....I wish I'd said something. I could have ruined their night so fucking easily, Eds. I could have turned around and asked if they always talked shit behind the backs of people who saved them. I could have asked if Jonathan didn't like the replacement camera I got him, or if he still used it to sneak photos of Nancy."

"Is that why you broke his camera? Fuck, I don't blame you."

Steve manages a slight smile for Eddie. "Thanks. I...I don't know. For all I've changed, it would have been so easy to just turn around and be who they thought I still was. And then I would've torn them down to the size of ants. And...and...I wish I had but I don't but I do, so I could've ended it with who's laughing now?"

Steve's chest feels a little looser, and that's a fucking relief, but then he feels Eddie's hand cradling his cheek. "Well, it's definitely not you, sweetheart. Your crying."

Oh. Eddie is right. He is crying. Steve hastily wipes at the tears before just giving up and leaning into Eddie's touch. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't apologize. I almost wish you had done it. And that I'd been there to see it."

"No, you don’t."

Eddie grins, pulling Steve closer so they're chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. "Yeah, I do. I love when you get bitchy, sweetheart. Especially when it means we can be bitchy together."

Steve blinks, and he can't help laughing. The words were simple, but they still managed to erase all the doubt and some of the hurt. He still probably needs a few days before he can actually look at Jonathan or Nancy or Mike again, but he doesn't feel so immediately devastated.

"Somehow, that was the perfect thing to say," he tells Eddie, closing the distance between them to kiss his lips, getting a hint of ketchup on his tongue.

"Perfect enough to earn me some fun?" Eddie asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Steve sighs dramatically, pretends to think about it as he actually laments that their burgers will get cold, and then pushes Eddie down on the couch.

[ninjagirlstar5]

hiiii could you draw (platonic) purple n green? any situation or anything is fine :3

Keeping in touch with a friend! :]

[little-pup-pip]

Hey I just saw your caregiver Jax from tadc moodboard. It’s so good! Would you be willing to make a caregiver ragatha moodboard? She’s another character from tadc. Thanks either way

Of course!!

[tonberry-yoda]

Smooch series with knuckle from HxH? He is ridiculously underrated 😭

notes - WHOEVER YOU ARE ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH !! Knuckle is my favorite character from hxh and I find no one else who loves him, so we are besties now <3

You always knew that Knuckle was at the door when your dog started barking. She would run to the door and spin in circles, which she would never care to do unless the love of your life was about to knock.

You opened the door before he could even raise his hand to the wood and you smiled.

"Hey." he chuckled as your dog pounced on his legs. He played with her for a moment before sending her back inside and following right after.

The moment he made it to the living room, you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and planted kisses all over his face. He giggled, telling you that it tickled, but you didn't stop.

His hands glided over your waist and sat comfortably on your hips. He caught your lips with his own and you melted into the kiss, pulling him closer.

He smiled, and the two of you were interrupted by your dog nearly knocking the two of you over trying to get up to Knuckle.

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "Your turn."

