#can't get enough of this idiot

[hunniegl4zed]

Trash can babygurl at his best 💅✨

Couldn't sleep so have a little silly in the meantime~ 💚💚 Saw @retrospectii's Beetlejuice Scourge and it gave me so many nostalgic feelings for ''The Ghost with the Most''~ Joined by his bestie Amy Deetz on his wacky adventures 👻 Based his design from the old cartoon of 1989-1991. Might do some rework, but it was hella fun ~

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Tis but a flesh wound!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[meltovv]

and then they fuck or something

[honnelander]

How did Sanji and reader meet the first time? What did they think of each other at first impression 👀?

hmm interesting question! i feel like it would go a little something like this (in my main "mutual pining" series):

You had originally joined the crew back in the beginning with Luffy, Nami, and Zoro when they were going up against Buggy. Since helping them slice that clown pirate down to size, you were a straw hat.

You never particularly had a dream of your own or knew where you wanted to be, but once you met Luffy and his endless optimism and kindness?? You knew it then: you had found your people.

So when did you meet Sanji? At the same time as everyone else, at the Baratie.

After Nami slipped the host some berry to get your crew a table, you all made your way down to the main dining area. Watching Zoro struggle to slide into the booth because of his swords was practically the funniest thing you've ever seen so you couldn't help the laughter that came out of you and in turn, that made the rest of the straw-hats all join you in poking fun at Zoro and laugh your asses off (much to Zoro's chagrin).

"Fuck you guys," Zoro muttered as he gave each member of the crew their own personal death glare.

When the swordsman locked eyes with you for your own personal Zoro Death Glare, you couldn't help but laugh louder.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, everyone's favorite blonde-haired chef was busy making the infamous bluefin tuna special that led to him getting kicked out to wait tables that particular night.

As Sanji put the final touches on his off-the-menu special, wiped the edges of the plate clean, and confidently strode to the front of the line, all while bantering with Patty, he felt on top of the world.

Until Zeff crapped all over his dish and kicked him off the line.

"Fucking old man," Sanji snarled under his breath as he pushed the kitchen doors to the dining room a little more harsh than necessary.

As he walked into the dining room, slinging his suit blazer over his shoulders, he was fuming...until he heard a loud chorus of laughter come from his right. He looked up in curiosity as he buttoned his blazer in the little alcove next to the kitchen and scanned the dining room. Baratie was a more upscale, fine dining experience (especially for pirates), so for a table of guests to laugh as loud as he was hearing was certainly new to the cook. Whoever they were, they definitely must not be from around here.

His blue eyes immediately went to the table nearest to him, table eight, where he had his eyes set on the pretty blonde woman earlier in the night in hopes that she was the one laughing loudly but, no she wasn't. When he took the plate of pastries and took a few steps into the dining room, he heard the laughter towards his right and immediately looked that way with a cool gaze.

And the sight he was met with nearly took his breath away. At table ten, he saw the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen: you. There you were, sitting there at the table, laughing your ass off at the green-haired guy next to you, laughing so hard you were hitting the table with your fist, not a care in the world. It looked like everyone else at your table was laughing along with you, all except for mosshead (a stick in the mud, Sanji thought with a scoff).

Only one thought occupied his mind now, not Zeff, not the bluefin special, not being kicked out of the kitchen, just: you. You and your infectious laugh.

Everything after that happened in a blur. The two pirates at table eight both stood up enraged, yelling insults back and forth along with threats to kill each other, ripping Sanji's attention away from you and pissing him off all over again.

Could anything go right today?

Once he kicked those two pirates unconscious, he then smoothed out his suit jacket, let out a small exhale of satisfaction, and picked up the plate of pastries again. As he strode over to your table, he put on his most charming smile and placed the pastry plate right down on your table like nothing had just happened.

And to be fair? Pirates fighting did happen all the time, that was just another typical Tuesday night at the Baratie.

But meeting you? That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and he'd do anything to hear you laugh and see your gorgeous smile light up that pretty face of yours again.

He stared right at you as he said, "Good evening, and welcome to our shitty little restaurant: the Baratie."

At his tone and choice of words, you couldn't help but look at your extremely attractive waiter in surprise and confusion and let out a surprised laugh. Didn't he work here?

He kept going though but his charming smile only widened at hearing your laugh, his smile reaching his eyes as he said, "My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?"

