#but this writer had fun so

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

7.

With a deep sigh of contentment, Roy bit into his kebab. One of the very, very few perks of no longer playing professional football was being able to indulge in whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. At the rate he was going, Hus would be able to retire in a couple of months.

”Big man Roy Kent!”

Roy stilled. That voice—

It couldn’t be—

But it was. Roy lifted his eyes and there he fucking was, Jamie fucking Tartt, in Roy’s fucking kebab place.

Roy wasn’t quite sure what the most bizarre part was: Jamie being there at all, or Jamie smiling at him in what didn’t immediately appear to be a sneering way.

For a moment, he was too stunned to do anything but stare. Jamie’s bright smile didn’t waver.

Then Roy said the only thing he could thing of, which was, “No,” and immediately went back to his meal, hoping that Jamie would – for once in his miserable muppet life – get the message and simply get lost.

Jamie did not get the message. After a brief silence (during which Roy pointedly didn’t look at the other, but could well imagine the stupid faces he was pulling while trying to make sense of the simply one-syllable word), the idiot plowed right on. “How you’ve been, you’ve been good, yeah? Saw you sitting here, figured I’d say hi. You’re doing Soccer Sunday now, right? Bet you’re dead good at that.”

For fuck’s sake. Roy seriously considered just getting up and walking off but the way this was going he wasn’t convinced that Jamie wouldn’t just follow him. He put the kebab done, and fixed the other man with the most baleful stare he could muster. “What the hell is this?” he growled. “What the fuck are you doing?

For a moment, he had the terrible notion that Jamie had signed up for another show, and that this was somehow part of it. Some kind of fucking Punk’d hidden camera bullshit or something. But no, that was ridiculous.

Then again, so was ditching City to do go on reality TV. Roy surreptitiously glanced around. As far as he could tell, there were no cameras.

That was the thing about hidden cameras, though, wasn’t it? That you couldn’t fucking tell that they were there.

“Um, I told you, mate,” Jamie said, speaking slowly as if he seriously believed that Roy just hadn’t heard him, “Saw you sitting here, thought I’d say hi.”

If this was a prank, it was a bloody ridiculous one. And anyway, Roy rather doubted Jamie had the acting chops to fake looking this stupidly earnest. It was oddly unsettling to see him like that, especially because otherwise he looked exactly as he had on Lust Conquers All; he wore his hair the same way, and wore the same sort of obnoxiously coloured and patterned clothes (albeit rather more of them). It was just the look on his face that was different.

Almost just the look on his face. Roy hated how he could tell that Jamie seemed to have filled out ever so slightly in the months since coming home, the overly and artificially defined sharpness at least somewhat rounded by a healthy athlete’s robustness.  

Fuck. Part of him wanted to grab the younger man by his stupid shirt and shake him and ask what the hell had he been thinking, throwing away his career to get naked with a bunch of losers on a fucking TV show. Jamie was an awful human being, true, but he was a fantastic players, with the makings of a truly great one, and yet he’d been perfectly happy to squander his totally undeserved talent and walk away from football, while Roy would have done any-fucking-thing for the chance to play just one more game—

Roy realized that he’d been clenching his fists hard enough to make his knuckles whiten. He  took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Jamie’s idiotic, inexplicable, upsetting decisions weren’t his problem. Hadn’t been his problem even when he followed the prick’s every move on the telly with a mixture of terrible glee and fury.

So lost, Keeley had called him.

Called both of them.

At least Jamie was back to playing football again. And at Richmond no less – Roy had wondered, just a little, how the team had greeted the return of their former star and bully. With appropriate scorn and a good many rough tackles, he fervently hoped, although from the looks of the games he’d watched, they all seemed on friendly enough terms now. Jamie was even passing to the others on a regular basis; it would seem he had caved to the Lasso way of doing things at last.

And in doing so, he’d lost some of what made him such a unique talent. It had been becoming more and more obvious with every game since he came back: he was second-guessing his instincts, hesitating when he should go for the kill, and favouring being a team player over scoring goals, to the point where he was passing up on shots Roy knew the little bastard could have nailed.

Jamie was a prick, and that had made him fucking insufferable to be around and the worst fucking teammate Roy had ever had the misfortune to work with, but it had also made him one hell of a player. As of now, he was good at best.

Roy’d fucking die before he let anyone hear him say that, though. For his pundit gig, he had taken to simply refusing to comment on Jamie’s performance, or even mention him at all. The other hosts had eventually learned to accept that, mostly because any needling invariably led to Roy digging into them instead.

Apparently put off by Roy’s silence, Jamie pouted. “Come one, man, why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because you don’t deserve it,” Roy said, automatically but meaning every word. And then, begrudgingly and because he suspected there was no getting out of this without exchanging at least a few words (and because he was just a little bit curious), he added, “The fuck are you even doing here?” This wasn’t a part of town he’d expect Jamie to frequent. Nowhere near where he lived, if he was still up in Richmond, and with too few clubs and designer shops.

For a moment, Jamie looked caught out, but then his eyes flickered to the sign above the counter. “I’m here to buy a, um, kebab.” He rolled his eyes like Roy was the one being dense. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Roy echoed, voice dripping with sarcasm. Enough of this farce. “Let me ask you something, Jamie, did fucking around on that TV show finally bruise your last two remaining brain cells enough for you to completely lose your fucking mind?” He snorted. “No wonder City dropped you.”

