#he’s such a skinny string bean

[easypeasylindyvesey]

EVERYONE WAKE UP. JIMMY VESEY SUMMER CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

(pic creds: @hillarytrocheck/IG)

[subby-muffin]

I think the best thing about me is that I both do and don’t have a type.

Like I have so many types that it basically doesn’t mean anything anymore.

(That’s what happens when your demisexual/romantic and therefore everyone is kinda the same to me until I’m attracted to them… that is to say I’ll think you’re really cool and love platonically until the moment my brain decides I like you more than that)

[lovecatsys]

literally every gay show i get obsessed with all the male characters are always skinny and so i am never attracted to them. i want a show for once where i can go insane about a character and also be extremely attracted to them but noo its always twinks

[ap-trash-compactor]

me when I see art that makes Ast*rion super buff

[slater-baby]

Welp, since absolutely no one asked

Here are the types of bodies I think the 141 have ✨

TF141 x Female Reader

Tags: cum eating, blow jobs, oral (fem receiving), cumming in pants, multiple orgasms

Warning: NSFW imagery beneath cut

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

As far as sheer beauty goes, Gaz might top them all. I head canon Kyle as being pretty lean, body composed of sculpted, sheer muscle. He's got a slim frame, like a runner or boxer.

Graceful. Strong. Built for endurance and agility.

What's more? It's fucking effortlessssss. Like, legitimately. When he was a middle schooler, he might have been told he was skinny once or twice. But the minute he hit his growth spur and shot up like a bean stalk, no one could say shit.

Why?

Because Gaz looks like a goddamn male model and he doesn't even have to do anything to maintain it.

Perfect skin? Yep. He uses five dollar lotion.

Legs like a ballerina? Uh-huh. The only training he does is for work.

Sculpted, mouth-watering abs? Check. They were built by McDonald's fries, Netflix, and the grace of God himself.

Let's face it. Gaz looks like he walked off the cover of a magazine purely because the lord has favorites. Let's move on.

Now, Gaz might only go the extra mile when it comes to work training...

But those muscles didn't just come from anywhere.

And the first time Gaz gets you underneath him, cock pounding into you for what feels like hours, you finally fucking understand.

Gaz's body—slick, strong, and slim—is built for agility. For endurance.

It's built for trapping you beneath the length of his covetous frame until you're too exhausted to struggle. For holding you down until he's dripping with sweat, until every muscle in his shaking body screams for a break.

Until his long, aching cock is slowly dripping semen onto the flat of your stomach.....for the third time in the past hour.

Gaz might loathe running the track, but he'll have you fucking like bunnies until you manage to buck him off.

The man has stamina that could rival a racehorse, and god help any woman that found herself in his grasp.

"Sit still, baby," he pants loudly, wrenching the globes of your ass in two of his model-esque hands, "M'not fuckin' done yet. One more...I just—need one more."

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Now Soap? probably the exact opposite of Gaz.

When body building became popular online, Soap jumped right on the bandwagon. Perhaps he grew up as the youngest brother in a horde of boys...or perhaps he was just tired of being the shortest boy on the football team...

But the minute he was old enough to afford a gym subscription, he was there. From dusk 'til dawn, practically. To Johnny, the gym is more than just a hobby. It's a lifestyle, and one that he enjoys immensely.

Soap is bulky, built of bulging muscle, broad shoulders, and thin hips. Every inch of it, from his plush chest to his cut abs, was painstakingly earned by hours of pumping iron.

He goes lifting six days a week, tracks all of his nutrition down to the last calorie. Everything he puts into his body is tracked and monitored--and that's the way he likes it.

He'd never say it aloud, but if it were up to him, I think he'd be the type to participate in those fitness/body building competitions.

In simple terms though? Without all those fancy words? "Macros?" "BCAAS?" What the hell is that?

In layman's terms...

Johnny has arms like tree trunks and ass for fucking DAYS. With the bulk and cut cycle, he oscillates between beautifully fatty in the thighs....to shredded like a piece of paper.

You can't help but watch him go back and forth, mind reeling with the change.

In the winter, you rest your head against the soft plains of his stomach while you lap at the head of his cock, soft and squishy from holiday cookies and hot cocoa. You like him like this.

Full. Rosy cheeked. Cock leaking strings of slick in the dip of his belly button, semen thin and stringy in your mouth.

In the summer? God help you.

In the summer, Johnny's out more than he's in, running himself ragged between his diet, work, and the gym. When he comes home, he's grumpy and agitated, balls achingly full, and semen thick after months of careful water intake.

His caloric intake might be down...but he prefers a different type of eating, anyway.

Good thing he has all those muscles. All the better to hold you down while he fucks you on his tongue.

"Johnny—" you mewl, shoving at his head when his tongue curls around your clit again, "It's past five already—aren't you ready for dinner?"

His lips pop when he pulls off of your swollen clit, eyes glazed over while he watches the way your pussy leaks.

