#LET HIM HAVE NICE SOFT THINGS

[chocolatecakecas]

dean literally buys the fluffiest towels and the softest sheets and the plushiest rugs and the coziest throw blankets. let him have nice comfy things

[kingofanemptyworld]

hey you know what would be fun? a fic where the Royal Guard follows through with their plans to make Ichigo the new Soul King and Grimmjow promptly loses his shit because what the actual fuck Ichigo has already given these people literally everything, twice, and this is how they repay him? recruits Nel and Harribel and Urahara and Yoruichi (after Nel sits on him for a while because Jesus Christ Grimmjow you can’t storm Soul Society by yourself no matter how much you’ve powered up) and it’s the Ryoka Invasion all over again except with pissed off arrancar instead. I just think it would be neat

[bylertruther]

those mike pov fics that really actually show the difference between mike and will's exterior behavior in the sense that mike sees and knows that will is less "tough" and "masculine" than him, but he doesn't think anything negative of it at all and is trying to break through to will who is trying to hide that bc he feels shame or embarrassment for it..... they jus hit different .

and when will sees that mike won't judge him for his sensitivity and that he actually loves that about him? that mike doesn't view him as any less of a man or view it as abnormal? and so he comes out of his shell and becomes so much more vibrant? bro im tearing up just thinking abt it like—

AND WHEN THAT IN TURN MAKES MIKE COME OUT OF HIS SHELL, TOO, AND BECOME MORE EXPRESSIVE AND VULNERABLE?! GODDDDDDDDD

[sysig]

Looking his very best, as much as he can anyhow (Patreon)

[57sfinest]

what is the forbidden harry and jean lore

cracking my knuckles before preparing to type the most deranged post in the history of the world

okay so listen. harry and jean are so unbelievably fucked up. their relationship is TERRIBLE for them both. it's toxic, it's abusive, it's deeply codependent and it's also the only thing either of them has.

here's the thing. the partnership starts off fairly normal- yes, harry is a shithead, he's not a good person, but neither is jean and harry doesn't treat him like shit right off the bat. harry starts off on his best behavior, because here's a new guy who's much younger and who he outranks: this is fresh meat, thrown into his enclosure. another can for him to open. someone new to help him bear his burdens until he inevitably throws them away. he's gotta be let in first, though, so he's playing the role of mentor or chill superior officer or whatever until jean relaxes around him and starts to let his guard down. because despite jean's apprehensions- he's heard about gool ol' dick mullen, after all- harry can be funny, kind, and very good at his job. so maybe everyone was wrong- maybe, to him, harry will be good. maybe this partnership will work out. jean finds himself liking harry and caring about him. harry catches onto this, because of course he does, and the backslide begins.

it starts off minor. more hangovers at work, a little speed off the bathroom mirror. but it's fine because they're still getting work done. harry snaps at him a little, but it's just a rough patch. it's okay. they're not just work partners anymore, they're friends. maybe they're more, although they'd never put a name to it. they go to each other's places and they talk and smoke and drink and shoot the shit about anything they can think of: the world, the pale, the cases. it's an easy thing. a dangerous routine. if jean starts drinking more, to match harry- it's fine. at least it's in company. and all the while harry is getting openly worse, getting completely hammered at work, having more outbursts than actual conversations, lashing out at everyone. jean is no longer safe from it. jean no longer abstains from it either. and it's still jean's responsibility as his partner to take care of him, to keep him going. harry does not usually seem to care about reciprocating, but that's not the point. it's jean's job and, unfortunately, he cares. he's not sure what he would do without harry, now. he's not sure what harry would do without *him*.

harry the can-opener realizes what they've become- codependent, inseparable- and starts spiraling rapidly. he has the freedom to, now. jean talks to him about the drinking, and harry tries to kick it, and jean really believes in him. believes in him when he fails, when he tries again a few weeks later. over and over again until harry stops trying. says he wants to get worse. and jean gets it, at first. only at first. he's depressed too, he understands the suicidal thoughts and tendencies, understands how easy it is to get trapped in an addiction. he knows how important his support is to harry's continued survival.