He sat on the couch and your dog planted kisses all over his face too. You smiled and wondered how you were so lucky.

~~~~~

2024 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[anonymousmink]

(For my Bucky andor Steve trick or treat anon since the ask apparently vanished when I tried to post it 😭)

Uh-oh! Bucky has stolen all the candy and is keeping it for himself, if you want some you’re gonna have to go over there and get it yourself…

Reblogs are loved but please don’t repost! 💚

[sonofthedunes]

heyyy i messaged you a little bit ago asking if you still write like fanfic …. ik it’s been a week or two since i asked but i think i finally thought of a potential fic request. if you feel so inclined, my fic request would be what soft moments with dilf luke would be like. like in between jedi training and love making what would happen? how would dilf luke react to accidentally falling asleep on him/holding hands/soft intimate moments? again if you don’t like the idea/don’t wanna write it that’s totally fine, just thought i’d ask

oh hi anon!! i was wondering if i’d ever hear from you again :p i love your idea—it’s one i’ve explored before, and i do so love some soft and tender dilf luke. let’s see what i can cook up:

Looking back, you realize that it started happening little by little: tiny gestures that could be interpreted as simple human decency. Luke offers you the biggest portions of fish at dinner, but only because you need to keep up your strength; he doesn’t allow you to walk the cliffs alone at first, but only because they’re steep and he knows firsthand how dangerous they can be. Part of you is annoyed—you’re not a child, you’re perfectly capable of minding yourself. The longer this goes on, however…the more frequently he shows that he does have a heart under that gruff exterior…you grow to appreciate it. You welcome it, even.

And eventually, it dawns on you that you might love him. Not just as a master, but as a man—something he’d nearly forgotten in his solitary exile. Perhaps, you dare to hope, he feels the same way.

As it turns out, he’d been pondering the very same about you. Though even after you confess your mutual attraction, it’s difficult for him to overtly express; on some level, it’s humorous that he’ll willingly take you to his bed, but is still hesitant to take your hand. So you initiate. After joint meditation overlooking the restless sea, or while studying an ancient Jedi text, your fingers will search for Luke’s and curl around them. He doesn’t draw away, at least not anymore. Even if he pauses before returning the gesture, he returns it nonetheless. And you might fall asleep on a pillow during the nights you spend with Luke, but you often wake on his chest, his heart beating under your cheek and his breathing a steady rhythm. He hasn’t tried to shove you off or turn away. In fact, his arm is usually slung over your back. And when he blearily blinks his eyes open to see you staring up at him, his lips will quirk into the ghost of a smile…and that means more to you than a million flowery love sonnets or lavish gifts.

The road ahead is long and uncertain. Whether you can persuade him to leave this island with you someday you don’t know. But in the meantime you will learn from him, growing stronger in the Force, and in a way he might be learning from you. Learning how to open his heart, to embrace his human frailties and remember that his true strength is in his compassion. He loves you, and you love him, and the many small ways he shows this prove it.

[softandsleepyboy]

Hi hi ❤️😋 um could you please make an Alice in Wonderland age regression moodboard please? Um thank you I really like your stuff

[galaxywhump]

I still want to put Wren in a box

As you wish! Of course I ended up with more than 100 words, so it's an almost-quadruple drabble.

Set in the Berkeley's Revenge AU.

contents: recapture, muzzle, restraints, trapped in a small space, referenced carved mark and amputation.

~~~

“I could use a break from having to see you, Rackham. Your face pisses me off.”

Wren glares up at Berkeley from inside the huge cardboard box he had been pushed into. As much as he hates to admit it, there’s nothing he can do, muzzled, forced into a curled up position with his wrists cuffed behind his back and his ankles restrained. Berkeley snorts and closes the box, and Wren grimaces as the sound of pulling duct tape fills his ears. He’s never been claustrophobic, but his stomach still sinks when Berkeley seals his new temporary prison with layers upon layers of tape. He’s trapped, and he has no idea how long he’s going to be left here, and he can barely move and the muzzle makes it harder to breathe and-

Calm down. He exhales and closes his eyes. Just stay calm until he opens the box.

He can’t give Berkeley the satisfaction of hearing him protest and struggle, and that thought helps him tune out all the other ones.

He hears Berkeley sit down on a chair with a satisfied sigh, and a moment later he flinches when the top of the box sinks with a creak, as if-

Ah. So he’s being a footstool again. At least this time it’s indirect, and he doesn’t have to feel Berkeley’s boots on his back. It’s the small things.

“At least you make a decent footstool,” Berkeley laughs, and Wren frowns. “Maybe I’ll just make the box into your new home? It’s cozy and I won’t have to look at you too often. Sounds like a plan.”

Wren’s heart skips a beat, but he forces himself to relax. It’s bearable. No matter what Berkeley does to him, he can survive it. He has survived so much already; being stuck in a stupid box is nothing.