At that, Jamie’s eyes flashed dark. ”Fuck you, you twat!” he spat. “I’m trying to be nice here!” Genuine anger in his voice now, and wasn’t that a rare treat? One of the most infuriating thing about the little prick was that he never seemed to lose his fucking temper; he pushed and he pushed and he pushed, and when challenged he got in  your face and pushed some more, but he never let that cocksure composure slip.

It had pissed Roy off to no end back when they played together, and it was with a sense of dark triumph he twisted the knife now. “Yeah, and you’re as shit at it as you are at doing anything that isn’t kicking a ball or being a huge fucking pain in everyone’s arse.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and raising one eyebrow deliberately. “Lasso’s a moron for ever letting you back on that team.”

Privately, Roy had to admit that that last bit wasn’t true – for all Jaime’s (very, very many) faults, Ted would have been an idiot not to have him. But it seemed to hit the mark all the same, because Jamie paled with anger and he opened his mouth—

—only to snap it shut and spin around on his heel. He marched out of the restaurant, leaving Roy to shake his head after him in narrow-eyed bafflement.

Well, that had been fucking strange. Wait until he told Keeley—

Actually, no. That was a terrible idea, wouldn’t it? Chances were that Keeley’d either berate Roy for not being nicer (which was absurd because he hadn’t even punched the little twat and how much nicer than that could he reasonably be?), or that she’d go off spouting that outrageous fucking nonsense about him and Jamie being alike again, and honest to God, if that happened Roy might have to actually slit his own throat, and he’d be damned if he gave Jamie fucking Tartt the satisfaction of, however indirectly, being the one to take out Roy Kent.

So no telling Keeley, then. He’d go home and cook her a fantastic dinner instead, and he’d forget all about this weird fucking day and whatever weird fucking shit Jamie was up to. It was none of Roy’s concern and he wouldn’t waste another minute pondering it.

Pleased with this decision, Roy got up and utterly failed to follow through on it.

[me-writes-prompts]

:-"I sense some tension...and not the friends type." Friends to lovers prompts-:

(Y'alllll I could not help myself. I had to do more!!! Hehehe. Tag me if you guys write any of these :)

The 'just friends' kiss that they have to do as a dare but they both like it and can't stop thinking about it 👀

^^ "I mean, I kinda liked it, I guess..." but then they see their friend's smug face and cough, "I didn't mean it that way!" "Uh huh."

"You know...for someone who says they like me just as a friend, you sure do blush a lot in my presence. What's up with that?"

Going on DATES without realizing that they're doing couple-y things and someone casually commenting they're a cute couple (hehehe)

^^ "We are not a couple. I swear-" "Yeah, never. They're not even my type." "Yeah, same here." (sureeeee mhmm)

Hugs lasting a little longer than usual, and it gets all awkward because they are waiting for the other one to pull away, but neither of them wants to.

Always being extra affectionate with them(i.e. complimenting, playfully teasing, etc)

Communicating using only their eyes(AHHHH)

Pillow fights turning into tackling fights into blushing messes

^^ "It's not fair though! You never let me tickle you! :(" "You have to get close to me to do that." They say with a teasing lick of their lips and a grin. "I- shut up!"

Borrowing their clothes and never returning it just so you can be warm and cozy in them and feel like it's their arms wrapped around you>>>>>

Calling them the first thing when they have a bad day, because they know seeing the other will make it so much better

^^"Hard day?" They ask with a gentle smile when they come in. "Yeah." And that's all they need before they have a cuddle session with both of their favorite movie playing and them just snuggled up :'((((

"You look at them like they hung the stars." A silence. "They did so much then that, and I can't ever be grateful enough, even if I wished to." (angsttttyyy)

*Confessing* "I...I love you. I don't know if it's okay to fall in love with your best friend, but I love you. And it's fine, if you don't love me back, because loving you has been the easiest thing I've ever done, and I'd never stop loving you even if you didn't love me back." "You know what? It is okay to love your best friend, because that's what I've done as well. And I would've never know that you also love me, if you never said it. So let me say this, I love you too." (I am deceased, did i just wrote that?)

Cue the long, slow kiss and the tears that run down their cheeks while doing so. And they lived happily ever after!

[vldkeith]

02.29.2024 - happy birthday, shiro!! 🖤💜

best space dad ever and you were only 25. i hope retirement is treating you well ^_^

[blindmagdalena]

i'm thinking about john killing someone in front of his s/o, but that was about to kill them so his violent is seem a protectiveness. to be seem bloody and not be feared....

18+ 2.7k homelander x reader, established relationship, gore, blood, morally grey reader? shower sex, fingering, praise kink, breast play, dirty talk, rough sex, count down, needy/possessive/yandere HL, reader is nondescript with f!anatomy.

Homelander is breathing shallowly, eyes wide—wild—blood dripping from his chin and from the stray strands of hair that fell forward when he lunged. He's elbow deep in a man's sternum, and his other hand is wrapped tight around his broken neck, the bones like fragments of glass poking out from beneath rapidly cooling skin.

It all happened in an instant. One second, the man currently in his hands was grabbing you by the hair, a knife swinging wildly towards your throat, and the next he was dangling from Homelander's grasp, heart slowing against his knuckles.