"M'not hungry, doll," he mutters, "Got more than enough to eat here, anyway..."

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon Riley....

Now, he's just a big fucking boy. Like, 6'4, over 250 lbs type of big.

Hear me out. Contrary to popular belief, I think Simon has more trouble keeping weight on than keeping it off. I wholeheartedly believe that when he was a teenager he was a thin guy.

Like, he'd fully grown into his height, but just didn't have the nutrition to support it. Simon doesn't cook, and...for lack of a better description, he's not great at taking care of himself. When he was a teenager, still trapped in his parents house, he probably skipped more meals than he ate. And before he joined the army, I think it's safe to say he was a lanky, underweight kid.

But the minute that man starts eating three meals a day?

GODDAMN DOES HE GROW. Like, I'm pretty sure by the end of basic training his drill sergeants were terrified of the monster they'd created.

Simon's fucking heavyyyyyy. Built equally of fat and muscle. He likes the gym, but his body isn't built for the magazine. It's built for utility. For war. For fucking blood. He doesn't care about appearances. He needs strength than can kill.

Barrel chest. Biceps bigger than your head. Stomach muscled and heaving. A trail of wispy, blonde hair leading down from his belly button into the hefty bulge at the front of his pants....

Simon's a behemoth, and anyone whose fought him on the mat knows better than to stand within his arms' reach.

Now, his weight fluctuates pretty heavily, too. A rough few months in the field could see his weight dropping quickly, in which case his hard earned muscle would show through.

But when he's on leave?

...homeboy sustains himself on granola bars and ramen noodles. He gets soft around the middle and also should probably drink more water but...good luck trying to get him to eat more than convenience store junk. He’ll set the kitchen on fire if he tries to boil some water.

Simon's big.

And he's big everywhere.

The zippers on his jeans are remarkably tight. His fatigues look almost like lingerie on his thick thighs. And if he's wearing grey sweatpants?Simon's a lethal fucking weapon at that point.

Why am I telling you this?

Because the first time you see him naked, you might be tempted to reconsider opening your legs for a man like him...your cervix will be bruised to hell and back--not to mention your ass and thighs, too. His hands aren't kind like Kyle's, nor are they careful like Johnny's.

He'll rough you up, pound into you like any reasonable woman could ever manage to take the full length of him without crying.

He'll bite his identity into your collarbones, burn his fingerprints into the fat of your ass cheeks. And when it's all said and done, he'll bully the fattened head of his ruddy cock between your lips and watch the tears drip from your eyes, swollen mouth quivering when you try to swallow his cum.

And if it's all too much to handle? Good luck getting out from under him. Because once you're there, you're not leaving unless you can push him off, match his strength, or make him cum fast enough to leave before he's hard again.

Though, nobody's ever managed it before...not like they'd ever want to.

"Mm—Simon, you're—“

"Shhhh, love," he grunts, your body shoved flat to the mattress beneath his massive frame, "Don't move. Don't fuckin' move. I'm almost there, just....fuck, sit still and let me fill you up, yeah? Then I'll let you go...I promise this time."

Captain John Price

Now, if there is anyone in the 141 that actually enjoys the food they eat, it's Price.

HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT

okay so, Price, as a Captain, probably makes substantially more than the other three. That, and he's a good bit older too. He's past his prime (or so he thinks), and whether or not he has a perfect six pack when he looks in the mirror is the LAST thing he could ever care about.

Price isn't one for keeping up appearances--at least not as it concerns his body shape.

Is his beard trimmed and oiled? Always. He's damn near neurotic about it.

Is he always freshly showered, groomed, and cologne-d? Without a doubt. It's a point of pride.

Does the watch he's wearing compliment his clothing? he spends a STUPID amount of time thinking about it.

Will he gain another pound if he eats the Oreo cheesecake at the end of the night? Yep. And he'll enjoy every. Single. Second of it.

Price is as close to a foodie as a purebred military man can get. He loves cooking, and he recently remodeled his kitchen. He has GREAT taste in wine and spirits, and has spent a significant amount on amassing a good collection in his house.

If there's one word that describes Price, it's this: DECADENCE.

This man drinks, smokes, and eats as much as he pleases because he's lived long enough to learn the value of hedonism.

Why skip the cigs for the cigar when you could smoke both? Why stop at popping a just a single bottle bottle? Why not order the most expensive steak on the menu? Or the thickest slice of chocolate cake you've ever seen? What, like he'll regret it?

Price doesn't regret anything, and his body reflects that.

Of course, due to his profession, he never truly falls out of athletic shape (he's ready to be called away at a moments notice, after all). But he's LONG SINCE ditched his glory days. Like the others, his body fluctuates between highly cut to soft around the edges.

Price is thick around the ribs and plush in the chest. His weight settles around his hips and arms, making his biceps fluff up if he eats enough. His stomach is soft and sweet. So are his thighs.

The only thing that doesn't change?

The hair. Holy shit this man has a lot of chest hair.

