#a swing and miss

[k3ithsk0gane]

I felt like I was reliving the final season of Voltron while watching the final season of The Umbrella Academy…

[abd-illustrates]

💛 Some Sketches 💛

A buncha Heartless doodles from last month that I forgot to post! (Mostly of Murphy the cat) 🐈‍⬛✨ I’m getting a clearer grasp on what I want Heartless’ ghouls to look like, but I’m still not 100% sure whether they work with his very yellow color scheme 💀

[DO NOT EDIT OR REPOST TO OTHER SITES / ACCOUNTS] ♻️reblogs are lovely tho!♻️

[homkamiro]

They have something I don't even know how to name

[kelddaa]

forehead kisses

Inspired by this screenshot:

(image credit to @/lesboubleo on twitter)

[yandere-wishes]

⋆ ˚｡⋆♡ Darling, I'm Falling, Messed Up Over You ♡⋆ ˚｡⋆

⭒⌒★ Yandere! Call of Duty Men x Reader★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝑒 ♡ ｡ ゜

⋆⁺₊✧ Simon "Ghost" Riley | سایمون "شبح" رایلی

There's a stark, painful limerence coiling tightly between his bones whenever he opens the apartment door and sees you lingering across the void. Your smile reminds him of bullet wounds scabbing over, all so tender yet agonizing to endure. He mumbles his hellos and everts his eyes lest he lose control. Lest he gives in and digs his fingers into your tender body, marring you with his lips and teeth, and tongue. Breaking open your bones as he ravishes the marrow, binding you to him carnally.

He's spitting blood into the bathroom sink, lungs burning from the RPG-7 jabbed into his chest this morning. He can see the bruises blooming across his ribs, swallowing his curses so they don't fall upon your innocent ears. "Ghost?" There's a gentle rap on the bathroom door, your voice feels like honey leaking over his heart. You push open the door, standing chest to chest. "What?" he grumbles, trying to steady his tremoring heart. "I got you this," you chirp, that ethereal smile glowing as you hand him a fluffy toy dog. Simon squeezes the toy, bringing it to his nose and inhaling your scent, high off your essence. There's a click before the war is lost. Simon dips his head, pushing his lips onto yours, his blood seeping past his lips down your throat, drowning you in his aether, claiming you in the rawest way he can imagine.

-`♡´- John "Soap" Mactavish | جا�� "صابون" ماکتاویش

"I figured you'd miss home so I bought you this" Soap will never understand your obsessions, this rooted topophilia. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't homesick, he'd also be lying if he said he'd really thought about anything other than you for far too long. The highland cow you present to him is fluffy and plump with a sweet smile sewn onto his muzzle. It reminds him of your darling smile…

Then again everything reminds him of you.

Johnny can't help but run his fingers up your spine and your arms. Trailing fleeting chaste kisses to your cheeks and neck, even when your face morphs into worry. He needs to keep you close always in arm's reach; you belong to him in ways that transcend simply being "friends". You've started to notice the highland cow on his desk more often; he seems to lug it around everywhere. Even Ghost and Gaz have started to notice, pointing it out with knowing looks. “Reminds me o' ma bonnie lass. Can’t bear tae part wi’ it.” You're not sure if you were meant to hear that, meant to see that possessive spark shimmering in his soft blue eyes. He's been dropping more hints lately, practically begging you to come over, “The wee coo misses ye somethin’ fierce. How ���bout ye swing by sometime, eh? It sounds all so innocent, it could even pass as gregarious. If it wasn't for the vice grip he has around your hand, nails digging into your flesh.

⋆𐙚⋆ Kyle "Gaz" Garrick | کایل "گاز" گاریک

It had started with that pond, that damned, perfect pond, a minute's walk from the base. Sergent Garric hadn't thought much of it at first, it's hard to focus on the atmosphere, the bustling of the outside when you're so desperate to get away from the inside. To flee from the overcrowded rooms and suffocating loom of war always drumming in his ear. He'd only noticed the ducks and the pond and the strange girl sitting beside it when, on one of his worst days, he'd tried to envision the whole park bombarded, strained to imagine it after a mushroom cloud. It's only then that he really notices you.

