#barelegs

[barelegadventureboy]

Enjoying a bus ride with my feet and legs up.

[firmflexing]

Shins.

[feetloco]

Anybody for a Pepsi?

[stairnaheireann]

The War Hollow

Viking influence in the Celtic lands goes back to the very beginning of the Viking Age, when men from Scandinavia decided to make the perilous journey across the seas to take what treasures they could. One of these Viking raiders was Magnus Olaffson (Magnús Óláfsson), better known as Magnus Barelegs or Barefoot, the king of Norway from 1093 until his death in 1103. His aggressive military…

[minyboy]

It doesn't matter what day it is, as long as you are happy.

[givehimthemedicine]

I'll never find it now but @henrysglock I think you had a post about Henry's odd line to El about the lab being a prison

and now this Hop and El exchange is making my brain itchy:

maybe you've been over this and I missed it - have you dug into significance to those day counts? 21, 205, 326?

she isn't just making it general and saying 50, 100, 200, which sounds like she's referring to specific days where Hopper literally told her "soon", which means she must have brought up "hey can I maybe see humans ever again?" on those days, which sounds like there was maybe something significant going on.

we have a well defined day count on the milkvan separation, but that's not the same as the cabin captivity count, which is what she's complaining about.

El calls the morning after Halloween day 326, which puts the cabin captivity start date at December 11, 1983.

December 11, 1983 + 21 = January 1, 1984 December 11, 1983 + 205 = July 3, 1984 December 11, 1983 + 326 = November 1, 1984

anything?

[barelegadventureboy]

Legplay on a train

[diah-the-demon]

These fishnets are kinda comfy ngl

[gravegoer]

Take a hint. ✿ part 2

my masterlist

sevika putting up with more oblivious reader!! this time, how does she react when her subtle ways of flirting don't get to you. every move she makes seems to bounce right off your head and land back in her hands !! [short little blurb at the end for the cute ending]

After your previous encounter with Sevika, you start to see her around more than you'd like. After having a few drinks with you and playing a game of cards (which you lost), you think you could even call the woman a friend.

You dont notice it, but she's gone soft. Specifically around you. Surprisingly, she didn't make you pay her for the forsaken poker game. Even more surprisingly, it seems as if you never had to drop a coin when you're in her presence.

Wanted a drink? It's on her. Ran into her when grabbing a snack? You just earned yourself a free pastry. Grabbing a ride home in the dark? She's got your cab. (And threatened the driver)

All of this in your eyes was simply nice deeds from a nice friend. In other peoples eyes, the undercities most threatening woman had been tamed.

She insists on walking you home after an encounter at the bar with the repeated saying, "I have nothing better to do, so I guess I'll do you the favor."

She glares at anyone who even tries to look your way. She knows you're a pretty thing, but she wants you for her eyes only. Obviously, this goes unnoticed by you as her nasty looks are sent over your head.

The people in Zaun are undoubtedly curious about your relationship. In a way, it almost scares Sevika, knowing that if the wrong person knows about you, you could immediately turn into a liability.

Having said this: she tried to keep her "affections" away from prying eyes, but she couldn't help but smirk when you asked questions about her arm or her job, even Silco, seeming genuinely curious. She'll answer with a teasing remark and an almost genuine smile.

Of course she does still have her guard up around you, only having known you for a few months. But one day caused her to be more vunerable with you more than she ever has to anyone since she was a kid.

A loud thud wakes you, its the middle of the night, what the fuck could that possibly be?

You glanced at your clock, the minute hand on 35, the hour hand on—two?? It was the ripe hour of two a.m., and you couldn't get some peace and quiet in Zaun. You almost rolled over to the other side of the bed before you heard an almost silent grunt from outside.

This prompted you to sit up and grab a jacket that was resting on your nightstand, still barelegged you made your way to the front door. The door creaked as you opened it, and you jumped at the sight of Sevika, on the ground, leaning against your doorframe. "You do know it's dangerous to open your door in the middle of the night to a stranger, right?" Sevika teased.

You panicked, "Sevika! What happened—I mean, why are you— did you plan on sitting on my doorstep if I wasn't awake? You're seriously reckless!" You tugged at her arm trying to get her up.

"Slow down, I just needed a place to sit and catch my breath thats all." She grunted at your motions, stumbling up but standing nonetheless.

"Catch your breath? Are you crazy?" You catch a glimpse at the blood seeping through her shirt, "Shit— are you okay?" You led her into your house, letting her plop down onto the couch with a grunt.

You told her to stay there (not like she could move) as you went to the bathroom to grab some bandages and other miscellaneous things you assumed you needed. You barely noticed your hands trembling when you opened the cabinet. You were worried. Extremely worried. I mean, you knew her job was dangerous, but like this? Damn.