All in all, Price likes a good meal, but he's still in elite fighting shape. Though, unlike the other three, his age stops him from being purely athletic. If anything, he looks more like a construction worker or landscaper. Someone who spent a long time building things with their hands instead of running laps around the track.

Now, what was that about decadence? Drinking, smoking, eating...

Price was indulgent in every sense of the word. Indulgent to himself, to his friends, and to his family.

But in bed?

The way Price fucks makes you understand why people let their teeth rot for another bite of Halloween candy.

Price wouldn't know moderation if it hit him in the face. And when it comes to your pleasure, to your body in and of itself, Price will be damned if you walk away without a smile on your face.

He's a service Dom through and through. Hell, just feeling your cunt clench around his fingers, your voice crying through another orgasm, is nearly enough to make him cum in his pants.

He'd done it before, too.

Was he embarrassed about it?

Not at all.

"John," you gasp, watching his length twitch rapidly beneath his jeans, a wet spot appearing at the top of his bulge, "Did you just..."

"Yeah," he groans between kisses, "So what?"

"It's—It's just that...isn't that a little—"

"Embarrassing?" he chuckles, "Hardly...Not if you'll go as red as I think you will when I let you lick me clean."

To John, watching you lap at his softening cock--and enjoy it too--is more than enough to get his blood pumping.

He'd always give you exactly what you want...even if you didn't have the guts to ask for it aloud.

[spicycinnabun]

another ficlet from the same verse as i’m sorry, christofern 🪴

~

Eddie unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. He couldn’t breathe. The waiter was sneering down at him—at his piercings, tattoos, fingernails blackened with polish and chipping. He didn’t belong at this fine establishment, and it was noticeable to everyone.

The piano man was going to town playing a Beethoven Sonata near their table, and Eddie was this close to shoving him off the bench and showing him how to play some real fucking music.

But Steve was also sitting across from him, looking suave with his hair combed back like an old Hollywood movie star. He was beaming at Eddie, and Eddie was helpless to it.

Even if the menu was giving him a goddamn heart attack, and he was trying not to keel over behind it as Steve ordered the lobster bisque—to start.

Eddie ordered the garden salad.

Steve gave him a weird look. “You sure that's what you want? I thought you didn't like salad.”

“I’m sure,” Eddie said. The salad wouldn't demolish his wallet like any of the things that actually sounded good. “I’m turning over a new leaf. Eating healthier.”

“Uh-huh. You’re already as skinny as a string bean. I don't think you need to eat healthier. You probably need to eat more."

“No can do. I’ve become a slut for vegetables.” Eddie grinned. It was maniacal. “Can't resist a big, juicy cucumber in my mouth.”

The waiter left, looking deeply disturbed, and Steve kicked him under the table, blushing. “Eddie! Jesus.”

“What? Can't a man freely express his joy for deepthroating gourds?”

Steve choked on his water, putting the glass down hastily as he coughed. “You’re such a…” He didn't finish that sentence, but Eddie could fill in the blank.

💚🌱🌿💚

Their first course came, and Eddie pretended to like his salad.

“Yeah, you really look like you're into that,” Steve said, stirring his soup.

Eddie swallowed hard. “It’s absolutely succulent, Steven, thank you.”

He absolutely hated it. The slimy vinaigrette, too.

“Oh, man. Look at that string of pearls,” Steve said, letting it go as he pointed over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d like one of those.”

Usually, Eddie was the one lacking manners. “Kinda rude to point at people, baby.”

Also, pearls? Eddie was going to be in the red right after this dinner. He hoped Steve wasn’t expecting those any time soon.

Steve laughed, dropping his hand on the table. “No, I’m not. Look.”

Eddie turned in his chair, then groaned in realization when he saw what was hanging from the ceiling.

Steve wasn’t pointing at some woman wearing a pearl necklace. He was geeking out over a fucking plant. Even in public, he was a devoted plant daddy.

“We can get you one of those,” Eddie told him. Steve wanted a pearl plant? Done.

Steve leaned back in his seat, assessing him with his warm brown gaze. Eddie tried not to squirm. “What?”

“You don't like it here.”

Eddie balked. “I like it fine—” he started, then deflated a little under Steve’s skeptical eyebrow quirk. “Okay, I don't like it here. But you do, right?”

“It actually kinda reminds me of my parents.” Steve’s nose wrinkled. “I just wanted to have a good time with you and treat you to something special, but it backfired on me.”

Oh. Hell.

“Hey, it didn't backfire, sweetheart,” Eddie told him, voice low. His hand twitched. He wanted to reach across the table for Steve’s but knew he couldn’t—especially not here. Here, they were no more than friends.

“You wanna ditch and go get a pizza?” Steve asked, nails scratching along the crisp white tablecloth like he was thinking the same thing. “We can catch the next creature feature at the drive-in. Eat on the hood of my car?”

Eddie sighed, feeling his entire self relax. “Oh fuck yes, please. Let’s go.”