He hadn't meant to get so attached, but you'd made it nearly impossible not to. Something about the vision of your mangled corpse along the water's edge had reminded him of that one John Everett Millais painting he'd seen in the museum between deployments. Something about the frightful vision had him sitting next to you, trying to push out the right words to make you look his way. It's been months now, the pond, that perfect, wonderful pond, had glazed over, and yet he still finds you sitting by the water staring as if nothing ever really changed. You had slid him a knitted duck the other day, the same color as dandelions. And Gaz couldn't help the desperate hammering of his heart as he imagined, for the first time, what it'd be like to kiss you instead of standing over your cold body.

٠࣪⭑𖦹٠࣪⭑ Keegan P Russ | کیگان پی راس

He's found he likes sitting on the floor with you, sprawled out on the mohair carpets. Elbows digging into his knees as he watches you thread a needle through polychromy fabrics. Keegan finds it morbidly hilarious how he can feel the same needle threading through his skin, pulling at his dermis, and stitching through his veins whenever you smile at him, whenever your soft fingers trace over his scarred skin. So gentle, so soft, little needles trying to puncture military-grade steel.

He pulls you onto his lap, fingers running up and down your hips. Strumming lovelorn melodies upon your ribs. He ignores the way you grimace, excuses the way you flinch away from his touch. "Sweetheart" he whispers, lips sucking tenderly along your neck, trying to hold you still as you reach behind you. "Here," you say voice utterly monotone, stripped of its usual joy and radiance. You thrust a freshly sewn shark plush into his face. Keegan simply brings his lips to the toy with a wicked smirk. "Do I scare you that much?" he asks, hurt and haughty. When you don't answer, he pulls you closer, hugging you so tightly he swears he hears your bones crack.

ᯓ★ Alejandro Vargas | الخاندرو بارگاس

There's a sharp ache between his bones a treacherous agony every time you walk past him. The hall permeated with your sweet perfume. Alejandro can't help his lingering glance, the way his eyes stare at the places you've passed, at your ghost wavering in time. He'd do anything to kiss you, to hold you, to deprive the world of your existence, and selfishly harbor it only for himself.

There's a fox on his desk one morning, a tiny little doll with a bushy tail and beady eyes. "Why a fox muñeca?" he asks as you type away his latest mission briefing. "Oh, just cause you remind me of El Zorro." Alejandro laughs. He'd give anything to be the bandit that steals you away in the light of a full moon, the tarnished hero you cling to as the world burns. He leans down, lips brushing your temples in a chaste, fragile kiss. He can't help but look down at you, reveling in your beauty. Oh, how he wished he were a fox and you the lovely little rabbit trapped between his teeth. His perfect darling señorita.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Phillip Graves | فیلیپ گور

You remind him of Malibu Barbies lying halfheartedly along the golden sands. Ethereal and unreal, plastic shaped into perfection. But you're not Barbie not really, you refuse to emit that pink saccharine sweetness that most dolls do. Refuse to let him thread his fingers through your silky hair, pulling off his hand from your shoulder and pushing him away when he tries to kiss your cheek. Barbie would never he thinks, hollow, miserable laughter spilling from his lips as your glare tries to penetrate his skin and dig into his organs. You hate him, it's palpable enough, and yet he still harbors your hatred on this tongue like licorice, sweet and bitter, misplaced romance in every way.

The Eagle you hand him is a threat. Only you would know how to threaten someone with a gift, a little plushie of his favorite animal. A death threat wrapped in cotton and fleece. He sleeps with the pathetic thing to his chest, dreaming it was you, praying one day somehow someway you'd let him tuck you between his arms, high off your sweet aroma, nuzzling between your shoulder blades. "You're too Americana, you make me want to gag." Your voice hums in his head lyrical sermon. His grip grows tight around the little bird. He'll have you someday, he swears it.

୨ৎ Vladimir Makarov | ولادیمیر ماکاروف

You're so naive, bright-eyed little dolly desperately clinging to his every word as if it were sacred commandments from above. Precious little fool, devoting yourself to a dangerous man such as he. You're usefulness and eerie desperation are so malleable, he has you eating out of his palm like a well-trained puppy. He can give you martyrdom at his hand, he's sure you wouldn't protest.