As you re-entered the living room, Sevika was perched haphazardly on your couch, barely fitting with her size. She clutched her torso, where blood stained her shirt and dripped down her arm. You hurried over to her, dropping to your knees beside her left leg to move her hand and survey the wound. "Already on your knees for me?" She let out a strained chuckle.

You rolled your eyes at the crude joke, "Will you be serious?"

She went quiet while you pulled her shirt up and started to disinfect the wound. She hissed at the slight burning, but you continued. At a particularly tender spot, she grunted and grabbed your wrist for a moment but pulled away quickly.

"How did this happen?" You questioned, less shakey now that you had her on your couch, somewhat fixed up.

"Just some enforcers, trying to mess with Silcos people. He gave me the task of getting rid of them. The usual," She stared at you her gaze shufting to the goosebumps on your bare legs.

"The usual?" You muttered to yourself.

You motioned for her to scoot forward so you could wrap the bandages all the way around her exposed (but now clean) torso. If you were looking, you'd see the way her face contorted in embarrassment. But of course, you weren't.

"So...why my doorstep? Like, why not... I dont know— Silcos?" You shrugged.

"Silco? Seriously? You think I'd go to the guy who put me in this mess over you?" She scoffed, shifting in a way that wouldn't strain her wound. Then, she brushed her hand over your leg, trying to calm the coldness with the heat of her hand.

Humming at the warmth, you asked, "So what im hearing is you like me more than your boss?"

"Well yeah? You're—" She cut herself off when she caught your gaze, looking up at her through your eyelashes.

"I should go, I need to report back to Silco." She quickly gained composure again but made no move to get up.

"Back to Silco? Sevika, I think you can wait the night. You're hurt." You unconsciously leaned into her touch, her hand still resting on your thigh.

You got up, heading to the bathroom to put your leftover supplies away; leaving no room for disagreement.

You could hear her shuffling around outside and stand up to open the bathroom door. You open it to her standing closer than you expected, leaning on the doorframe. Her flesh arm balanced just above your head, mechanical arm on her hip.

"You're too sweet on me, y'know that?" The woman questions a hint of humor in her voice.

"Well thats what friends are—" She cuts you off.

"No. No more of that friend bullshit. Do you not see what im always trying to imply here?" She was now getting irritated.

"Sevika what the hell are you talking about?" Before you can barrage her with more questions she groans and clutches her torso, head falling onto her arm.

Your demeanor instantly shifts, now putting your hands atop her mechanical arm with concern. She pushes your hands away and groans either out of pain or frustration (probably a mix of both). "Let me help you." You wrapped your arms around yourself, sighing at Sevikas' sudden outburst.

"You've done enough. We are just friends, after all. You dont need to overstep." She started walking (stumbling) towards the front door.

You followed after her in frustrated strides, faster than her limping form. Standing in front of her, you blocked her path to the door, "Are you trying to imply we are more than friends?"

"No. I just said we are just friends? Did you hear me," She spoke shortly and with an obvious temper.

"Dont be smart with me," You pointed a finger in her face.

"I've been trying to talk you up, okay? I thought you'd notice, but i guess you're just as dumb as I thought you were," She stood motionless, waiting for you to speak.

"Wait..like the guy at the bar that you said tried to get into my pants?" You cocked your head to the side, making a face.

She almost growled at you, pushing you out of the way so she could get to the door. I mean, seriously? She's going to basically confess to you, and you twiddle it down to her wanting to get in your pants? She's no better than the guy at the bar, right?

Before she can even touch the knob you pull her by the shoulder, spinning her already weak body around (something you definitely wouldn't be able to do when she's at full health) and stared up at her. "I wouldn't mind it." You said a little too confidently.

You slid your hand down her mechanical arm and held onto her forearm. "You wouldn't mind.. me trying to get into your pants?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Yep."

"Alright." She sighed, sliding her human hand down her face, "I just thought you knew. Since you're always doing shit like that, " She motioned with a tilt of her head to your hand on her prosthetic.

"Like what?"

"You know nobody else wants to touch my mechanical arm. Especially in the way you do." You recall all the ways you held onto it when you walked together or tapped on it languidly when you're bored.

"Well, im not scared of you, you know?" You spoke somewhat defensively.

"Yeah. I caught onto that." She grumbled.

"Can we just go sit down and talk about this?" You sighed.

Not letting you pull away, she latched her other hand onto the back of your neck and pulled your head up towards hers. She bent over ever-so-slightly to meet you in the middle and pressed her thick lips against yours.

Her mouth tasted like a burnt cigar and something bitter, but you leaned in nonetheless. Your free hand gripped onto her bicep and pulled her impossibly closer. A grunt escaped her mouth at that and you realized she was still hurt.