It’s just that the box is yet another thing on top of the word carved into his chest, the loss of a finger, the forced haircut, the threats, the constant reminders that he’s going to be killed. He’s going to be okay, he’s going to be saved, he is - but as he’s lying there, in darkness, sick and tired of having to stay strong and only rely on himself, he bitterly wishes that his rescuers would hurry up and find him already.

~~~

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @whatwasmyprevioususername @procrastinatingsab @funky-little-glitter-bomb @goneuntil @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @renkocchi @whump-only @muddy-swamp-bitch @girlwithacoolcat @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @sophierose002 @whump-headspace @to-whump-or-not-to-whump @kixngiggles @ohwhumpydays @whumpsical @wibbly-wobbly-whump @stab-the-son-of-a @his-unspoken-words @pumpkin-spice-whump @onlyhappywhenitpains @suspicious-whumping-egg @morning-star-whump @burtlederp @there-will-always-be-blood @springwhump

[madrabit]

Hello! You are the resident queen of Bo(Jan) so can I please request 22 for them ? :)

Oh god, idk if I deserve that title, but I 100% accept and appreciate it! 🥹 and ofc you can request that! I'm sorry it's taken me so long, tho. I promise I'm still writing the prompts, so everyone who sent me one will get it! And feel free to send me more!

Send me a ship and a number and I'll write you a kiss 🩷✨️

22. ... in a rush of adrenaline

Bojan always liked football.

He loved watching it, even played for a club as a child and was sad when he had to stop. Football made him feel excited. He could loose himself in a game, could feel like a little kid again as the players sprinted over the field, so close to scoring goals. It made him think about his own time playing. He was part of the little league, nothing exciting, just a bunch of under 12 year olds running after a ball, faceplanting the grass more often than they actually managed to kick or score a goal. But for him it had been everything.

The first time he really felt the rush of adrenaline was as he ran towards the goal, no one in his way. He had scored with ease, the goalkeeper not able to hold the ball, even if he hadn't been distracted by some relative calling for him. The cheering of not only his teammates but his parents, his father, made him feel so incredibly proud. The tingling feeling made his heart beat out of his chest, made him feel alive and his pulse was droning in his ears.

Over the years, the way how he got this feeling changed. During the winter of his thirteenth birthday he had taken up snowboarding, changing the kids ski for a snowboard, the rush he got from zooming down the mountain, his own capability the only thing preventing him from crashing was different to the feeling of playing football, but it was good. The following summer his parents had taken him and his sister to the sea and Bojan had finally gotten the chance to try surfing again, this time much more successful than the previous visits.

He had taken up more and more hobbies, his week stuffed with activities until a sudden timeshift in his Judo practice and him, Martin and Matic forming a band had put a stop to his little blooming soccer career. It was hard giving it up, but the thrill of being in stage, hearing the (albeit still rather small) crowd cheer, while he was singing his heart out and his friends were playing until their hands hurt, was the only thing better than chasing after a ball.

He had still sometimes played with his friends, kicking around a ball and when Bojan had randomly found a group of guys playing football on one of Nace's and his morning jogs through their little neighbourhood park in Highgate, he had been excited.

The guys had been quite accepting when he had approached them and it didn't take long for them to meet up semi regularly. Sometimes in the evening, other days just barely past noon. After the first few times, the others had joined in and soon the whole band had spent at least one day a week watching Bojan run after a ball to his hearts content. But not only that, sometimes his friends would join in as well, making him even more excited than just playing with a group of random strangers.

"Bojan!"

His head snapped into the direction of the voice calling his name. Jure was charging at him, followed closely by one of the guys playing on the different team, trying to take the ball away from the blond drummer without using an elbow or tripping him. The man, James, was persistent though, managing to take the ball and leaving Jure behind as he changed directions.

Bojan felt his pulse starting to pick up, blood rushing into his ear as he sprinted after James. It took a bit of work and about all of his skill to get the lead back, immediatelly turning in a sharp twist that almost made him loose his balance. Without hesitation, he made is way to the makeshift goal, dodging one of James's friends, Robert, who caught up with him unfairly easy, clearly having a very noticable height advantage, but Bojan kept the ball, firmly blocking every one of the tall man's attempts at getting it back.