but it's like everything harry does is to hurt him. screams at him and threatens him and leverages anything he can against him, including very personal things he's pried out of him, then shows up at his door with tears in his eyes and a gun in his hand telling jean that he's sorry, he's never going to do it again, he's going to make sure of it. and jean, still raw and angry from their fights, invites him in, takes the gun from his hand and talks him down and drinks with him, because what else is there to do? jean will never lay down and take it, has no interest in being the better person anymore- he knows every little nasty detail of harry's life by now, and he's not shy about digging his nails into harry's scars- but when everything is said and done, when all the punches have been thrown, he's still going to be there. he's going to be around to bandage the knuckles harry just hit him with because this is it. there's nothing else for either of them.

it doesn't matter that harry lies to him- about what he's been doing, how he's feeling, about where their belongings end up or where the money went, about things he did on a case. it doesn't matter that harry provokes the shit out of him until he's screaming himself raw, then lays down and cries about it until *he's* the one apologizing. it doesn't matter that harry only gets worse, and that somehow he's the one blamed for it. every day they rip each other apart because at least that way they can feel something. it's easy to scream at someone knowing they'll scream back, and then come sleep in your bed anyway. neither of them is going to leave except by death, and they both know it.

there's a complete erosion of boundaries between them. luiga himself confirmed their codependency. if something was jean's, it was harry's too, and vice versa. everything was each other's business. there was nothing kept apart between them. harry cracked jean open and gutted him, so jean did the same to him. they understood each other *too* well, so they knew exactly how to hurt each other, and they did just that. and that's the sad part, that they were so completely exposed with one another- it could have been so good for them. harry could have been a better person and so could jean. they might have been able to heal together. but we see jean's ableist hostility towards harry in the ending: jean has lost all patience for harry. there is no sympathy left.

and you wonder: why, now, does jean call it quits? why, after several years of mutual destruction, does jean draw a line in the sand here? well, obviously- he's been rejected. harry told him to fuck off in martinaise, which of course was not new behavior, but usually harry would come back to cry and beg and plead with him not to leave him. and harry's not doing that. harry doesn't even know who he *is*. harry is running around with this guy he barely knows, and he's functional and they're not having screaming matches, and when harry does finally approach him, he just twists the knife right in by insisting this new guy is cooler. he thinks jean is an asshole now, and not in the way he did before where he thought it was fun to fuck with him. jean is nothing to him, in the most thorough and all-consuming way possible. harry doesn't even know his *name*.

so, fine. harry dumped him. harry's not coming back to him, and he's sure as hell not going to put in the work to rebuild that bridge, not when he should have burned it years ago anyway. and if that's how it's going to be, he's got some things to say. he's going to make it hurt for harry as much as it hurts for him. maybe he doesn't believe every single thing he says in the ending, or not fully, but it doesn't matter. he's going to say everything he can to hurt harry because harry is leaving him, and they already failed each other a long time ago.

[seiwas]

a good cry always does wonders

[ectonurites]

SUPER DARK TIMES (2017) DIR. KEVIN PHILLIPS

[soupis4ever]

poor olimar. he's not even a full inch tall and he's been sent to the Horrible Alien Death Planet so many times and it's still unclear wether he got to see his family in-between these journeys

[tardis--dreams]

Alright maybe my coworkers don't Actually hate me after all~

[soul-spoken]

I vent or breakdown so often, I know I get told it's fine and talk when I need to but geez it feels so excessive, like I'm overly sensitive or just really really easily triggered over things that shouldn't even relate to my trauma

We come to solutions or we distract from it, or we cuddle, but it's just always there.

I can almost always feel the dumb anxiety or depression feelings, I don't want to

I wish my brain understood that

[sysig]

See you everywhere, now that you’re gone (Patreon)

[idiaa-shroxd]

YOUR WRITING IS SO PRETTY I COULD EAT IT. YOU CHARACTERIZE THE CHARACTERS SO WELL TOO!!!

thank you so much!! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ happy you think my writing is very pretty!! and also makes me happy you think my characterization was correct.

when writing for characters always take a bit of extra time to ensure they sound good? thinking about having an actual conversation with them for a minute and what they’d do! ♧ personally a big fan of viginettes since that reveals a lot of a character more than mainstory.