And in that moment, without the other person's knowledge, you were smitten with each other.

Taglist: @smolracoon25

[saddybildaddy]

[basilbots]

Ruin: Ugh you lot are so uncooperative it makes it so hard to help you Moon: We didn't ask for your help??? Ruin: Ruin: Anyway so here's what we're going to do so your family doesn't fucking die-

[captain-rickbond]

faces of Larry

[rockingrobin69]

Food for thought

“I’m so glad you came,” Potter said with that look on his face. Draco felt himself clam, go small-small-small until his nose barely cleared the line of his shoulders.

“It’s,” he tried through a too-dry mouth, “no problem, really. Happy I could help.”

“I don’t know why it keeps doing that,” scratching the back of his neck with those big Potter-hands. The grandfather clock had been in the Black house for centuries. Now it was showing the right time again, and also, conveniently, no longer throwing darts at bystanders. “I swear it was working this morning.”

“Truly, a mystery.” Draco levelled a scathing glance at Pansy, who was sitting at the counter with a far-too-neutral expression. “Pans, if you wouldn’t mind, a word?”

He dragged her out to the corridor, only barely not by the ear. She had the audacity to smile. “Everything all right, dear?”

“None of that,” in a heated whisper. “That’s the third, Pans. How many times would you break Potter’s things just to have him call me?”

“If you’d bothered calling him yourself, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Pansy Parkinson!”

“Draco Malfoy.” Examining her fingernails with an exaggerated yawn. “Are you suggesting I’m messing with my own colleague? I would never.”

He rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt. “You’re not fooling anyone. Did you forget I actually know you? Potter does too. Soon enough he’ll figure out—”

“That he simply must take you on a date? I’d hoped so, yes.” With a cheeky wink: “Got to go, my show’s about to start. We’ll catch up later, yes? Still on for drinks on Friday?” and she left, the corridor and a flushed, slightly hyperventilating Draco, alone in Potter’s place.

“Erm, Draco?” from the kitchen. “I think I might’ve made too much pasta. Stay for dinner?”

Oh, he’s going to kill that woman.

After dinner, that is.

*

“You’re a life-saver,” Potter murmured, pretty mouth hanging open. On the sofa, Seamus was smiling so smugly, Draco could punch him.

Didn’t. Stood there, made himself small and wished to be not-here, not-now. “It really was no problem. The windows should shut properly now. Have you tried,” but it was useless, he knew why the windows were jammed, and it wasn’t poor maintenance.

His ‘friends’ were just out to get him.

Suppose they thought it was funny? Suppose… Draco didn’t know. Tried to curtail his mortification at being summoned here, again, in another attempt to humiliate him.

That’s what they were doing, right? That’s what this was all about. They knew how he felt about Potter, nothing was more obvious. It was there in pub nights and on their stupid hikes and that time they all went to the beach, it was in Draco’s eyes, in his hands always reaching out, never touching.

“Thanks,” Potter said, for the third time. “You’re so… It’s really fucking kind of you to. Take care of me.”

Startled, “I don’t—it’s just your windows, Potter. There’s no reason to get all sentimental.”

A loud noise: Seamus, snorting. “You boys are such a mess.” Shaking his head. “Anyway, this was fun. See you two Saturday!” and he disappeared, cartoon-quickly.

(Draco’s been watching cartoons recently. Mostly with Potter, late at night after their friends would leave; sometimes by himself, wearing the jumper he’d stolen and feeling rather pathetic).

“Are you by any chance hungry?” Potter asked from a surprisingly-short distance. He was right there, close enough to touch. Tittering on his tip-toes, like he had any reason to be nervous. “It’s only, I’ve ordered far too much food, and Seamus just. Erm. Left.”

Draco folded inwards, made himself as small as possible, so it won’t start leaking out, all this… foolishness. It was stupid. It would break his heart.

He stayed anyway.

*

“Thank you so much,” Potter rubbed his eyes, this half-grin on his awful, handsome face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this house. I think it hates me.”

“I think someone does,” with a murderous look to Ginevra, who not only smirked, but also made a point of coming to see for herself. The cooker had stopped frying everything to a crisp, and should be safe to use again. Big whoop.

“That’s some quick spellwork,” she hit his shoulder far too hard. “Didn’t know you were so good with these.”

“Really,” incredulous. “You didn’t know.”