A few more strides and Bojan would be close enough to take a shot, would be able to score and get the last point he and his band needed to win. Instead of a time limit, they had set a point goal, a much more achievable way of playing either multiple games in succession or have a longer, more drawn out match. That the team that lost the most games would be paying for the first few rounds at the pub they frequented after meeting at the park, was making things even more exciting.

Not that Bojan was really interested in that. The feeling alone made him giddy, the thrill of the game made his heart race in his chest in excitement and he could barely contain the sheer energy buzzing through him during.

Everything happened way too quick for Bojan to notice, his movements almost instinctive, muscle memory that he hadn't forgotten even if he hadn't been playing for a good while now.

He dodged another one of James's friends, a broad shouldered, tall man, ducking under the guy's arm to keep his momentum. And before anyone else could try to get in his way again, he took the shot, kicking the ball just right, the angle working perfectly.

Joy rushed through him as the goalkeeper couldn't catch, falling to the ground while the ball flew over him, untouched and unbothered in its path until it dropped to the ground and stopped moving.

Bojan let out a little happy scream, his eyes darting around the field and landing on Jan.

The dark haired guitarist was standing a few meters away, a big grin on his face and suddenly Bojan felt his heart speed up even more, could hear his blood rushing in his ear, his hands shaking. He was moving without realising it, running into Jan's direction.

Jan barely had enough time to react before Bojan jumped him, clinging to him as the shorter man wrapped his arms and legs around the slightly older like a vice. The speed with which Bojan had hit him almost made them topple over, would have made then fall to the ground, sprawled out on the slightly wet grass, but Jan managed to catch him, already prepared after having seen Bojan's excited face. Hands landed on the singer's ass to hold him up securely, even though Jan knew that the strong thighs wrapped around his waist were more than capable of holding him up on their own.

Bojan leaned forward, crashing their lips together in a heated kiss that the taller man very eagerly reciprocated. His lips parted as he felt Jan's tongue dart out, licking over his bottom lip and drawing a soft little moan out of Bojan. The sound got lost in the kiss and as he let a hand wander to Jan's hair, running his fingers through the soft, dark strands and messing up the little bun Jan had made earlier, the taller squeezed his butt.

"I scored", Bojan giggled as he pulled back a tiny bit, before he connected their lips again into another kiss, feeling Jan smile as well.

"You did, yes", Jan said softly, hoisting Bojan up a little more as he felt the smaller man slip a bit. Bojan gasped softly, his blood rushing through his body, heart skipping a beat, adrenaline still making him shake a bit. Even though Jan fondling his ass certainly added a lot. He tightened his legs around the guitarist's waist, pressing himself closer and was just about to deepen the kiss again, as someone called out to them.

"I wanna do another round, so stop eating face and let's play some more", James said, jogging over to get the ball and making his way with it over to then again, kicking the ball before him.

"You just don't want to admit defeat yet", Jure chirped as he snatched the ball from the British man, running away with it in the direction of the goal. James let out a surprised yelp, charging after Jure, who just quickly passed the ball to Nace.

"You better prepare to pay up later!", Kris, who had been lounging at the edge of the makeshift soccer pitch, said, then he got up and dusted off his pants, ready to join in this time.

Slowly, Jan let Bojan slide down, pressing a last little kiss to plush lips. The singer grinned at him, his body already buzzing with energy, ready to cjase after the ball again and Jan couldn't help but give him a little slap on the ass as the he turned to jog away.

Bojan laughed, his steps feeling lighter than before, and he was sure the next visit at the pub would be a rather cheap one.

[softquietsteadylove]

Spicy Addams Family AU? 🔥

The curtains fluttered in the breeze, the air simply too hot to close all the windows. They swayed further into the library and then back towards the sun streaming in, as if gossiping with the rays and the shelves about what they witnessed.

His mouth was hot against hers, tongues dallying in a way she had never imagined tongues could do. She had never seen him quite so demanding, always soft spoken and amiable. He was a true gentleman, and the gentleman had his hand sliding up her leg, heavy skirts of her dress be damned.

Thena turned the page delicately, as if the sound of it would immediately alert her mother to the book of hers Thena had found sitting unguarded. She wasn't allowed to read any of Mother's romances. Something about them not being for her eyes. But she was quite ready to be free of her parents, she thought. And it was just a book.

Gil would tell her to read it.