They grinned at each other and got up, slinging on their coats. They paid for their half-eaten meals. Neither of them tipped the snooty waiter.

Steve caught his hand in the parking lot as they walked to his car. It was risky, but the walk was less than a minute. They linked fingers.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 30

part 1 | part 29 | ao3

cw: Steve Harrington committing unforgivable thought crimes (besmirching LotR)

"Uh," Steve stammers as Eddie tugs him off the couch, because he just propositioned the guy while covered in snot and tears and wearing a blanket as a cape, and now that guy is holding his hand.

Eddie doesn't let go after he gets him to his feet. Their fingers lace together, and his palm is soft and warm, his fingers slightly callused. Steve can feel his own pulse pounding in his wrist.

"Simmer down," Eddie teases, "I'm not having sex with you. Yet," he adds with a lewd waggle of his brows when Steve puppy-dog pouts at him. "This is better than sex, anyway."

"If you're having shit sex, maybe.” Steve rolls his eyes and lets himself be dragged past a messy counter, where Eddie stops to grab a black lunch box and a cassette tape, a tissue for Steve’s face, then down the hall to Eddie's bedroom.

"My kingdom," he grins as he shoves the door open and waves Steve through with a bow.

His room is amazing. Awesome and terrible all at once: awesome, because it looks like someone put Eddie’s essence in a blender and ran the blades without a lid, and terrible, because the place is a fucking pigsty. There’s a bag of bread on the floor.

Eddie tells him to make himself at home, so Steve plops down on the edge of his bed, takes in the explosion of artwork tacked to the walls while Eddie buzzes around the room — swoops and swoons like a drunken bee, kicking shit into messy piles, sticking a cig in his mouth and forgetting to find the lighter, turning on the stereo. He pops in the cassette, and Steve lets out a surprised laugh when he hears the upbeat strumming.

"Rumours? Really? That's your 'better than sex' cure?"

Eddie cranks the volume. "It's workin’, ain't it?" he mumbles around the unlit cig.

Steve tries to frown and fails. "…Shut up."

Eddie snickers at him; gives him the cutest smile he's ever seen, nose scrunched up, eyes crinkled at the corners, then he tucks the cigarette behind his ear and shakes his hair out with a grimace. “Christ, it’s hot in here." His hands move to the hem of his shirt. "Look away or don’t, baby, I’m changin’!”

Steve smiles and averts his gaze, falling back on Eddie’s bed and looking at the ceiling with his legs dangled over the edge. In his periphery he can see Eddie hopping gracelessly around the dresser, trying to tug his foot out of the end of his skinny jeans, cursing under his breath; dropping all the ‘g’s off the ends of his words.

"I like your Southern accent."

"Do ya now?" Eddie throws it on thick, really hamming it up, "Well then, I reckon it's plum near the most attractive dad-gum thing y’ever did hear 'round these here pawrts."

Steve honks a mortifyingly stupid laugh, which makes Eddie laugh like a chime in a windstorm, which just makes Steve laugh even more, and maybe Eddie was right.

Maybe this is better than sex.

He wipes at his eyes, misty for a good reason for the first time all night, and when he looks up again Eddie’s dressed in his pajamas. Dark gray gym shorts, a black cut-off tank, the arm holes deep and loose to expose his armpit hair, his ribs.

Steve’s mouth goes dry.

Eddie’s wiry and pale, firm muscle wrapped around his string-bean frame, and he's covered in tattoos — black line art and gray shading, fantastical beasts and staffs and swords, a crazily-detailed set of serpent scales snaking up his side. But it's his legs that catch Steve's eye.

His legs are covered in words. Words and doodles everywhere, from his calves to his thighs, the lines wobbly and thick like Eddie put them there himself. There are quotes in sloppy cursive, longer ones in blocky print; a few stylized to look like comic book dialog, the words POW! and DANGER outlined in spiky bubbles above his knee. Steve wants to trace the lines; rehearse him like a poem, learn each ink stroke with his fingers until he can recite them all by heart.

Eddie catches him staring and gives a small, pleased grin. “Like what you see?”

Steve’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Yeah. I really do.”

The smile widens. Eddie clambers onto the bed, stepping over Steve’s head and plopping down beside him with his back against the wall, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out long and loose.

Steve shifts to lay the same direction, and his shoulder brushes Eddie’s leg, his wrist ghosting against his ankle bone. He doesn’t pull away; likes the look of their skin tones side by side — the smooth desert landscape of his inner arm, accented only by a few veins and moles; the riot of ink and art all along Eddie’s shin. Eddie’s feet are bare, and they’re wide, a little hairy (reminds Steve of Dustin’s nerdy ring book, and he almost says as much, but he knows Eddie’s even more obsessed with that shit than the kids are. He really doesn’t want the dude to pop a brain boner and spend the next four hours lecturing Steve about jewelry lore.)

“What are you giggling at down there?” Eddie nudges at his elbow.

“Nothing,” Steve says, and Eddie responds “All right then, keep your secrets” in a silly character voice. He stretches to the side and grabs a joint off the bedside table.