He laughs through his teeth, licking his lips reflexively. The blood is sour, contaminated with god knows what, but that hardly takes away from the thrill of the moment.

It's been a while since he held the gaze of someone whose life he just claimed. Long enough that he forgets where he is, and who he's with.

He drops the man to the ground like a wet sack of potatoes, innards spilling out from the hole his arm leaves behind. In the man's hand, Homelander sees something that sets his teeth on fucking edge: strands of your hair ripped from your scalp in that limp, dead palm.

"You stupid motherfucker," he growls through a crooked sickly smile, lifting his boot to crush the hand like it were nothing more than an insect. The man's heart has long since stopped, but the rapid pound of another is still loud in his ears.

Yours.

Slowly, he turns around to look at you. You're cradling your skull where you'd been grabbed, tears gathering in your wide glassy eyes, the shock of it all catching up to you. You're staring intently at the corpse, watching blood pooling out from beneath it.

You've never looked at him with fear in your eyes before, but that's precisely what he sees when your eyes meet his. It makes him bristle internally. What was he supposed to do? You were in danger, and the way you screamed will follow him into his nightmares.

He could have lost you just now. You could be the one soaking in a puddle of your own blood, losing your life to the press of nothing more than a flimsy metal blade. While Homelander has always been logically aware of your humanity and the tender vulnerability that entails, nothing has ever put it so viscerally in the forefront of his mind as a freak incident coming so close to erasing you from his life.

He did what he had to. You'll understand. You have to understand.

"Hey," he says, hands raised to you placatingly, as if coaxing a spooked wild animal. The blood just makes his crimson gloves look glossy. He blocks your view of the body. "Hey, it's alright."

Your terror is palpable in the race of your heart and the sour smell of adrenaline coursing through you.

He reaches for you with the hand that isn't drenched in viscera, but before he can take hold, you beat him to the punch, throwing yourself into his arms, your own wrapping tight around his middle, hands clasping together beneath his cape.

Caught off guard, Homelander's arms hover awkwardly for a beat before he returns your embrace. He'd been certain that he was the source of your fear after a display like that.

"He just-he tried to kill me," you rasp, tears overflowing, spilling down your cheeks, wetting his suit further. "Yeah, yeah he sure did. S'alright, he's not gonna hurt you again," he coos, stroking your back with one bloodied hand, the other cupping the back of your neck. He kisses the top of your head as you cry, working the shock and fear from your system. "Ssshhh, shhshh."

Looking over his shoulder once, he lifts you up into his arms and takes off gently into the night sky, keeping you gathered close as he flies, carrying you far away from the mess spilled all over the pavement.

Not his problem. His focus is you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck, he can feel your tears rolling down into the collar of his suit, can smell the sea salt sweetness of them. He's never let you see that side of him before. When the shock wears off, will you see the moment for what it was?

Will you realize how much he enjoyed it?

Landing on his balcony, your arms are still tight around his neck. Neither of you have said a word since take off. He's not sure where your head is, other than the fact your racing heart has slowed to a more natural—albeit still nervous—patter.

Inside, he sets you down gently on your feet. Your balance wavers, and he settles you with his hands on your hips, staining your clothing with smears of dark blood.

He's almost afraid of breaking the tenuous quiet, but he needs to know where your head is. When you glance away, are you looking towards the door, planning your escape?

His hands tighten reflexively on your hips, and your eyes spring back up to meet his.

"You okay?" He asks quietly, warily.

"Yeah," you say, though it's hardly convincing.

"You're in shock," he says, touching the side of your face. Enough of the blood has been wiped on your clothes that it doesn't transfer much to your skin. "You remember what happened?"

Maybe your distress will leave you malleable enough for him to shape the incident just right. Make sure that you remember first and foremost that- "You saved me," you say, cutting his thoughts short. "That man was trying to hurt me, and you... you saved me."

His brows lift, surprised to hear you say it first. "Yeah. Course I did."

"You were so..." You trail off, gaze moving along his features.

Apprehension prickles from his spine all the way up to the back of his neck. He's accustomed to being scolded for his brutality by Madelyn, or looked on with thinly veiled disgust by Maeve.

They're both long gone from his life now, yet he finds himself waiting with bated breath for your response, his throat tight under the gripping hands of the ghosts of his past.

"Amazing," you exhale, banishing his specters with the sweeping wind of your breath. "God, I've never been that scared in my life, but you reacted so fast. No one has ever protected me like you do," you say, cupping his blood spattered face in your palms, smearing it into thin pink swaths across his skin with your thumbs.

He breaks into a slow, pleased smile. "Well, you've never been with anyone like me before."

"No," you agree. He can still feel a slight tremor in your hands, your body still coming down from the adrenaline high. "And I never will."

That strokes his ego deliciously. He likes the finality in your voice, the dreamy way you're looking at him, even as the smell of blood hangs heavily in the air. He almost kisses you before he remembers he's got the blood of some random thug all over his face.

"I need a shower," he says, lips close enough that his breath teases yours.

"Me too. Guess we'll have to share," you say, feigning resignation.

He grins. "Uh oh."

In the bathroom, Homelander makes quick work of undressing, but you're faster. You're already in the large shower, steaming water pouring down from above. He steps in with you, letting the water wash over you both. The water turns pink as it carries the blood away, and then sudsy as you both soap and shampoo the mess of the day from you bodies.