Her back hit the shelves behind her as they continued in their lasciviousness. He uttered a sound that rumbled from his chest. His hands grew feverish, clawing up her dress until he could grasp her thigh and hoist her higher. His lips, ever demanding, pressed to her neck, following the path of her throat to the neckline of her dress.

Thena sunk further down against her many pillows. Her legs twisted under her plush white duvet. The prose of the book were certainly romantic. Perhaps more...detailed than she would have expected.

He pushed her dress up further and further. The skirts of it pooled up around him until she no longer had an unobstructed view of him. She had half a mind to ask what he was doing, but the half a mind she possessed still became hazy. His mouth pressed to the inside of her thigh, dragging her stockings down and out of his way. She did not know mouths were meant for these sorts of things.

What sorts of things?

His tongue found her first. That clever, gentle and sometimes overly honest tongue he possessed. It touched her in her barest form, sliding around the bends and folds of her. He pressed it firmly to the nerves collected at the peak of her womanhood. She had never felt such sensations before.

Thena shifted in her bed again. She wasn't entirely sure what nerves they were talking about, nor why they were calling it 'her womanhood'. She swallowed but it sounded dry to her ears, her room otherwise deathly silent. Not even Theseus was awake.

Her back arched. She ran her fingers through the thick locks of dark hair upon his head. He kissed her between her legs the same way he had her mouth. Sounds she had never before uttered escaped her. Her cheeks were flushed hot. The rest of her flushed hotter.

Thena indeed found herself pressing her fingertips to her cheeks. Her legs squirmed again. She made a face as she pressed her thighs together, a curious sensation building between them. She could picture the happenings of the book well. The man with his broad shoulders, his dark hair.

It built and built until she was on the precipice of undoing. She tilted her head up, her breasts heaving against her corset. The thick collection of her brown hair-

No, no that wasn't right. Thena squeezed her eyes shut, her legs rubbing like a cricket's. That wasn't what was in her head. She dug her shoulders into her pillow. She lost where she was on the page, hunting to continue.

His manhood-

Again with the obscurities. She at least knew the word for it.

His manhood throbbed in the open air. She had little time to examine it in its glory before he was bringing her hips closer, to the very edge of the ladder until they could be joined.

They had moved to the ladder in the bit she missed. Oh well.

She allowed him to enter her, filling her in ways she had never imagined. Her whole body folded around him, pulsing with the beating of her heart. He was thick, and he began moving immediately.

Thena pressed her lips together. Her hips swivelled and she slipped a hand under the covers. She too had to inch up the hem of her nightdress until she could find her own skin. There was a dampness between her thighs that was most certainly not her monthly.

He moved gently at first, rocking like waves against the shore. This was the act of love making. The physical profession of love, she thought. Two bodies entangled in the most intimate sense of the word. She slid her arm across his wide shoulders and tugged at the hair at the back of his head. Lovemaking was all well and good, but she wanted more.

She had heard fucking was also the physical act of love.

Thena breathed heavier as she read. Lovemaking in the poetic language became detailed, bordering on graphic. The man grew more energetic, words like 'pounding' and 'rutting' jumping out at her from the page. Her fingers, now coated in the wetness between her legs, ventured further.

Her jaw dropped faintly as she pushed where she had not pushed before. Perhaps this was the collection of nerves of which they spoke. She touched it lightly at first, before realising certain angles were too much. She changed approach, rubbing it downward from above.

She let out a faint moan, still far too loud for her echously large room lit only by her lamp. She pressed her head into her pillow, no longer concerned with what was happening on the page.

They were in the middle of fucking, as it were. The man was 'pounding' into her, his 'thickness' moving in and out of her at such speeds. Hips were rolling, bodies were writhing, it was all quite a lot.

"Gil."

She didn't mean to say it. It just...slipped out. Her mind was moving faster than before, but she also wasn't thinking clearly. Her fingers moved faster, trying to bring about something. Her head rolled to the side.

She could imagine Gil as the book's beloved hero. He was tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair. He was kind, and had a sweet nature to him, but not without his own sense of mischief.

Gil had soft looking lips. He had a wide back and thick arms. He was warm, and he always smelled nice whenever they were in close proximity. His hand would hold hers gently as they went up or down the stairs.