“Now,” he says, voice slipping into that deep, slow sing-song thing he does — his sales pitch tone, Steve realizes. “This part is, of course, completely optional, but. In my humble, expert opinion—”

“So humble,” Steve teases under his breath.

“—It really enhances the whole experience.”

“The Stevie Nicks Therapeu- thera-” Oh, screw it. “Un-saddening Experience?”

“That is correct.” He holds it out over Steve’s face, wiggling it in offering, and Steve thinks about his conversation with Robin over brunch:

"I can't believe you did coke.” "I can't believe you smoked weed." "I know." "Was it okay?" He hasn't tried weed since... "Yeah," she answers seriously. "Yeah, it was okay. It was nice, actually."

“Okay,” he decides. I trust you. “Let’s do it.”

Eddie puts the joint between his lips and lights it up.

—

part 31

listen i know it’s a quote from a movie that will not exist for another 16 years just let me have this. tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[fun-k-boards]

WBY ARE ATSV ARTISTS SO INSISTENT ON CHANGING BODY TYPES??

Hobie is a literal string bean, this man is not curvy or muscular in the slightest, he hugs you, you will get paper cuts.

Pavitr is muscular but still skinny, however he is not string bean material for the fact that he's more muscle.

Miguel is a BRICK WALL. He is not a string bean in the SLIGHTEST. If you accidentally ran into him you'd get a BLACK EYE!!

WHAT IS SO HARD TO GRASP ABOUT THIS???

[soft-persephone]

Winston’s Sister

A request from @megamindsecretlair

Winston is a black man, so this is definitely about a black woman, but anyone can still read it. Free world.

Masterlist // MDNI // WC 4k // Explicit! // warnings: mirror sex, dom sub dynamic? But not really, smut, fluff, shenagains, and more //

You’re achy and frankly, rather tired.

Your flight was awful and you didn’t even want to be here. However, you were making the most of it.

Your mother made you fly all the way accross the fucking country, just to see your brother because “he needs somebody to check up on him, and I don’t trust that little white boy running in and out of that apartment now that Nick’s got that new job!” Were her exact words, and the source of your achy shoulders and knots that wouldn’t stop tying and untying themselves in your stomach.

You might have to see Nick.

Biting your lip, you mentally will yourself to brave the worst and knock on the door. As your fist made contact with the wood the door creaked open.

“Uhm. . .” The loft was rather quiet. The sun beaming throughout all the windows in an almost picturesque manner, “hello?”

You heard a thud in the kitchen.

“It’s the first day of my new job and you buffoons break the coffee machine, unbelievable!”

A slim man with dark hair and blue eyes and professionally well dressed swerved around the corner and almost bumped into you.

His attitude changed almost instantaneously. “Why hello there,” despite his nice clothes and previously loud fussy attitude, neither of those attributes could hide the fuck boy he truly was, “I’m sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.”

He put his arm on the wall beside you, invading every inch of personal space you previously had.

“I’m not-—

“—I told you we didn’t have the wattage support for a machine that big.” A voice unrecognized called from around the corner until another man appeared. He froze. His casual annoyed demeanor shifted to something you couldn’t recognize before his eyes got dark.

He looked so different. There wasn’t any awkward length hair with a gangly long figure to match. The clunky braces and horribly fashioned boy you couldn’t think of anything as less than annoying, was now an unrecognizable man.

“Get the fuck off of Winston’s sister,” he noticed you looking and quickly changed his tone to something less aggressive. “I’m sorry about him,” he looked at you apologetically before hitting the man in the shoulder rather hard with a fist, “jar, Schmidt.”

“God, Nick.” Schmidt dramatically reacted to the pain and rubbed his arm.

He unceremoniously pulled out a $10 bill from his pocket with his two fingers and placed it in the jar already filled with a considerable amount of cash.

“I am going to work.”

He briskly brushed past you two and slammed the door.

Nick rolled his eyes at the door before looking back to you with a smile. Your stomach dropped at the sight, looking up at him in what you hoped was a neutral pleasant demeanor, and not something full of the apprehensive awe and shock that was warring inside you.

“I’m really sorry abou—“

The door burst open, “—and just so you know I’m a great catch!”

You looked back to Nick in panic. Not sure what to do or say, but he was breathing sharply through his nose and looking up at the ceiling. A vein slowly popping out of his neck.

God his neck.

He was so thick. Where did all of that weight come from? He was a small skinny kid and a tall string bean of a human being in High School, so where did this. . . Manly mass of a man come from.

“Don’t listen to anything this man says about me. I am rather nice and fair,” his voice dropped, “in every way, might I add.”

“Out. Schmidt.” Nick said through his teeth. His fist closed rather tightly.

Still angry as ever.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

Schmidt shuts the door and you both assumed it was safe enough to believe he wouldn’t be back.

“Well look at you.” His voice was low, so very very low. It was raspy and deep with a gravely tinge that made you lightheaded and your stomach flutter. You curled your toes in your shoes to curb the feeling away.