"I'm sorry did I hurt you—" You pulled away.

"No." She lied, trying to pull you back in.

You retaliated and giggled at her eagerness. "Can I sit you down and make you something to drink before we 'talk' about this?" You quoted yourself, knowing talking most likely wasn't needed for the next few hours.

thank you for reading :) i have to taglist yet, so pleasseee specifically, comment if you want to be on it ! for now, I'll tag the people that have commented on part 1 so far !! <3 im slightly new to this, so support, tips, and reuqests are ALWAYSSS appreciated

@lesbo-tuliplvrr @luvmei

and i hope you guys like this as much as i did <33 thank youuu kissessss

[hisaribi]

So, I decided I wanna dress up Nightwing like a doll into the favorite parts of his costume, but because I'm too worn out to draw it, I'm gonna just put screenshots here

Gonna start with his Robin first years, I do adore this new-ish version of him wearing shorts and still being like barelegged and all that

also I'm ignoring all and any interpretations in which Dick joined Bruce past ten y.o. He's a freak baby

Also gonna ignore his Robin later years because the only main difference was him adding pants as he grew older. and it was the color of his family, not nightwing colors, but yeah

So, let's go to the Nightwing era. While I do his current suit, I feel like I wanna it to be more complex in a way, so I'm gonna make him wear all the best parts at the same time and what're you gonna do about it

First, whoever thought of this metal bracers on his leg in utrh was a genius, and I think Nightwing must keep it all the time. What? is it related with me having to wear compression sleeve for the knee? nah, you're seeing things my dude. anyway, pics

The next very best design decision one can make for Dick is him having a long hairs. Not a mullet, but hairs past his shoulders, maybe reaching his shoulder-blades or however you call that

then, THE JACKET, that's like the best thing, both the one that follows the Nightwing sign and the one that's just a bit baggy and leather

ALSO, add golden feathers back, pls, just DO IT, it's so pretty (won't ask to add the discowing neck thing, because meh, he can have this in his jacket as a treat though)

also maybe, just maybe, give the dude a utility belt? and maybe a holster? but his sticks still on his back?

and yeah, blue soles and blue stripes on his hands and fingers is still the best thing in the modern design Nightwing costume, leave it be. as well as everything (but a jacket) hugging his body frame tightly. and a blue mask

Also he must be disheveled and covered in band-aids, as a treat

(and I fucking love the art of this issue, I need to find the artist)

Now some short propaganda

His jacket is great to take down and put over some victim's shoulders for comfort. Or for his friends and family even when they're down and he gets serious to deal with a threat, like a sign of here, rest a bit, I got it

Long hairs are just perfect for the villain of the week to hold him on them, as he's almost unconscious

Nightwing needs more shazaah cue the golden touches to his costume. also the dude's been running around in stealth dressed in bright yellow, just black and blue won't make him more stealthy, yk

The guy needs a lock pickers and a gas mask in his inventory, knowing the shit he's been dealing with his whole life, so the utility belt is a must. and also once again some candies and first kit aid for victims and other vigilantes

He had so much physical trauma, he's been doing it since he was a kid, he's been doing a physical activities since he was born, you know, living in a circus and all that, of course at least one of his knees is gonna be absolutely destroyed, there's no way around it, and him having this constant reminder that he's human, he's doing his best and so on, just yeah. but also is it the great aim fpr hi s enemies to hit on? yep. do I care about that? nope. also he doesn't hit with his right knee not because he's gonna hurt himself, but because he's gonna totally break bones with this bracer

thanks for coming to my ted talk, noe I'm gonna fuck off

[seconddoubt]

how do you stop using isolation and avoidance as coping mechanisms if you've used them your entire life and they've become instinct and going against that instinct feels like calling people to watch you do a barelegged knee slide on gravel that ends with getting hit by a car?

[primiera]

i would bareleg or big sock more outfits but my thighs would rub, probably

[bethagain]

Ruminating on OFMD, as one does. It’s been fun to see everyone’s takes on what happened between the end of S2 E6 and the morning of E7. But what else might they have gotten up to besides, um, what followed immediately after the curtains closed?

Then I remembered the crew had borrowed the bathtub.

Also on AO3 as The Bathtub's Full of Rum. A short and sweet little scene, no plot really just vibes, a little blushworthy but mostly SFW.

---

“I need a bath.”

Ed’s head is pillowed on Stede’s chest, hair a glorious tangle.

By the time they were both aware of the world again, the singing above them had stopped. There’s no more laughter drifting down. No footsteps on the deck.

The sky, full of stars, is its own firework now. 

Ed turns his head, burrowing his face against Stede’s skin. “Yeah, you do.”