Σ('◉⌓◉’) mini (huge) rant within the tags of the way of my process to understand a character!!

[misfortunegirl]

obligatory photo to sum my feelings up

[ectoplasmer]

did I tell you guys earlier that i might’ve almost cried when I saw littlekuriboh was streaming ryou playing phasmo. i’m so Unwell

[euthymiya]

“Did you know—”

“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).

But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.

(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).

“It’s a warning,” you hum.

He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”

Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.

You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.

“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.

“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.

“We just mated—”

“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”

“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”

“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.

Sukuna is tired.

(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.

Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.

If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)

“I’m not tired,” you hum.

“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.

“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.

He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.

It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”

“You bit my fucking nipple.”

“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.

(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.

He doesn’t like it.)

“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”

“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”

You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.

“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”

“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.

Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”

“Night.”

“I love you.”

“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”

[random-thot-generator]

Ghost decides after one blind date that you're going to be his.

>>>>>

Simon isn't used to dating. A quick hook up in the loo, sure. A drunken one night stand? He's had too many of those to count. But proper courting? Hell, it's been years, maybe a decade, since he's taken a bird out on an actual date.

It's probably going to be a disaster, but he gave Johnny his word he'd go out with his bird's best friend, so he can't back out now. He'll just have to grit his teeth and power through it.

His sour outlook for the evening is forgotten the second he sees you walk in with Johnny's bird. You're no tipsy tart on the pull, like the birds he's used to dealing with. You're a proper lady, dolled up nice for your date with him. It makes his chest feel tight when he gets a good look at your pretty face and nervous little smile.

His usual gruff manner is obviously not going to fly with you, so he quickly tries to recall the mannerisms he's seen his captain use around women. He gets to his feet with Johnny when the two of you reach the table, trying his best to look less intimidating.

Johnny introduces the two of you, and Simon melts inside when he takes your soft little hand in his for the first time. His brain goes fuzzy, dark eyes glazing over, and he's not sure what he says when he greets you, but it earns him a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Simon," are the first words you say to him.

Your voice is soft and sweet, and the way you say his name? Oh, he's gonna need to hear more of that, and often.

For the first time in a long time, Simon's worried about what someone thinks of him. He's worried he'll put you off with his harsh manner. So, he minds his words and gentles his tone. He slows his steps to match your pace and tucks your small hand at his elbow to keep you close and safe. He's holding doors and pulling out your chair. He compliments your dress and hair.

And when your heel catches on the sidewalk and you stumble, he doesn't bark a laugh or say something mean, wouldn't bloody dream of it. No, he catches you before you fall, and all that softness in his hands makes something shift in his brain. You're such a fragile little thing, delicate as spun sugar. You need a big nasty mutt like him to protect you, take care of you, and he's more than willing to do the job.

When the date is over, Simon sees you home, and you kiss him on your front stoop. It's not all groping hands and tangling tongues. It's a gentle press of lips, his big hands cradling your face, the sweet intimacy making his eyes flutter shut. He's floating when he finally gets back in his truck and drives himself home.

Instead of going to bed, Simon begins to formulate a plan of strategy. He figures it'll take a few more dates before you invite him into your flat, and several more after that before you invite him into your bed, then eventually into your life. It might take months, even a year or more. That's alright, though. If his years in the military have taught him anything, it's patience.

Simon knows how to play the long game. He'll go at your pace, let you get used to having him around, then make himself indispensable to you. No one will treat you as good, meet your every need and desire the way he will. He won't stop until he is your world, your reason for being. Your everything.

And when enough time has passed, he'll claim you completely as his. He's going to put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly, then tuck you away safe and sound in one of those cute country cottages he looked up online. You'll be his little missus, and he'll be your tamed beast, keeping his teeth and claws hidden but at the ready.

By the time he arrives at your flat the next evening for your second date, he's already got your engagement ring in his safe at home and the names of your future children picked out.

And when you text him the day after to invite him for dinner, the new name he replaced yours with pops up on his screen.

It says 'Missus Riley', of course.

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