Once he's rinsed, he slips in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I love you," he says at your ear, trailing kisses down to the lobe, to your neck. He loves the feel of goosebumps rising against his lips.

"I love you, too," you respond as you have a thousand times before. Maybe more. He stopped counting when he was sure you'd never stop.

"How much?" He prompts, hungry for more. Your praise and assurance after a moment of such uncertainty has only made him desperate for more. He wants to wring more pretty words of admiration from you, hear more of just how good he is to you.

He can't help but color your answer with a slip of his hand between your thighs, toying with your clit.

The touch earns a shivering sigh from you. "So much. More than I can stand sometimes," you say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"I thought you'd be scared of me after seeing what you saw... What I'm capable of," he murmurs, pillowing the reminder with deft, wet fingers. "Are you?"

You shake your head. "No, m'not, mmm... You'd never hurt me," you say, breath hitching as his fingers slip in further, fingertips stroking the lips of your pussy.

"Never," he echoes, his other hand slotting over your throat just to feel each noise you make. He pulls you back flush to his body, presses his hardening cock to the curve of your ass with his a shaky groan. "I liked it," you admit quieter, moaning when he slides his middle finger inside you. The confession stirs something primal in him, makes him growl out a rough little noise against your skin, grinding his cock into you.

"I wanted to rip his fucking guts out for touching you," he says, working another finger into you, savoring the slick, velvet feel of you around them. "For trying to take you from me." His words make your cunt quiver. He can't help himself, has to pull them from you just to taste you, sucking the nectarine sweet flavor from his fingers, rolling his tongue between them, hungry for every ounce of it.

He moans around his own fingers when you reach back and take his cock firmly in your hand, jerking him slowly. "I want you inside me," you say, your legs spreading slightly, back arching into him. "Touch me until yours is the only one I remember."

Fuck. Yes, that he can do.

You let go of his cock, and he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding himself between your wet, soft thighs. You close your legs, earning a breathy noise from him as he rocks between them, the warm, wet heat of your cunt a tease along the top of his cock.

"Take me," he murmurs fervently at your ear. "Wanna be in you, feel you, fuck you, make your pussy mine."

Shuddering against him, you reach down between your legs. Pressing your fingers to the underside of his cock, you push it up as he moves forward, the thick head of it catching on your entrance and splitting you open in one long, slow thrust.

Christ, you're so fucking tight. He can feel your muscles contracting, flexing, pulling him deeper. Your cunt feels made for him.

No one will ever take you away from him.

His right hand goes across your chest, cupping your left breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger while he braces you tighter to him. He rolls his hips slowly at first, relishing the tight, slippery pull of your cunt before he begins to pick up a proper pace.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He grits out, the slap of naked skin against skin loud in the shower. "Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels like being fucked by the fucking sun," you moan, gripping his arms, useless for anything other than taking his cock when he holds you like this. "Hot, you're so hot inside me, and I can feel... I can feel you holding back, it's like you're vibrating," you say, voice catching with every solid thrust. "It's like... it's like getting as much as I can take from something so much bigger than me."

He doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it isn't that. The idea that you can feel the true gravity of his power behind each restrained thrust drives him wild, makes him want to give you more, but he knows he can't. Not without breaking you. Sweet, frail, human thing that you are.

If he could, he would break you apart, fuck you until you fall to pieces in his hands, and then he would put every single fragment back where it belongs, but he can't. If he breaks you, he will lose you.

He needs you to survive him.

"Fuck, fuck," he rasps, holding you that slight bit tighter, lifting you nearly off your feet as he arches his back, lifting and dropping you onto every thrust of his hips. "M'gonna come," he says, voice reedy. "Come with me, let me feel you. I know you're close, can fuckin' feel it. Touch yourself for me, sweetheart."

Immediately, you drop a hand to your clit, the tips of your fingers brushing where he's pounding into you. The touch must be electric because you jolt against him. "I am, I am," you whine, rubbing yourself, the pleasure making you squirm.

"M'gonna count us down, alright? And you, mmmgh, you're gonna come with me," he says, already fighting to hold himself back. Your cunt is only getting tighter the closer to release you get, making it hard for him to stay focused.

"Five... four," he manages to say, desperately holding onto his final tethers of control. You're beyond speech now, reduced to nothing more than desperate, needy noises as you finger your clit, not even bothering to try and hold yourself up while Homelander mercilessly bounces you on his cock,

"Three... two..." His words are strained, balls drawn up tight, cock throbbing in the slick grip of your cunt. He needs to come so bad it makes his toes curl, but he won't let go until he feels you coming undone.

"One..."

One, two, three more thrusts, and you're screaming his name, knees curling up, your whole body tightening like a vice. The spasm of your orgasm rips his clean out of him, has him gasping into the crook of your neck.

He comes so hard his vision goes white, every movement halting, his focus purely on the ardent pounds of his cock emptying deep inside you, flooding you so thoroughly that the excess spill back down his shaft, his balls, mingling with the hot water and making him shiver from head to toe.

When he can, he takes in a deep, shuddering breath, easing his hold on you, though not by much. You're all but limp in his arms, panting, head lolled back against his shoulder. He lets the water run on the two of you a little while longer, savoring the aftershocks of your release before gingerly slipping out of you.