Vlad doesn't bother with celebrations, doesn't wholly keep track of dates outside his agenda. Maybe that's why he's so surprised when you present him with a wrapped box one snowy afternoon. A birthday gift you had said, while he rolled his gorgeous mismatched eyes. Inside is a plush toy of a black wolf, Makarove can't help but scuff. Leave it to you to pick out such a childish thing. "It matches your tattoo," you gush, enthusiasm leaking from every word. Big innocent eyes desperately searching his face for a lick of approval and gratitude. "You've more important things to do than play with toys, милый" he scolds, watching as you wilt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Makarove leans closer, brushing your hair from your face as he whispers in your ear. "Although there is something else you could give me for my birthday, маленькая куколка."

𓆩♕𓆪 König | کونیگ

He follows you like a second shadow, masked goliath tailing you through the halls and the training fields. He finds it funny in a dry morbid kind of way, the same way dragons find little princesses so humorous before snatching them away. You certainly could pass for a princess, with your pretty face and sparkling doe eyes, your sweet smile that outshines the sun. Oh, how König could marvel at you for hours, memorizing every perfect detail about you.

"Here," you mutter one day, it's the first time you've ever talked to him. Stopping and turning to him in an empty hall, pushing a stuffed rabbit into his chest. König freezes a cold sweat erupting across his spine. You're looking at him with a stern, annoyed look in your eyes, he can't help but blush under his mask. You look so pretty just like the little bunny you're holding. "D-danke Lie-liebling" the words jab at his throat he can't spit them out correctly, not when you're looking at him, actually looking at him. You don't care what he does with the rabbit, hoping that by giving him something anything to remember you by, the giant may just leave you alone and stop stalking you through the base. It's a misplaced hope, you've only managed to amplify his longing, made him think you love him too.

࿔✮࿔ Sebastian Krueger | سباستین کروگر

He's taken to watching you through the day, following you wherever you go, just out of sight so you'd never catch an inkling. He leaves you handwritten notes describing how beautiful you look in your new dress, how pretty your new hairstyle is. He doodles little hearts and kisses all in a suspicious red ink. Leaves you voice messages enunciating how much he loves you, how he wishes he could carve out his heart and leave it between your ribs. The funny part? You have no idea your haunting admirer is really your dear teammate Sebastian Krueger.

He notices the eyebags one day as he bullies his way to you through the mess hall. "You look tired, schätzchen." You jolt awake, eyes scanning your surroundings in fear, when they finally land on his masked face, you relax. "Yeah, just...just haven't been sleeping well." Krueger has to bite his tongue to suppress his chuckle. He sees you pacing around your apartment at night, trying to find any clue as to who keeps breaking in, who is stalking you so acutely. You reach into your bag and hand him something fluffy. "Here I got you a present." He studies the plush cougar toy you've given him. Funny he thinks, Krueger, cougar, how did he not see you buying this?

"You knew they mean different things, right?" You can't see the eyebrow he has raised, but you giggle -such a heavenly sound to his ears- "Yeah but they sound the same," you lament, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes. "I love it (y/n), danke." Oh, how he's going to treasure this little toy, it even smells like you, how thoughtful. Is this your way of saying you like him too? Have all his nights of stalking and all his letters penned with his own blood finally paid off?

.✿. Nikto | نیکتو

There's a permanent lassitude tucked away inside him. There's not much left in the world that can make your heart skip a beat when you've seen every terror, felt every torture. No, Nikto had grown all too used to the permanent numbness, wearing it like a second skin. Until you showed up, Kortech had called you emotional support or something equally as degrading. Or maybe they hadn't meant anything by, maybe it's Nikto who refuses to hear you addressed as anything less than divinity, less than purity in its rawest form. The little кукла that had smiled at him…at them told him honeyed jokes and whispered girlhood secrets in his ear in hopes of earning a chuckle. Instead, Nikto had clawed out his heart and presented it to you with a desperate smile.