“And how lucky, that Malfoy could come over so quickly?” she looked between Potter and him. “Maybe you should move in. Easier for the next time something bends out of shape.”

Draco didn’t splutter, because he was an adult, but he must have looked rather pinched. “There won’t be a next time.”

“I’m so sorry,” Potter sounded miserable, standing there in his too-tight Quidditch top and those joggers that always rode too low, “god, Draco, I’m sorry I—”

“No!” he cleared his throat, had no hope of clearing his face of that awful, telling blush. “No, it’s absolutely fine. I don’t mind! I meant, I hope your things stop breaking all the time for no reason.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it. I, erm, accidentally made too much curry, so—Gin, you were saying you can’t stay?”

Draco’s belly made a terrible gurgle. Oh, he’s going to kill all of them. Closing his eyes, he missed some of the encounter, and probably an evil grin from Ginevra.

“Draco?” Potter came closer, and he smelled like lemongrass and thyme, and like Potter, and like summer, “Would, erm, would you like to stay for dinner?”

Why were the gods testing him this way? He tried to go small-small-small till he wasn’t noticeable anymore, but Potter was too close and Draco’s heart was crushed open. The weight of his want, which had to be so clear on his face, this absolute agony. And nothing he could say but, “Yes, yes,” and hide behind his fingers, and endure it.

The worst part was, Potter was a great cook.

No: the worst was at the end of the night, when he kissed his cheek so, so gently.

Draco went home, and buried himself in his duvet, and swore to never play the fool in these games anymore.

*

“This is so embarrassing,” Potter announced into his hands, “I don’t know what happened, it just. Won’t quit it.”

His shower curtains were singing. Non-stop.

“I,” Draco swallowed, and his ribs nearly cracked with it, “didn’t k-know you were such a… big Celestina fan.”

Couldn’t hold it in: laughing so hard he was crying, and Potter was laughing too, shoulders heaving, so bright and so wonderful Draco’s teeth ached. They both ended up on the floor, winded and flushed. Draco loved him so much it was frightening.

“I,” he almost said it out loud, covered his mouth with a hand.

“What?” Potter, laughing. He took Draco’s hand with both of his, tried to pull it away, “What, what were you going to say?”

“Nothing!” in a tiny squeak. “Potter!” when he basically climbed in his lap, still laughing, laughing.

“You have to tell me. I made your favourite biscuits, so you have to.”

“You—did?” confused and bright-red in the face, “Why? Was someone supposed to come tonight?”

Potter’s eyes were so big. “No?”

“So why did you…” Potter always had too much food not due to a lack of planning, but his heart, that huge thing. “You cook when someone comes over.”

“Yes,” Potter agreed. He was so close and so warm. Baffling.

“So who did you bake the biscuits for?” who was responsible for this evening’s prank, he meant, for this torment. Whom should he thank or perhaps curse. Potter blinked his pretty eyelashes, then one big hand came to cup Draco’s face.

“You,” he said. This tiny, shy voice. “I made them for you. I was hoping you’d come. Might have… erm… cursed the curtains a bit.”

Draco would have gasped, but Potter’s hand on his cheek. “What?”

“Well… you never come when I invite you, only when something’s broken, and I, I, wanted to see you.”

No, that didn’t clarify anything. “Why?” Draco asked, and his voice was small too.

Potter huffed something warm on his face. “Because I like you, silly. You must have noticed? Everyone else did. They’ve been driving me bonkers and… they were right. I should have just been honest with you.”

His heart was racing, raucous in his chest. “You know they’ve been playing us. The clock, the windows, the cooker, everything that went wrong, it was them.”

“Not this time,” Potter said. His mouth was so close, so red and so stupidly gorgeous. Coming even closer. “Draco, can I…”

Instead of making himself smaller, Draco went big. Chest expanding, arms sending out and reaching, touching. He kissed Potter before the stupid git could even move, and then they were snogging, wet and sloppy on the bathroom floor.

It was stupid. It was perfect. Behind them, the curtain were still humming: a cauldron full of hot, hot love…

Had to stay for biscuits, right?

For my lovely @orange-peony who gave me a brilliant prompt from this list. Hey, you could do it too!

[moonchild-in-blue]

ii and iii wore what?

ii and iii did WHAT??

VESSEL?? DID WHAT???