Carefully, he rubs the water between your thighs, tenderly cleaning you, kissing your neck, your shoulder.

"That was..." You trail off, words half slurred, and then you just laugh softly, the marvel clear in your voice.

He laughs, too, his own voice frayed. "Sure was."

The two of you put as much effort as it takes to get dry before making your way to bed, slipping beneath the cool sheets and rapidly warming them with your bodies, Homelander's in particular. He's always run hot, and you seem extra appreciative for it tonight, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his arms.

"I love you," you mumble sweetly.

Homelander draws the covers up over your shoulders before slipping his arm around you, drawing you into the warm, safe circle of his arms. "And I love you," he purrs, gently rolling his knuckles up and down your back.

You look peaceful, he thinks, watching as you begin to drift to sleep. He's sure it helps that he wore you out so thoroughly, but still, he'd anticipated that the shock of the evening would still have you worked up. It could be that you're still processing, that the trauma will return in nightmares that follow you into the night.

Maybe the threat of a rat simply makes less of an impact when you're cradled in the jaws of a lion.

Regardless, should you sleep fitfully or peacefully, he will be here.

No force in this would can keep him from you.

[imababblekat]

Medic reader who’s part of a small team sent in with others to clear out a compound so the more specialized forces can go in and do their classified work, except in the heat of everything medic reader gets separated and ends up on their own. They accidentally find their way into a secret lab and are attacked by a scientist that had been hiding, having something injected in them before taking the enemy out. Suddenly they feel very sick and dizzy, but just before passing out a small team of four come rushing in, sounding aggravated when they radio back to whoever that their target, presumably the now dead scientist, has been neutralized so they wouldn’t be able to take them prisoner. Medic reader tries to get their attention but can only groan in ill pain, their vision blurring in and out as one of the men order two to guard the door while he and another come rushing over to confirm they’ve got an alive friendly. One of the men is checking them over for injuries while the one closest to them, with a firm voice, is ordering them to hang on and stay with them, but just as medic reader is about to pass out, the last thing they note as they’re being lifted up by strong arms, is the TF 141 patch on their saviors uniform.

[welcometogrouchland]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

[egg-noodle]

Locations, a tour around Garreg Mach Monastery, was a little digital fanbook I made in 2021 with the help of some lovely writers who are credited in the first image. It originally started as me doodling characters requested by my followers and somehow ended up as a full fanbook haha.

If you enjoy it, then you can grab a pdf from my shop over here.

[kismets-barista]

Lil Brozone, Floyd- centric oneshot for y'all's enjoyment!

Spoilery for Band Together, so if you're still awaiting watching the movie I'd suggest waiting to read, my friends! Have a lovely night!

Five months, twenty eight days.

That’s how long it had taken him to be able to walk without having to stop for breath.

Floyd was fully recovering, slowly but surely. After moving back to Pop Village, there’d been nothing for him except plenty of rest, John Dory’s incessant mother henning (seriously, that guy was the textbook definition of Anxiety even if he continued to deny it,) and help from his brothers to recuperate. They’d laid off on any public performances, putting aside thoughts of the word tour for later on. Way later on. 

But today was the day. Finally the day they’d decided to put on a public performance, a day that had all of them on their toes with preparations for the five song ‘concert.’ The energy buzzing in the air was something Floyd had missed, but the troll could honestly barely concentrate on how excited he was as his chest filled with sticky, sludgy feelings of dread. The magenta-haired troll sat in front of his light-rimmed vanity mirror, staring back at the shock of white that ran from the roots of his hair and up to the middle. 

He thought he’d gotten over this. 

It wasn’t going to change. It was evident that his hair, along with himself, had permanently changed as a result of that capture. Of his death. 

And pretty much everyone in the village knew that it was a result of something. A bad something. 

Some of them, Cooper specifically, had outright asked. But he didn’t have the best buffer, so Floyd couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad. Others had given him looks, even staring as he began to get out of the house those first months. He could remember the eyes trained on him as John Dory slowly helped him along, talking about an adventure he’d gone on way ‘back in his day,’ as he liked to call it. Floyd had kept to himself, mostly, until John Dory noticed how quiet his brother was being and did something the younger couldn’t.

He stared back at the trolls. Sure, it probably planted the seeds of assumption that John Dory was every bit as standoffish as Branch used to be, but Floyd had to admire his brother’s determination to keep him comfortable. 

“Ten minutes til final soundchecks!” Mayday (Brozone’s stage director’s) voice cut through the silence, and Floyd jerked out of his reverie. He sighed, opening the drawer to his desk and fished through a thousand hair products and ties to pull out a fluffy, white scrunchy. Maybe pulling it up would help lessen the… amount of times people had to see his hair. Floyd let out another sigh as he pulled up his hair, staring himself down in the mirror as he twisted it every which way. “Come on… there’s gotta be some way I can make you look normal again,” he whispered fiercely, tugging on his hair harder as desperation bubbled in his chest. Every way he moved it, white, white, white. The young troll’s hands began to shake as he started to tie it up, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his breathing shortened. 

How could he go out there looking like this? It’s bad enough as it is, why did he think for a second that today would be any different with how he felt about this… this awful hair of his? 