She could imagine Gil's lips on her neck, like in the book. She could practically feel his hands on her skin, his sturdy but gentle grip holding her as he grasped her thighs.

"Gil," she whimpered, tracing around those nerves again. There was more wetness, now. Her hands did grow feverish (the book was right).

He would kiss her like that. She would know what it felt like for his incoming moustache to scratch her skin. Perhaps he would kiss her between her legs, like in this library scene. Would they make love? Or would they fuck?

"Yes," she gasped, eyes sealed shut and hand moving faster. He would whisper sweetly to her, call her pretty like he did that day it was raining.

Something was coming. She tried to bring it forth. She picked up speed, changed angle, went back when she felt it slipping further away. Her breathing became feverish and she felt the flush in her skin spread all over her body.

Thena rolled onto her side, squeezing her thighs around her hand as her insides pulsed rapidly. She dug her nails into her pillow and held her lips together as she made sounds she'd never heard herself make. It felt like a fever, like her muscles had been tense and finally released. It felt like relief.

She rolled onto her back again, practically panting for breath, for which she felt a little foolish. It was just her in here, with her hand and a book. She could understand why mother had forbade her from reading them. Such heretical things they printed!

She picked up the fallen book, eagerly searching for where she had left off. Not that she would be resuming her activity with it, but it was still a story in need of completion.

She nearly yelped as a tapping on her window startled her. The book fell from her grasp as she looked at her balcony. It was Gil's messenger, a corvid named Mandu. She cleared her throat, pulling up the strap of her nightdress and wrapping her shawl around her to greet the bird properly. "Come in."

The creature obliged, flapping from the rail of the balcony to her writing desk, tilting his head.

Thena flushed with guilt. Gil was asking if she'd read the book he had sent her home with from their last visit. And if she hadn't been distracted by her mother's...diversion, she would have finished it by now.

The bird eyed her, surely wanting to return home.

"Sorry," she gave him an apologetic smile before hurriedly scribbling a reply.

She was extra sorry for lying. She wouldn't normally!--not to Gil, at least. But this was a unique circumstance. So just this once, she would tell a small fib. And she would read the book right away! It wouldn't be a fib for long.

She examined the hastily scribbled message.

It's a beautiful story. I can see why you treasure it so. I'll tell you all the parts I loved most when you visit next week.

They never bothered addressing their little messages anymore. It was too formal for a correspondence they engaged in almost daily. She spritzed the paper lightly with the perfume she had been given for her birthday before folding the letter and securing it to Mandu's back.

"Thank you," she smiled at the dark feathered messenger. "Safe travels."

The bird nodded to her, too smart to crow loudly in the dead of night. He took off again, flying into the bright moonlight outside. Thena closed her glass doors with a sigh, feeling as if she'd been caught in the midst of something scandalous.

She looked over at Theseus, still asleep under his heat lamp, much to her relief. No, it was her business alone what she was doing, or reading. That book could wait though. If need be, she would return it to mother the very next morning to avoid suspicion. She could say she left it in the sunroom and feared the cover would fade in the light.

She had to finish Gil's book first. If she finished it, her message would not be a lie anymore. And then she could feel at least a little less guilty about the events of this night.

How she would look him in the eye when she did see him next was another matter entirely.

[foreverinthepagesofhistory]

Colorized and Enhanced photos (the colorization removes some of the clearness) of the Hessian Royal Family from the Hessian State Archives - for the anon who asked 🤍

[seas-of-silver]

So I see ATLA as an option. May I humbly ask:

Zuko stared in wonder at Katara, watching her in her element. "Whoa."

Thank you for your ask! This is my first time writing for ATLA, so I hope you like it!

~/~

Zuko stared in wonder at Katara, watching her in her element. ‘Whoa.’

After arriving at the Western Air Temple, determined to make amends and finally do the right thing… they had rejected him. If he was being totally honest with himself, he hadn’t expected that outcome. He had instead imagined that they’d umm and ahh for a while before begrudgingly yet kindly welcoming him aboard. The cold reception was like being slapped in the face by a penguin seal. And then when he accidentally burned that blind earthbender girl, he just wanted to dig himself a bagermole-sized hole. If that wasn’t enough, the next morning, when he went to visit again after breakfast, the assassin he had hired made an appearance. Zuko tried to stop the assassin from killing the Avatar, but his orders and negotiations failed. Thankfully he, the Avatar and his friends managed to stop the assassin, and only then was he allowed to join their group.