"I want you to have this " You're sitting on his cot, legs tucked under you, and he's trying not to blush at the heavenly feeling of your knees touching his. Your arms are outstretched, presenting him with a plush lamb tied pretty with a pink bow. It reminds Nikto of one of those pastoral portraits he'd see in the churches back home. It fits he thinks, he'd always thought of you as nothing less than holy. He cradles your gift with a tenderness he didn't know he had. "It looks a lot like you, милый" he tries to compliment. "Really? I thought it looked a lot like you."

Sorry for any errors in the other languages, I used Google Translate for them all. 😅😅

[doctorsiren]

Part 13

<- previous | next (coming soon)

[gideonisms]

sorry but most books "for fans of gideon the ninth" do NOT engage with gothic lit themes are NOT that funny do NOT have half as many bonkers plot twists and largely do not even have the same number of lesbians either. to be fair it's difficult to physically fit in as many characters per book as tazmuir does so I can excuse this on the basis that not everyone wants to write a 400-page space opera. but if that's not what you're writing then commit to writing something else!!

[unh0lyvenom]

dan and phil are going to block me one of these days and they'd be right

[linkcharacter]

Oh I have so many thoughts on aroace Curly, I think it brings so much on the table when analyzing the game's story.

Amanormativity ties in with the reoccurring mentions of the nuclear family, from Wrong Organ making 1950s mock advert posters, to Swansea talking about how getting a wife and kids didn't bring him any fulfillment in life.

In the cake cutting nightmare sequence, where Jimmy talks with Dream Curly about the mediocre cake, Dream Curly begins to talk about how sometimes you can only get the subpar stuff in live. Sometimes he'll get promoted, buy a house, fall in love. But other times he'll just have some awful fucking cake with his friend.

I think there is that subtle implication that Jimmy does buy into Amanormativity, with him projecting his beliefs on Dream Curly that a platonic relationship is lesser then a romantic one. But we never see Curly suggesting that he wants such a thing in the pre-crash.

With Jimmy thinking that Curly has everything in life, except for the desire (although I think Jimmy would view it as Curly not having the skills for it) to get a romantic partner, he would heavily lean into getting the one thing that Curly couldn't get in life to one up him.

THATS EXACTLY WHAT IM THINKING!!! AMATONORMATIVITY BE DAMNED!!!!

Looking at Mouthwashing through an aroace lens is interesting

"Jimmy thinking that Curly has everything in life, except for the desire", well said, well said! And references to the nuclear family fit in very cleanly thematically for Mouthwashing.

Jimmy leaning into amatonormativity is a smart observation. Jim internalizes all the social norms and standards on what you have to do to have a normal and desirable life, who sees everything Curly has and what Jimmy wishes he had, and is offended that Curly isn't satisfied, that he has the "audacity" to be unhappy. Curly meanwhile only wishes for his life to be something he doesn't have to run from, because by all means, he has already reached a point where he should feel accomplished, but isn't. Curly doesn't want to be a freighter captain his whole life, he doesn't want to settle with his sustainable position, he just wants to be happy. Like Swansea who has reached the "ideal" outcome of his life, having a wife, kids and a good career, it will never feel as good as embracing all what society deems undesirable yet right for you.

Jimmy does imply to seeing himself as lesser as a friend, "fall in love" being a goal and a "cake with a friend" being something he "has to settle for", it's all in the subtleties with underlying themes of "what you're "supposed to want" by society's expectations" against "what feels right for you". Jimmy is frustrated that Curly is going to "leave the dirt behind him", when in actuality, letting the crew and him go is the last thing Curly wants. Curly wants to be with his friends, he deeply cares about his crew, and about his close friend.