“So do you,” Stede says, and immediately regrets the affronted tone.

“Never said I didn’t.” Ed rolls away and sits up. Shifts close again though, hip against Stede’s side. He runs his hands through his hair, looping some strands around in a practiced motion to keep it off his face. “Did you see what happened to my shirt?”

A few minutes later they’re padding down the passageway, bare feet on smooth wood. Stede knocks, just in case the washroom is occupied. 

It’s not. The room is empty. In fact, even the bathtub is missing.

“I told them to put it back,” Stede sighs.

“It’s probably still full of rum. Along with your crew.”

Stede looks around for ideas. “I suppose we could wet some towels, for now?”

Ed reaches for his hand. “I have a better idea.”

Stede’s not too sure about climbing to the deck in just his nightshirt, even though it does cover all the important bits. Ed doesn’t give him time to object, tugging him up the ladder and into the starlit air. 

Ed, not fully dressed either, looks at ease in a pair of Stede’s linen drawers, his own abbreviated black shirt skimming the waistband. Stede, barelegged, is starting to feel ridiculous. 

The Revenge is still wearing its finery. The paper lanterns, no longer illuminated from within, are shades of silver. The cloth flags, breaking up familiar sightlines, hold the shape of a temporary dance floor. 

The crew seem to have fallen asleep wherever rum and exhaustion caught up with them. Lucius and Black Pete are cuddled together under a blanket on the steps to the quarterdeck, Pete’s head on Lucius’s shoulder and Lucius’s head tilted to rest against Pete’s. Frenchie and Roach are sharing a pile of sailcloth nearby, each snoring softly. 

Jim’s laid out beside the capstan, one arm thrown around Archie’s shoulders. Archie’s legs are tangled with Olu’s. Ed takes a long step over their feet. Stede manages to follow without tripping.

“Where are we going?” he whispers. 

Ed raises a finger to his lips, pulling him along as they tiptoe past Wee John, glamorous as ever, leaning against a pillow with his back to the mast. They slip by Izzy, sound asleep beside Wee John, the silver light making the glitter above his eyes glow.

At the port side gangway, where a Jacob’s ladder waits ready to be lowered toward the sea, Ed drops Stede’s hand. He’s already pulling up the hem of his shirt as he flashes Stede a grin. “Ready to go swimming?”

Stede’s too busy staring at that shirt coming off to answer. Looking at Ed has always been distracting, but now he knows how those lines of muscle feel. How there’s steel under the softness of his belly, how the hair on his chest manages to be coarse and like silk, at the same time. 

Stede’s brain catches up.

“We’re in the middle of the ocean! Do you have a death wish?”

“Ship’s hove to,” Ed says. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“No one’s even on watch!”

But of course someone is, because even if Stede forgot for a minute what it means to be a pirate, the crew would not. He follows Ed’s nod toward the foretop, where a shadow turns out to be Fang and–is that a goat? 

“Does he even see us?”

Ed raises a hand and Fang waves cheerfully, then turns deliberately away. He shifts the goat, too, so they’re both facing off to starboard.

“You’re insane,” Stede says. In reply, Ed unbuttons the linen drawers and drops them, and he’s over the side before Stede gets more than a glimpse. 

Stede leans over the gunwale in time to see the splash, white lines of water spreading in concentric circles where Ed went in. It’s only a second or two before Ed’s head pops up and Stede can breathe again. 

A low-voiced shout floats up. “You’d probably better take the ladder. It’s a long way down.” 

It does look like a long way down. 

And yet… It’s been a night for firsts, hasn’t it. Stede looks behind him, where the crew are still out cold. He glances up to the foretop, where Fang is steadfastly looking out to sea. He looks down at Ed, who’s treading water, smiling up at him.

It’s a new experience, tugging the nightshirt over his head, letting the night air and the starlight touch every inch of his skin. Stede steps to the bulwark and unhooks the rope that guards the gangway. He drops the ladder, because how else are they going to get back up again. And then he steps to the edge, letting bare toes hang over. “How do I do this?”

Ed’s grin widens. “Bend your knees, get a good jump away from the side. Then arms over your head, back straight, point your toes.”

Stede breaths in, breathes out, looks at the starlight on the water. “Get out of my way,” he calls down. 

He hits the water with a whoosh, breath knocked out of him, a rush of bubbles closing above his head. He surfaces grinning like an idiot, laughing even as he’s gasping for air. The water is cool but not cold, with tiny currents alive against his skin, the night breeze on his face, silver sparkles dotting the surface as far as he can see. Ed is waiting a few yards away, watching him, eyes shining like the stars. 

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

Oh goodness, Duryo’s barelegged down there in his 2nd ascension. WHORE.

he is and I need to do things to his womb that would get me arrested