TF IS UP CHICAGO, DID THE BEAN™ BLESS THE AIR OR SMTH??

[delta-pavonis]

July Kinkfest Day 6: Drummer/Dancer AU edition!

The Sandman || Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || 1062 words

Prompts: Praise Kink | Bruises | “Anyone could walk by and see what a little slut you’re being right now.” 

Warnings (in addition to the prompts above): sexual harassment, possessive Hob, semi-public sex, marking/biting kink

Author's Notes: It was more difficult to get all three prompts in here than I thought it would be. And the last one is paraphrased (hence not bolded, but also not crossed out). And, yes I am over 1000 words, BUT it gets you sassy Desire+Hob banter at the end, so I had to do it.

"You needn’t have come to my defense." Morpheus sighs, gathering the components for the healing spell for Hob. Two stunning black eyes have already bloomed on his lover’s face as a result of his need to be Morpheus’ savior, he doesn’t need to suffer any longer than necessary. “It happens quite often.” He murmurs the incantation while holding the components, then presses his fingers to Hob’s face just as the other man is opening his mouth to reply. “And no, of course that doesn’t mean it should happen at all, but the fact of the matter is that it does and I no longer think much of it. And neither should you.”

They had met another caravan just at the edges of the Southern Wastes and so, as tradition dictated, they made camp and made for revelry. The other group had been primarily sellswords, with the temperament and manners to match every possible stereotype therein. So, well into their cups, a few of them had started making lewd comments, heckling Morpheus and the others as they danced. And Hob had held steady, continuing his drumming through it. But then one particularly brash idiot had smacked Morpheus' ass as he passed by and… well. Hob is apparently willing to use his hands to back up the possessive he uses when calling Morpheus his Dream.

Morpheus would never admit out loud that Hob's response thrills him, makes him feel justified in his disgust at the sellswords' behaviors and makes him feel like he is something worth defending. 

“I refuse to let people think that they can get away with treating others like that, whether it is you or not.” Hob’s voice is becoming less nasal by the second as the broken bones and cartilage reset themselves. “It was just worse that it was you.”

Hob is giving Morpheus a look that he can't interpret. "What?" He finishes putting away the odds and ends of the spell and turns to his lover. "You want congratulations?" Morpheus pitches his voice up a register. "Oh, thank you, Robert Gadling, my hero." He puts the back of his hand to his forehead and swoons into Hob's lap, which gets the slightest hint of a smile, the crows' feet at the corners of Hob's eyes just beginning to appear. This only encourages the bard. "Thank the Nine you were here or whatever would I have done? I am so helpless and vulnerable!" He bats his eyelashes at Hob and that does it, the drummer cracks, a rolling laugh bubbling up.

Hob's arms wrap around his Dream's waist and he pulls him into a kiss. "Alright, alright. I get it. Point made. You aren't some pampered damsel." He tugs on Morpheus' hips until he is straddling Hob's lap on the medic’s exam table. 

"Hob. We are in a public space." Morpheus knows that his words contrast strongly with how he arches into Hob's mouth on his collarbones. "Hob!"

"You taste so good. All for me." Hob murmurs into his skin, seemingly ignoring Morpheus' protest. The bard's hands are in Hob's braided hair and he is rolling their hips together. "So good for me, my Dream." The breathy words curl around Morpheus' neck and he can't stop the whine that slides out through his clenched teeth. He desperately wants to be good for Hob. "Yeah, I know you like that. Just a few words and the right touches and you go all perfectly pliant in my hands. Yeah, that's my good, sweet Dream."

Oh. Oh fuck. Hob has found these weak points in Morpheus’ armor and has zero compunction about using them to his advantage. His hips, his whole body really, rocks into Hob, who grabs his ass in both hands, digs his fingers in, and pulls Morpheus’ cheeks apart through his clothing. Morpheus arches, holding on to Hob’s head, pressing his nose into his sternum, as he ruts against Hob’s chest and lets out a little choked off cry. 

“By the gods, listen to you sing. Choirs of astrals don’t sound so sweet.” Morpheus gasps as Hob just continues, sucking and biting marks into his neck in between sentences. “Nor do they sound so wanton. But you cannot resist, can you?” Morpheus trembles as he shakes his head. No, he has found he cannot resist Hob, cannot stop his body and mind from swaying towards him like a flower to the sun, from listing into each touch like he is starved for it. “Anyone could walk into this tent at any moment and you just want to bounce on my cock like the pretty little whore that you are…”

“Yes!” Morpheus moans and then Hob is lifting him, flipping him, pressing his face down into the table and tugging his pants down his thighs. 