Mouthwashing as a whole reads to me as platonic through and through. Swansea and Daisuke having such a meaningful familial bond, Curly and Anya being sweet, playful and caring without romance, Anya and Daisuke having something of a siblings dynamic are dear to me. Also it's really rare to get to see representations of "toxic friendship" in media. Its always toxic romance this, toxic yaoi that, toxic family there, however in reality, friendships aren't excluded from being as rotten and abusive as the others, yet they're often overlooked. Jim and Curly are especially unique in this way. It's very impressive how they managed to showcase Jimmy's mistreatment of Curly in such a platonic way (at least that how I read it). Jim too, like Curly, in general avoids hints at romance and attraction explicitly related to him during his gameplay, not with Curly, nor with Anya (dear god thanks for that at least). It's all spite, annoyance and parasitizing off of these two. (That man's dry and lowkey hates everyone and everything) No attraction attached, no desires except hoping it hurts.

Curly to me is very much aroace, or at least on the spectrum. Like, the trivia fact that one of Curly's fondest memories is that of his friends putting in effort to make a shitty awful cake, tells us all we need to know on how dear his friends are to him. Platonic relationships mean so much to Curly, even when it's Jimmy fucking Mouthwashing, the worst friend ever imaginable.

[arl3kinka]

some swing 'n' miss for the soul since I started liking these too more than I'll like to admit <3

[andmaybegayer]

me when I don't have a very specific revenge fantasy

[gargoylelads]

They're texting Verity

[ceeisatlumon]

Presidential frostbugggg!!!!!!

I don’t have a lot of head cannons rn unfortunately but I would LOVE to hear other’s head cannons on them!!! (Would honestly be very happy 😭 feel free to tell me in asks !!

I really need to draw them more so I might look up some prompts

I have also been thinking about jotunn Loki and Mantis,,,,

❄️🪲

[homkamiro]

Flo has a great day every day, but Jeremy only has a great day if Flo looks at him

Original photo!!!! It looks so much like them I couldn't resist but to redraw

[evergreen-endo]

EMERGENCY CONTACT – y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. gn! reader; no pronouns used for reader. sexting and nut vids! yay! endo is slutty (affectionate). he calls reader baby once or twice. hints of pining if you squint. unedited. wc: 1.2k (lol)

Something about today has been so peaceful, and you can’t exactly put your finger on what it is. All you know is you feel content. Productive. Unbothered. 

Ding.

Unknowing of what is to come, you flip your phone over to read the notification and nearly jump out of your skin.

From: Yamato Endo

I just came so much thinking of you.

You can’t help the annoyed roll of your eyes or the long disdainful exhalation of breath. It all makes sense now; Endo’s been quiet all day. Until now. And of course, in typical Endo fashion, this is how he chooses to break his silence. You hate the way the corner of your mouth twitches upwards, and your fingers betray you. 

To: Yamato Endo

Proof?

You slide your phone across the kitchen counter, hoping to leave the room before you hear another ding, but it rings in your ears before you’ve even had a chance to fully stand up. There’s another load of laundry waiting to be folded that you could take care of before you touch your phone again. Or even a hot shower calling your name to be the solidification of a relaxing day. But your body turns against your will, fingertips reaching out for your phone as they often do, to your dismay.

From: Yamato Endo

[1 image attached]:

…It’s the most heinous shit you’ve seen in your life.

He wasn’t joking. Endo’s half-hard cock sits wet and glistening on his stomach, surrounded by a moat of milky, translucent cum. Clearly, he’d gone multiple rounds in multiple positions, made evident by the way his cum is streaked on nearly every visible part of his skin. 

There are drops of it still beaded onto the sheets below him where it’s dripped from his abdomen. His slender tattooed fingers are drenched, loosely wrapped around the base. His pubes are tousled and shiny, speckled in creamy dewdrops of cum. It even breaks up the lines of his inked skin, ropes laid over his pecs and splattered onto infinity. The last straw is the drop sandwiched between the tip of his tongue and bottom lip, complimented by an open mouthed smirk that’s all too familiar to you.

You contemplate blocking him. But your thumbs trail down to the keypad. 

To: Yamato Endo

What a waste. 

You wait for what feels like forever for those three little dots to pop up, but they never come. You figure it’s actually not such a bad thing that he isn’t touching his phone with soiled fingers, and walk away with a heat in your core that’s hard to ignore. 

It’s not easy to shake the thoughts of him away while you change into your loungewear— imagining the rough feel of his hands around your waist when you lift your shirt over your head. Or the squeeze of his palms into the meat of your thighs as your bottoms drop to the floor.