He considered flaking on his brothers as his breaths began to come out in short gasps. A thousand different excuses flitted through his mind, and Floyd began to grasp at them, one by one. He wasn’t feeling well. He was exhausted again. He couldn’t catch his breath quite right - no, that one would send them into a panic, probably. The thoughts crescendoed, and Floyd yanked on the scrunchie a bit too hard. It snapped, and rebounded on his hand. Causing the duo-tone haired-troll to yelp in pain. He flicked his head in the air, waving off the sting before letting his head sink down to rest on the top of the vanity. He was getting himself way too worked up… this wasn’t going to help anything. He needed to do this show. Needed to prove that he was… fine. Well. As fine as he could be.

“This is for all the lonely people…” he whisper-sang to himself, voice breathy as he steadied his pounding heart. Pulling on his fingers gently. “Thinking that life has passed us by…”

“We won’t give up until we, drink from that silver cup, and ride…” Floyd’s voice tapered off as he frowned, momentum to sing even to himself puttering off. Today was supposed to be a happy day. But here he slumped, moping like someone had just kicked a box of kittens in front of him.

“Ride that highway in the sky.” The lyric lifted softly as a question, and the troll sat up and looked behind himself in confusion. His face lit up at the sight of Branch, his baby brother leaning against the doorframe with his arms loosely crossed against each other.

“Oh, Branch. Hey.” Floyd offered him a grin, to which his younger brother readily responded with one of his own. 

“Hey. Was looking for you. JD wanted us to have a little meeting or whatever before our final soundchecks for the show so I came to get you. How’re you feeling?” He asked while walking over, sitting near his brother. Taking in everything about the older troll, inquisitive blue eyes flitting over the top of Floyd’s hair and down to his toes.

“I’m fine,” Floyd shrugged, stretching as he stood. Paused as he realized that saying ‘I’m fine’ was not an appropriate response, as Branch had told him so many times before. Practically drilled it into his head, at this point. He cut Branch off before his younger brother could say anything by shaking his head and letting out a loud “I meant- I meant that I’m feeling really good. I’m excited for the show, I slept plenty last night so I’m not tired, and I stretched this morning so I’m not achy like I usually am when I wake up.”

He could visibly see Branch’s tightly-wound demeanor relax, and the younger troll stood to join his brother as they headed out of the dressing room.

“Great. Now come on. They’re not too far away.”

And it was only when they made it into the break room, overstuffed couches laden with throw pillows and the ground practically made of mismatched rugs that Floyd realized all of his brothers had hair caps on. They’d happily yelled out his name when he walked in, and Branch had guided the troll over to a couch to sit down before nodding at JD, who’d been chuckling at the fact that Floyd was staring at them as if they all had grown second heads. 

“How ya feelin’, bro-bro? Ready for BroZone’s big debut into Pop Village?”

“Well, when you put it like that, admittedly nervous. But excited, all the same. I’ve missed singing with you all, truly.” He smiled up at his older brothers, who, upon hearing that, all exchanged a look. They nodded at each other, and Bruce took a deep breath while reaching up to the cap covering his hair.

“Well, buddy, we’ve got a bit of a pre-show gift for you,” he started.

“We know how much your hair means to you, and how hard the change has been on you,” Clay continued.

“So we wanted to do a little something just to remind you that you aren’t alone, with how you’re feeling. No matter how hard it may be at times,” Branch finished, and all four of them pulled off their hair caps after JD counted down from three.

And Floyd instantly burst into tears.

Streaking through each of their hair was bold white streaks, the color dyed at the roots of their hair and stretching up and up, just like Floyd’s. It looked natural- how did they do that? 

A million thoughts were running through his mind, but Floyd couldn’t grasp at a single one as the tears continued to pour down his face. He reached out to them, and his brothers were all surrounding him, hugging him tightly. 

“Surprise,” Branch sang softly, and Floyd grabbed onto his arm, squeezing it tightly as he hugged him. He was making his best attempt to hug everyone, which, seeing as it was four full-grown trolls was a bit hard- but the appreciative smile that was plastered onto his face like the sun piercing through a veil of thick clouds was hard to miss. He continued to cry into the hug, emotions overwhelming him as he went from sobs, to weeping that had the four of them pulling him down from the couch and to the ground and up into their arms. 

It took him a few minutes to pull himself together enough to wipe his eyes, but when he did, Floyd gave his brothers the most grateful look he could manage. He didn’t expect to see them crying, too, but it was clear that he’d affected them by crying so hard- and, the fact that they’d already been having a hard time keeping it together even before surprising him with the monumental change. Trolls didn’t just dye their hair- tinsel and extensions were normal in Pop Village but to physically change it like that? It was almost taboo.

“Man, I love you guys so much. I can’t believe you’d just… do that. For me. It means… it means so much.” His voice wavered as he broke down into tears again, but forced himself to reel it in as John Dory patted his back with a big grin.

“Believe it, bro. We’d go to the ends of the earth for you, this wasn’t nothin’ but a stone’s throw across the water if you ask me.”

“What’d I do to deserve such good brothers?” Floyd laughed tearfully, and Clay ruffled his hair gently. “Some would say you were born into this family. And that’s how you got such good brothers.”

The younger troll laughed, taking his brother’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Okay, that was a little cheesy,” Floyd chuckled. “But I gotta ask, who…”

“It was John Dory’s idea,” Bruce boasted proudly for the older troll, who’s ears turned bright red as he looked away.