He hears the soft pop of a cork and then slick sounds – Hob’s hand on his own dick, and then ohfuckyes Hob’s oiled hand is on Morpheus’ prick and he muffles his groan by biting his fist. “I keep oil in my pocket now, because of you, my sweet slut, my Dream. Never know when I am going to have to-” Hob thrusts into Morpheus with a grunt “-fill your needy hole.”

This must be what going insane feels like, Morpheus is sure. They fuck fierce and fast and he knows nothing but pleasure and the sound of Hob’s voice behind his ear, whispering filth the entire time. 

When Hob comes he buries himself so deep Morpheus swears he feels it punching a hole in his lungs, rearranging things in the back of his throat. 

"Mark me. Please." He hears himself beg, voice reedy and he is so so close. So close that as soon as Hob's teeth find the meat of his shoulder Morpheus climaxes, head snapping back in a silent scream, body tightening so violently that Hob's seed gushes down his thighs. 

They collapse, panting.

The quiet lasts only a moment and then Epithumia's voice rings from outside the tent. "While we all appreciate Hob's prowess in dicking down our eldest brother, my siblings and I would like to request you restrict your satyric ferret escapades to inside structures with walls made of materials more substantial than canvas."

Hob chuckles, still a little breathless. "Way to be a wet blanket, Epi."

"You've done enough blanket wetting for the both of us, drummer boy..." is the last thing they hear before footsteps fading away.

[loving-jack-kelly]

jack would learn how to do something he thinks is really smart to impress davey like how to solve a rubix cube and accidentally get really into it and the jokes on him because davey is actually enamored with the way jack will say the stupidest shit imaginable with the confidence of a man who knows it all. jack is like I have memorized the life cycle of honeybees because davey mentioned offhand he likes bees and davey is like yesterday jack told me that he still thinks watermelons will grow in his stomach if he swallows a black seed but the white seeds are fine and I almost kissed him right there

[jaypgartifacts]

a weird guy appear

[distressedwalnut]

So, little story time; One time I was going through the internet for like, at least 2 hours looking for Jebus content. (Jeb is my fav, lol)

And just when I was about to give up, and go to sleep, I found ur tumblr, and just started freaking out, cuz, like, let's be honest; UR ART IS FUCKIN PRETTY. So then I spent, like, the rest of the night just looking at ur art of Jeb, and then of ur ocs...

... Anyway, I just wanted to say that I think ur really cool, I want to eat ur art, and it's always nice to find another Jeb enjoyer!

... And also, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DRAW JEB'S HAIR & BEIRD, I'M DYING OVER HERE--

-Yours truly, An Idiot In A Suit

SCREAMS HELLO HI WELCOME!!!! I'm happy to provide!!! The Jeb enjoyers do be low in number so you gotta look out for each other

[spokelseskladden]

wow who would've thought having the rightwing parties in power in this god's forsaken municipality would be a bad thing...who could've possibly seen this coming....... there's just no way anyone could've known that they would fuck every single one of us in every way imaginable..........

[yoihino]

Where's that post talking about how shipping two characters can sometimes undermine the deep relationship and character dynamic they share in the original work? I feel like I really need it roght now

[teruel-a-witch]

considering steve and danny have the worst timing and are prone to miscommunication, it would be just steve's luck if one day he decides he's finally had enough and it's time to tell danny how he feels about him, whatever happens it'll be out on the open and he could finally try to move on if the answer isn't the one he's hoping for.

danny listens to steve's confession with a shock and surprise but clear elation like he's getting an unexpected welcome gift, before he seems to have some realization, disappointment washes over him, his face falls and he says 'YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY TO PLAY WITH MY HEART? AM I A JOKE TO YOU? NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN'.

he storms off leaving distraught and confused steve in his wake, trying to understand where it all went so wrong. then he hears someone say 'happy april fool's, idiot' and it's 'OH SHIT'.

of course the day steve finally decided to confess his love for danny he assumed steve was playing a prank on him. steve was lucky not to experience danny's mean right hook again.

his new mission is to find danny and convince him he wasn't kidding. a mcgarrett always completes his missions.