A distant ding from the other room pumps your heart up a pace, but your brain fights your body— resisting the urge to drop everything for a glance at your phone. Slowly slipping into something more comfortable, you attempt to ease yourself back into the peaceful mindset your day started with. 

It all crumbles when you see his name again. 

From: Yamato Endo

[1 video attached]: 

Your face burns the second you press play. Yamato is panting softly out of the frame, two tattooed fingers slowly scooping cum from his skin and letting out a soft keen as he smears it onto his cock. Your throat goes dry as you watch him pump himself, hips bucking from what you’re sure is overstimulation. Heat floods you at the low tone of his voice, “A waste, huh? You jealous, baby? Want my cum inside you?” A chuckle gets caught in his throat, groaning as his hand tightens, “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Bet you’re– nghh, fuck. C-clenching ‘round nothin–”

You take a sharp inhale, cutting his voice off with a click of the side button on your phone. You were barely halfway through the video and he’s already coursing through your veins. A few minutes with your head in your hands in complete silence is all you can muster. You hate that he’s right.

Breathe in, breathe out. Your heartbeat slows, your temperature regulates. It all gets thrown out the window a second later.

Ding. Ding. Ding. 

From: Yamato Endo

Cat got your tongue? You’re so cute, baby. Really not helping my case here. 

Oh yeah, your read receipts are on. You groan, throwing your head down onto your arms. He’d find it cute that you feel the need to avert your gaze when he isn’t even there to look at you. Peeking up at your phone, slowly you scroll back up to press play again. 

“—God, wish I could feel it– you. You always feel so fuckin’ good,” he breathes, strained and deep in his throat. The veins in his hands are prominent with how hard he’s gripping himself, the steady shlick making your brain go fuzzy. “Good enough that– haah, shit– once is enough. B-but without you,” he chuckles, “c-can’t stop, ‘s not enough. Need you…” Endo’s voice pitches into a whimper as he strokes faster, desperately, bucking his hips into his hand. The video shakes around a bit as he moves to end it, giving you a second long, blurry view of his fucked out expression and messy black locks spread out on his pillow.

The room is silent when the video ends. For a few seconds, actually. The realization that he never shuts up even when he’s alone should be infuriating, but there’s a puddle of arousal in the seat you’re in. You play the same game you always do, despite the desperation creeping up your throat.

To: Yamato Endo 

Doesn’t look like you need much help. 

You bite your lip when you press send– you wish he didn’t see through you. He’s not even around and you can sense the amusement exuding off him. You flick your eyes over to your keys dangling on the hook by the entryway, spine already threatening to fold.

From: Yamato Endo

[1 image attached]: Aw, not even gonna offer to clean me up? So mean to me.

Sigh. 

Cum coats Endo’s long fingers, milky white jewelry draped across the inked skin. His hand lays on top of his chest where a thin sheen of sweat glistens, sandwiched between muscle. The angry pink around his hardened nipples is another not-so-subtle suggestion that certainly wasn’t included in the frame on accident, knowing him.

You don’t even realize how long you stare at the photo before you’re rudely interrupted by a call. It’s him, of course, infuriatingly handsome features invading the entirety of your screen. For someone you refer to as just a hookup, you’ve set quite a romantic contact image. The rim of his cheekbone is lit by the evening sun; you’d been out on the beach doing things hookups don’t usually do. His intense eyes are cast to you from the side, complimented by an uncharacteristically warm smile. You make a mental note to change the photo later, and take a deep breath before you accept the call.

“Hey–”

He’s got no time for niceties, clearly, “What’s it gonna take to get you over here, huh? A ride and a meal? Can get you anything you want, just say the word.” He’s out of breath, but his tone is still laced with something smug.

You pretend to consider. “Hm…I’ll bite, maybe.”

He speaks through a smile. “God, I hope you do.”

[the-punforgiven]

A trope that'll never get old to me is when a squishy human character is fighting like a robot or a dude in armor and during the fight they try to punch their foe with their bare fists and it just does fuck all because that's metal dude, what did you expect