“You're all grown up now.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and smiled meekly at him.

“I could say the same about you too.”

He let out a laugh through his nose.

If he was a step closer, you’re sure you'd have been able to feel the air of it tickling your face.

“Yeah, well I gained a couple hundred pounds since I last saw you and a whole lot of hair on top of it.”

His laugh at his own expense was contagious even though you didn’t quite agree with him.

Inwardly you pushed down the warm fuzzy thoughts about just how hairy he might be underneath his clothes. How heavy would his body feel on yours now that he had some weight to him?

“It’s really gross.” The eye contact he made with you was so sudden. You quickly averted your gaze, but as you looked back at him, into his eyes. He was still looking. “Believe me.” His voice dropped into something soft, low, and mellow. It didn’t feel real. With as raspy as it had gotten from all the cigarettes he used to smoke, smooth didn’t feel like a possibility for him anymore, but here you are, wrong and standing corrected.

“Lil sis, what up?” Winston casually strolled over to you both taking a large bite out of a banana, rather awkwardly, making you roll your eyes and Nick cringe.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t stand so close to me eating a banana like that.”

Winston only took another bite, unperturbed.

“You can’t hate a player just tryina keep his potassium up,” he said with his mouth full, “I gotta do what I gotta do to stay in shape.”

“You heading to practice?” You questioned, quickly changing the subject.

“Oh, yeah. About that,” Winston placed both his hands on your shoulders before regarding you with a warm look and wrapping his arms around you before placing his hands on your shoulders one more, “I do not want you to come see me play.”

“You what?”

“Look, don’t be mad. It’s because you love me way too much. I won’t be able to focus.”

You nodded your head. Keeping your mouth from forming that thin line that always revealed how irritated you were.

“Thanks for understanding. You're the best!”

He shouldered a gym bag before bustling towards the door.

“I’m gonna go head to the gym to train with Coach a little bit before practice. Nick you can show her around the city and give her the tour, see the sites and all that.”

“Will do.”

“Byee.”

And with that, you were alone together.

“I don’t think I got the chance to hug you during all that.” He smiled warmly at you.

You instantly smiled, not moving or saying anything.

“Don’t be shy,” he moves to hug you first, wrapping his arms around you, “I missed you. It’s been so long.”

He was warm and solid, smelling of fabric softener and old spice. Your heart quickened a little as you slowly wrapped your arms around him. He responded by squeezing you tighter to him. Now that your face was hidden from him you weren’t afraid to savor the feeling of being so close, snuggling just a tad closer, letting your face fall into the dent of his chest just a bit firmer.

“All right, it’s getting a little awkward.” He laughed. “I think we hugged long enough.

You laughed too, but your heart broke a little. Nick had never been touchy feely, but every now and then he’d try.

“Let me put in a movie or something for background noise while we catch up. Then we can go out later for something to eat and maybe we’ll see some sights along the way.”

“Sounds good.” You walked after him to sit on the couch.

He knew you so well.

“He flipped through several dvd’s in a box as you leaned over his shoulder as he sat on the ground.

“What was your favorite? Fifth Element?” He raised it in front of your face, “or was it, Friday?”

You’d seen this movie. . .well you were always watching this movie. It was never enough. It was the perfect throw on, the perfect background noise, the perfect pick me up, the ultimate comforter, you were always open to watching this movie.

The company wasn’t that bad either.

“So you're sticking with nursing school?” he interjected at a random sceen. If you didn't feel his eyes looming on you every few minutes, you would have forgotten he was in the room, but it was hard to forget when he sits so close, his arm stretched out behind you.

The urge to lean into his side and press up against him was strong, but you fought it.

“Yeah,” you started softly, moving your eyes away from the screen towards him, “I can’t imagine doing anything else. I get to do so many wonderful things and help so many people and make sure black women’s voices are heard and they get the treatment they need. I get to make sure another black person doesn’t have to suffer because of someone else’s bias or negligence. I’m really making a difference.”

Nick’s smile made you realize just how much you were smiling, you buried your face in your hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away.”

“Sorry, Nick’s eyebrows drew together, “what are you sorry for? For being the amazing person I always knew you were? For doing something you love and finding your own purpose in life?” His face fell in a way that made your heart break.

“Sor—“ you breathed through your nose. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I just know I can go on and on about it.

“It’s not a bad thing to get carried away with.” He chuckled lowly, “at least you aren’t a drunk. . . Or on drugs. Something bad like that.”

You nodded. The lull in the conversation was deafening.

“You met anybody yet.”

You sighed, fiddling with your fingers in your lap.

You did not want to have this conversation.

“No.”

He nodded matter of factly.

“I guess I’m just not the girl anyone’s looking for.” You shrugged your shoulders and went back to watching the movie. Assuming that was all to it and the conversation was now over.

Nick paused the movie.

You turned toward him with your mouth open, ready to protest, but at his weighted gaze you closed your mouth.