“Dah, anything for my little brother,” he tried to play it off. But Floyd wasn’t having any of that. The younger troll dove into his older brother, pulling him into a hug. He was followed by his four other brothers, who practically dogpiled him and fell on top of each other. A stunned silence befell the brothers before they burst into laughter, and Floyd could feel a massive weight he didn’t even know that was sitting on his chest lift and dissipate. And he knew right then and there that no matter how down he was feeling about himself, how bad everything could get at times, he would always have his brothers to rely on. There were going to be much, much brighter days ahead.

“I love you guys. So much.” “We love you too, Floyd. Don’t you forget it.”

And he wouldn’t. He never would. 

[formerprincewille]

Something that really sets Wille and Simon apart from other queer ships is that when we say their love language is physical touch, IT REALLY IS PHYSICAL TOUCH. And I’m not speaking of just sex. Over the course of the show, the amount of touching between them is astronomical. And that’s really something rarely seen in queer media. There may be moments here or there, but often times there’s a lack of physical contact unless it’s for “the plot”. Wille and Simon feel like a real couple in the way they’re always physically reaching out for each other.

[lilacpaperbird]

About Sam's music taste

Okay so I've always been really intrigued by the kind of music Sam might like, since we seemingly didn't get much information about it in the show. So I did a deep dive, and this is everything I could find/remember in relation to Sam and his taste in music:

Kripke, interview from 2007

From the Supernatural Wiki - There's a small mistake here. I checked the video and Jared said "Jack Johnson", not "Jackson"

Good catch, thanks anon whoever you are! - I checked and yep there it is! I added a pic of the poster so you could see what it looks like

11x04 Baby - Sam knows the lyrics to the song "Night Moves" and sings it enthusiastically, like he did with "Dead or Alive" in 3x16

14x20 Moriah

Bands/singers mentioned:

Green Day

Red Hot Chili Peppers

Fall Out Boy

The Killers

Jack Johnson

Death Cab for Cutie

Jason Manns

Bon Jovi

A Wilhem Scream

Bob Seger

Elvis Presley

Celine Dion

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 31!!

July 31st, final part <3

Age - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1079

First part Previous part

Protective arms hung over his shoulders, moving his fingers softly and adjusting his arms onto the guitar in his hands into the perfect position. This had been his morning, the golden sun shone in lines through the blinds, every other second catching his eye and all he could see was sunlight for a few moments.

A breath so close to his neck flushed him from his shoulders to the tips of his once pale skinned ears.

"One, two, three." His favourite voice whispered. "There you go." As beautiful music flowed from the instrument. 

"Why did you bring a guitar?" Regulus snorted after a few seconds, looking up at James through adoring eyes and new found fantasies. 

"I left it in my car, thought I may as well bring it in." He shrugged, hands still around the younger man - who just hummed in response and continued to brush his fingers against the rough guitar strings. Normally he wouldn't persist this long, but when James had his arms around Regulus like that, he'd stay here forever and do anything James asked of him.

Shortly after, the arms unwound themselves and he instantly felt full of empty and cold. He let out a whine of annoyance, twisting his head up and glaring at James. "What?" James laughed. "You've got the hang of it now."

"No I haven't." He lied, attempting to play a horrible chord on the guitar. "I need more help."

An eyebrow raise. "Do you?"

He only nodded, placing the guitar down on the floor and folding his arms stubbornly as he watched the smile become harder to fight away from James' stunning face. 

He finally broke, tackling Regulus into a hug and knocking them both onto the bed behind them, laughs and giggled breaking out between the two as Regulus smiled more than he feels he ever has in his life. 

Kisses tattooed his neck, hands massaged his hip bones and lips smiled into his own. Eyes opened in front of his, hazel meeting grey in the light of the sun. Yet one could see the green decorating the brown, and the other counted every speck of blue in those grey eyes - every single detail.

-

A splash in the water snapped Regulus from his daze, James was grinning, hair wet and stuck to his forehead yet still looking perfect. Lips twisted around soft words as he beckoned Regulus to come and join him with grabby hands and an utterly adorable pout.

"Jamie-"

"You can hold onto me?" James smiled as he approached Regulus, who sat on the pier with crossed legs and a book in his hands, finally letting go and smiling the smile he'd been hiding behind built up walls since he met James. Those walls fell, crumbled, disappeared as he got closer to the brunette.

He sighed. "Okay." He spoke through his smile as wet James' hands slipped onto his waist and pulled him into the water, swirling him around and kissing his shoulder while Regulus laughed and wrapped his legs around his love.

Quickly, James plunged under the water, keeping a hold on Regulus' cold arms as he did so. The man tugged ever so slightly, encouraging Regulus to join him. As he sank lower into the water, he felt the ice liquid prick at every bit of skin on his body like needles, but that soon went away when he opened his eyes and felt a hand on his cheek.

Air bubbles shaped like pearls fell from both of their smiling, swollen, kissed lips as James laughed out a chuckle that was silenced by the water surrounding them almost like it was protecting the two men.

Pulling on the gold chain around James' marked neck, he kissed James like he was the only oxygen left in this world, the only healer for the pain that he once had, the only warmth in this cold arctic or the only light in a dark room that was Regulus Black. 

-

"Can we stay like this forever?"

"In this moment?" Regulus questioned.