It was awkward at first, but as lunch progressed and jokes were made, things got better. Sokka, the boomerang guy, cracked a few jokes at Zuko’s expense; and after Sokka broke the ice, the Avatar- Aang, as he insisted on being referred as, quickly followed, as did Toph, and most of their companions soon took the Avatar’s lead and warmed to him. The only person who still wanted nothing of him was Katara. She stiffly and quickly ate her food before storming out in a huff. It made lunch a little tense after that, and once he finished helping with cleaning up after the meal, Zuko went for a wander.

When he and Uncle had been lying low here after the banishment, Zuko had little to do while he recovered except for exploring the temple - if anything, it was the one thing Uncle actively encouraged him to do. When Fath- when Firelord Ozai had burned his face, Zuko not only gained a giant scar, but his hearing in his left ear was impacted a little, and it messed with his sense of balance. With the aches and pains and embarrassing stumbles, it took him a few weeks to rest, recover, and acclimatise to his new norm. In that time, he had discovered much of the temple, including a few spots he favoured more than others - one of which was a large cavernous room that gathered water from the earth and cleansed it, before the water was distributed to various locations around the temple. This room, with its gentle watery soundscape, was the place Zuko had found the most relaxing and peaceful, and was a space he returned to frequently during his last visit. But unlike every other time he came to this room, there was someone else in there.

Water curved around the cave in graceful arcs, winding through the air like it was carving paths for rivers and streams. Inrticate patterns were being weaved as Katara, seeming so small at the base of this gigantic moving water sculpture, bent the water with ease. It was hypnotic, meditative, and incredibly breathtaking. He simply stood there, struck dumb with awe. He had fought against her many a time before, yet somehow he had never truly understood the extent of her waterbending prowess. The amount of water currently in the air was something typically controlled by a handful of benders, and here she was, doing it all on her own without breaking a sweat; if anything, she looked incredibly calm. It was as intimidating as it was inspiring.

He remembered that night in Ba Sing Se, in those crystal caves deep below the surface. He remembered being trapped there with Katara, and the heart-to-heart they were having before Aang and Uncle found them. He imagined that if Azula never showed up and the battle never happened, that maybe he and Katara would be friends now, instead of her doggedly giving him the cold shoulder. He recalled the spirit water she offered to heal him with, the water he heavily suspected saved the Avatar from certain death. He had been very touched by that offer. After everything they had gone through - all the fighting and anger and hurt and chaos - after everything he had put her through, she had shown him an unimaginable kindness…

He shook his head. It must’ve been a tactic she was using; why else would she have made such an offer back then? They were enemies! Well, they were at the time, though not anymore, but still! Why did she offer to heal him? Why did she look at him with kindness and warmth, as if she understood his pain? Why was “yes, please” on the tip of his tongue, words that would’ve left his lips if they weren’t interrupted? Why did she look so hurt and betrayed when he (stupidly) joined Azula’s side when he was made to choose sides? It didn’t make sense! She was kind to him because it was a smart tactical move, not because she actually cared… right?

Zuko groaned internally as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Trying to understand Katara was like trying to understand Uncle. Uncle. His heart ached when he thought of the man that was more of a father to him in the last three years than his actual father had been since he was born. His betrayal of Uncle sat heavy in his stomach and stabbed painfully at his heart. He was wrong, he knew that now, and he could only hope and pray that maybe one day Uncle would find it in his heart to forgive him. He hoped that Uncle would approve of his new path of helping the Avatar. He wished Uncle could be here with him.

Letting out a slow, heavy breath, Zuko left the cave and headed towards the rooms below. He needed to find Aang - it was time for the Avatar’s first lesson in firebending.

~/~

Ask game: Give me the first sentence and I'll write a short piece for it!

[ninjagirlstar5]

Hello ! : D

I hope you're doing well, I wanted to tell you that I really like your content and art, also, could I request a chibi drawing of Mikako Kurokawa ? No pressure though, take your time ‼️

Thanks in advance and have a nice day/afternoon/night ! ✨️

One Chibi Stick Mikako for you, anon! And thank you for the kind words. :]

[incandescentflower]

OP I LOVE YOUR FICS, i have a request, for the hand holding prompt one, number 12, can you do with rj and alex