You’d never seen him look like this before.

“You know it’s not you right?”

“Nick, I—“

“Right?” He interrupted you a little more firmly.

You shrugged your shoulders again, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m not,” you shook your head with another sigh, “insecure or so self conscious I hate myself or anything. I just know I’m not a lot of people’s type. It’s fi—“

“No, it isn’t fine.” His voice was rising higher. His ears started to look a little red.

“You’re. . . Amazing.” His eyes darted across your face, searching for an answer. “You are the nicest, most kindest girl I know. You’re gorgeous, if any guy you’ve been with or met doesn’t recognize that, then you have to know it isn’t you.” He pleaded with you, grabbing your hand and leaning close until he was inches away from your face. Your heart pounding in your ears was all you could hear.

“Please, tell me you don’t think it’s you?” He begged.

You shook your head, and his eyes narrowed in a concern so great his eyes almost closed.

“I’m sorry.” You weakly offered. The sleeves of your shirt falling over your knuckles as you balled your fist in the fabric of the blanket.

He closed his eyes. Slightly nodding his head at your apology.

Wincing one more time, his mouth in a thin line, he opened his eyes. The way he was looking at you sent a chill down your spine.

You opened your mouth to apologize again, to say something, anything, desperate to get him back to the man he was before and not how disappointed and angry he was, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Shut. Up.”

Nick’s mouth was hot and heavy as he kissed you. Swiping his tongue across yours with such fervor you could barely keep up. His large hot hands were searing on the skin of your face.

Breaking the kiss, he kept his grip on your cheeks, squeezing them so tight it brought tears to your eyes.

“When I let go,” he squeezed for emphasis, making you whimper, “get up.”

His grip on your face loosened, and you instantly stood up.

His brows almost unfurled. His resolve almost slipped before it fell back into its newfound dark haze.

Grabbing your arm he ushered you into his room. The nails he had were digging into your arm.

“Take off your clothes.”

You tried to be quick. You really did, but as Nick lifted his shirt off his back, you couldn’t help but be transfixed by the hair on his chest. The shadow of a trail it left lead to the waistband of his jeans. He frowned at you even more somehow, and shoved his jeans off his body, you couldn’t help being distracted.

“ I thought I told you to do something.” He said through parted lips and a clenched jaw. His tongue momentarily darted across his lips. Your eyes couldn’t help but to soak up every movement, desperate for each and every one and more.

“I’m . . . Trying.” You quickly stopped yourself from apologizing.

He shook his head before grabbing the hem of your shirt and tugging it over your head.

“Not hard enough.” His voice was hot on your neck as he pressed himself against you, his hands roaming everywhere on your skin, settling over your breast, settling his palms over them kneading them,, squeezing them hard enough for little moons to form on the tender skin

“Ngh. . .” You panted out a short whine, “Nii—“

He shoved you down into the mattress by your shoulder blades before forcefully moving your head to the side.

“Look.” His thumb and forefinger digging into the skin of your cheek, he leaned over you. The weight of his body on your back was unbearable in this position, making everything hurt so much more.

“I want you to look in that mirror,” he jutted your chin for emphasis, “and tell me how pretty you are.”

You parted your lips. Desperate for a relief, for him to ease up and stop or relieve your pain or hurt you more, something, anything but this.

He smacked your ass, hard.

The additional pain on top of what you were already feeling made you gush.

“I think I fucking asked you something.”

“Yes.” You pant into the fabric of his sheets, nodding as much as you could.

One hand keeping you in place, he pushed two of his fingers into you with his other hand. The pace he set was fast and unrelenting.

As he decided to curl his fingers just a bit, you watch your lips part. When he alternated between fucking you on his hand and circling his fingers around your clit, you watched your eyes flutter and your toungue peek out of your mouth.

“Tell me how pretty you are.” He eased up the pressure of his hand forcing your head down. Pulling his fingers out of your dripping pussy, making you whimper.

“I-I lo look so pretty,” you stuttered, he rewarded you with his thumb circling tight on your clit, “when you play with my pussy like this.”

Nick’s smile was something sinister.

“That’s right.” He made eye contact with you in the mirror before getting on his knees. Your mouth opened that much wider as he did.

“You’re so pretty like this.” His warm breath on your folds sent a shudder throughout your body. “Cum for me.” As soon as his lips hit your clit you let out a choked moan, spilling out on his tongue. He slid two fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace, making it that much more unbearable.

Your hooded eyes and desperate face was making you whimper and squirm. You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t look at yourself like this a moment longer, but all you could do was fist the fabric of the sheets, taking whatever Nick gave you.

“Look at you,” Nick looked down at you with a smile, something soft and warm, unlike the dark and heavy gaze of disappointment and reprimand he regarded you with for most of the day, “I always knew there was a dirty little slut inside of you.” As gentle as he sounded, it didn’t take away the low heavy weight of gravel in his voice. The low dulcet tones of his words in addition to how filthy they were, made you open your mouth in a silent moan as you looked up at him in the mirror.