James nodded, resting his head on Regulus' shoulder. Both gazed out at the sunset, at the way it reflected onto the water and bounced back into their wanting eyes. Regulus' eyes would flick between the actual sun, and his sun - he much preferred the second one. Because his sun had one thing the real one didn't have, a heart so loving it threatened to break Regulus in two.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Let's stay like this forever." Combing his hand through messy hair, he pressed a soft kiss into the brunette's waves and finally took a moment to look around at where they were.

This is the part of the pier where Regulus sat on his first day at camp, sulking and cursing at the sky, because why must this decide his fate? He didn't want it - he didn't think he wanted it anyway - turns out that there was always a part of him that loved James Potter, he was just too blind to see it.

But now, touching, feeling and loving the boy with the golden frames seemed to knock him off his feet in a way not even Shakespeare could explain. His view on everything, everyone, himself and James included, changed so much - certainly for the better.

He watched his sunlight breathe, he felt his heartbeat under his hands, his heat radiating like a replica of the sun on Regulus' bare shoulder. He would indeed take the sun in his hands, not caring if it burnt him, because the feeling in the moment was so amazing he doesn't think he's ever planning on letting go.

"I love you." He whispered into the breeze that blew on both of the boys.

"I love you more." The brunette lifted his head to look at Regulus, smiling a soft smile at the boys fond face. A pair of lips pressed into his, adoring, caring, careful, loving, healing lips.

He ran his tongue along James' bottom lip, stroking the older mans neck as he pressed their foreheads together with a tilt to his forever loved and joyed lips. "Not possible."

And this was it, he would forever keep this man. He never thought he needed much sunlight to survive, but James proved him entirely wrong. Now that he knows what it feels like to finally have someone as wonderful as James Potter warm his once slow beating heart, he would be ever so stupid to let that man go, not even after they're both aged and gone.

After all, James is his sunlight, and Regulus is his star.

[thjslove]

house md · season 4 You spend your whole life looking for answers… Because you think the next answer will change something, maybe make you a little less miserable. And you know that when you run out of questions, you don't just run out of answers. You run out of hope. You glad you know that?

[mollysunder]

For once I actually went through the Arcane AMA and found those quotes about Silco's motivation. It's kind of wild to see it in full context.

First, I didn't even know the "dirty little thing" insecurity was an agreed upon perspective, I just thought it was one writer's opinion but no, Christian Linke (Praeco) let us know that was Silco's thing. Ok. I can see how that can tie in to how Silco and Jinx connected, personal insecurities from a hard life.

But then Amanda Overton (leeloo104) goes into detail.

I already know the creative team said they don't think political struggle is "relatable" (yikes), but I've never seen this extra tidbit before!

What do you mean this all so Vander will respect Silco again?!!??!? First of all I could really go in about how Arcane's team seem incapable of having any character fully articulate an actual in-depth explanation about on their grievances with the status quo and what changes should be applied that isn't somehow about familial validation. *looks at Jinx*

Instead, we need unpack how this motivation is at best, very weird, or flat out doesn't make sense. The quote makes it sound like Zaun was fully Silco's idea to win back Vander's love and respect, but Silco said a free Zaun was their shared dream. And regaining Vander's respect seems like a moot point when Silco killed Vander.

Unless Silco knows Vander isn't dead, and that Singed's been slowly turning Vander into Warwick. But then why does he talk to the Vander statue like Vander is dead? I don't doubt Silco wouldn't visit Warwick even in Warwick's confused state. Either way, the Vander that Silco wanted to receive validation from doesn't exist anymore.

I get that they probably wanted to connect Silco's motivation to Jinx's obsession with Vi, but that can be problematic too! It just ends up where Silco and Jinx are written in a way where their search for emotional validation takes precedence over any attempt for them to communicate a coherent and detailed observation on the surrounding politics of their environment.

It would be one thing if they were minor characters, or this was just related to Jinx because she's the youngest in the cast and her story is about understanding who she is. But it's both of them, Silco's at least in his forties, and they're a part of the main cast. On top of that, I'd say their the two most politically influential Zaunites in the cast, and we know NOTHING about what they stand for, what they think the future should look like. Nothing, just vibes.

[blackhholes]

teen wolf meme: [1/6] creatures -> berserkers

You ever heard of the Berserkers? Germanic warriors. They wore the skins of bears to channel their ferocity. They didn't just wear them- they became them. [...] With Berserkers, the human side doesn't last long-- they're not tempered by the moon.

[diamondsheep]

The Mighty Wano Tiger 🐯⚔

This is my illustration for @opanimalszine, i really loved being part of this beautiful Zine 💚

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

thank you to an odd textual mystery for kaveh hangout fulfilment!! kaveh and alhaitham dually creating a conspiracy because of their teenage habit of writing in books is something so deep and personal to me

kaveh initially circles the killer's name out of habit of annotating, but does so in permanent ink, not beating the urchin of kshahrewar allegations, creating a spoiler for the next reader

but without a second circle to create a red herring, courtesy of alhaitham, the conspiracy wouldn't have been started, but,,, alhaitham only draw the circle in the first place because he looked at a book that kaveh was interested in... this sounds.... familiar....

we've come full circle?? but now the two graffitiing in books is silly and doesn't have the potential to create a fall out because they can now talk it out!! <3333