hey anon! I'm glad you like my fics! this one was fun. I hadn't really thought too much about Alex and RJ's relationship (I may be a biiit distracted by Bai Lang and Jin Xun-An 😂)

Anyone else interested, feel free to shout out.

For this post: send me a prompt number from one of these lists and characters for My Tooth Your Love and I'll write a short scene

This is number 12 of the hand-holding prompts: possessive hand-holding

Also on AO3 and all my mtyl one shots too.

an extra close eye

That kid was starting to irritate him. Sure, he asked a lot of questions because he was clearly eager to learn. And yes, he tried real hard and was getting the hang of how to not only manage the bar, but he’d started helping with the scheduling, the maintenance and the management of the supplies. Whenever he learned something new, he would break out such a wide, bright smile that Alex couldn’t help but smile too, but just a little. 

It was foolish, but what was irritating Alex the most was, he kinda liked the help. But RJ was fresh and new. It was his first time out on his own. The world looked hopeful and optimistic to RJ, even despite the way he was pushed into it. He was angry at his parents, sure, but after he had his time to get pissed about it, he mostly seemed simply happy to finally get a chance to be out on his own. But there was no way he could continue on at this job indefinitely.

What kind of happiness can you find sleeping on a couch in a supply room?

Even now, RJ was out bussing tables because their regular guy was sick. The servers were strapped so he was running drink orders to help out. He jumped in wherever he was needed without any real complaint. Alex was irritated that he was so damned nice about everything.

This was a perfect example. A customer was talking to RJ at one of the tables. RJ was smiling and nodding. But then, he kinda stepped back. The guy leaned closer, and RJ’s whole body language changed. He turned stiff and rigid, looking down at his feet. Alex had no idea what that guy was saying, but he knew he was out of line.

Alex made his way over to the table through the mass of people surrounding the bar and put his body between the customer and RJ.

“Is there a problem, sir?” he asked, gritting his teeth. Alex knew how to use politeness as a tool in these circumstances. 

“I’m having a nice conversation with your staff here,” the man said, a smug smile on his weasley little face. 

“Well, if you let me know what you need, I’m happy to help, but unfortunately, I need him right now.” Alex grabbed RJ by the hand, intertwining their fingers for emphasis. 

Alex pointedly looked at the customer, waiting for a response. The man seemed undeterred. He shrugged and said, “I can wait until he isn’t so busy.”

Alex did everything he could to not roll his eyes. “Unfortunately, he will be busy with me all night.” 

And with that, Alex stalked off toward the back of the restaurant with RJ in tow. He was so damned pissed, he could have punched that guy in his self satisfied face, but Alex knew nothing good ever came of acting on his impulses. 

When they finally escaped to the safety of the supply room, Alex stopped and turned to RJ. He looked shocked, his eyes wide, looking up at Alex. “Are you okay?” Alex asked. “That guy was a real asshole.”

RJ nodded, his eyes dropping to where their hands were still tightly grasped together. Alex hadn’t let go, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to make sure he kept RJ here, with him, safe. 

“Sorry,” Alex said, finally releasing RJ from his grasp. “I couldn’t leave you there.”

A slow smile spread across RJ’s face. “I’m fine. I’ve apparently got someone looking out for me.”

He gave Alex that look, the one that he often gave when he seemed like he was seeing Alex in a light that was not at all realistic. It was that hopeful optimism again. “And what are we doing to keep us busy all night?” RJ asked, taking a step closer. 

Alex froze for a second, his mind momentarily blank, no response queued up. Sometimes he was irritated at RJ because Alex had no idea what to do with him at all. 

“Cleaning,” Alex said, grabbing a bar towel from his back pocket and throwing it in RJ’s face. “You’re behind the bar with me for the rest of the night. Make sure to restock all the liquor.”

RJ smiled. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“And stop being so agreeable,” Alex said. “If a guy’s a jerk, don’t let him treat you badly. You don’t deserve that.”

RJ seemed to want to say something, but Alex didn’t wait. He couldn’t let this conversation go on any longer. It was already stepping into territory that Alex had intentionally avoided.

“I’ll see you out front,” he said, leaving the room to get some space to breathe. He quickly busied himself by reassigning some of the wait staff to cover the table with the asshole and calling in the part-timer to cover bussing tables until the end of the night. And Alex would fill the gap until she got there. 

And he would keep an extra close eye on RJ that night, you know, just in case anyone else got any stupid ideas. He had to look out for his employees. It’s what any good manager would do.

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.