“You like looking at yourself.” He climbed over you, flipping you gently onto your back, rubbing softly at all the marks he left on your skin. You fell into him completely, snuggling into his side, pulling him close with your arms.

He chuckled softly through his nose. The air of it ghosting into your hairline. There must have been something endearing at the way you smiled once you finally ran your fingers along his back into the soft tresses of his hair. Much shorter than it had been since you’ve known him, but much cleaner and much much softer.

He kissed you. Slow and hard. You were too persistent too fast and you gripped his hair harder, pushing a little too much. He snaked his hand along your neck and gripped your hair from the root of your scalp, forcing your head back with a pull. You fell out the kiss with a sharp moan and he quickly silenced you with another kiss, setting a slow firm pace. The feeling of his mouth against yours was hot and wet in all the best ways, his tongue driving you over the edge that much more.

Your mind wandered off to the first kiss Nick had stolen from you. Back when he was the annoying boy that hung around your house. An annoying boy your mother insisted watch over you and Winston when she wasn’t home.

You’d never told anyone about it and never will. That the gangly awkward dork with the bizarre anger issues was a good kisser.

But now?

This handsome rugged man? Put that kiss to shame, replacing it with a memory you're sure would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Nick,” you pant once he broke the kiss, “please.”

“Don’t beg sweetheart.” He moved you onto your side, pressing you against his back. “I’m not done with you yet.” His voice hot in your ear as he cupped your cheek with his hand. His thumb moves in slow circles on your cheek before moving your head to the side towards the mirror.

Your lips parted, seeing yourself lay against his hairy chest. How his legs intertwined with yours.

Your mouth formed a silent o when he grabbed your leg by the thigh and placed it over his hip, exposing your weeping pussy and his thick hard dick.

Taking his length in his hand he slapped it up against your folds, making you cry out. You returned against his chest to get away from the pain, but his teeth sunk deep into the skin of your shoulder, keeping you in place as he started sliding his dick along your pussy.

“Say it.” He moaned in your ear before mouthing along your neck, soothing the marks of teeth he left there, “wanna hear you say it.” He kissed you again. “Need to.”

“I’m so,” you shuddered out a moan when he slid inside of you in one fluid motion, you gushed around his cock as he stretched you out. Despite how big he is, there was no resistance, “so pretty like this.”

You couldn’t take it.

Nick’s hard fast pace, the sight of his cock going in and out of you, his face when he moaned, the scratch of his beard on your skin as he alternated between biting and sucking at your neck, his face when he moaned and panted in your, it was all too much.

“You're pretty.”

Nick’s voice startled you.

“Gorgeous,” he dug his nails into you,” perfect.”

Your eyes snapped towards his in the mirror. The slap of his hips into yours, the sound of it, making your eyes water and your pupils darken, “you’re perfect.”

You squeezed around him with a cry and you both came.

Nick let go and you both collapsed into one another. Your resounding pants filling the room. As Nick maneuvered his arm around your shoulders, you found a comfortable position to snuggle into his side, burying your face onto his chest. Your hand rested beside your head over one of his pecs.

You experimented with a squeeze, surprised to feel how soft and pliant his chest was under your hand.

He swatted your hand away with a slap.

“Ow,” you pulled your hand closer to your person, “what was that for!”

“Why did you squeeze it that hard,” he yelled a little too loudly in your ear, “that hurt!”

“Well I’m sorry!” You huffed.

You both settled back down. Yelling at each other took too much energy that neither of you had at the moment.

The sight of Nick’s chest rising and falling made your stomach drop and your pussy throb.

“I—“ you started to say.

“Nick, you in there?” A voice called out.

“Shit.” You froze.

Nick's eyes closed tightly, a vein starting to pop out the side of neck. Balling his fist, he let his head rest on your shoulder.

“Today of all fucking days..” he muttered, “now he wants to finish practice early.”

“Where’s my sister at man?”

Winston opened the door and in quick panic you threw a sheet over your head and Nick threw some pillows on top of you and awkwardly threw his legs over the weird pile you were under.

“Oh hey,” Nick trailed off casually, “what’s up?” He rubbed his eyes and stretched.

“Weird napping set up.” Winston interjected earnestly.

“Anyway, Coach said I should leave and spend the day with my sister since she came all this way just to see me. Do you know where she went?”

“Uhh, no?” Nick lied horribly and hoped his back wasn’t sweating.

Winston frowned for a moment.

“Well. . .”

You sneezed.

Everybody froze.

After a moment of awkward silence, you pulled the sheet down to reveal your eyes and nose.

“Hey, Winnie.” You said weakly.

“Oh. My. God.”

Nick took his legs off of you and sat up.

Thankfully, at some point before Winston barged in, he put on some boxers.

Defeated, Nick covered his face with his sands, making a loud indignant sound and a choke before clearing his throat and acting like he didn’t just do that.

“Winston I can explain.” He started with a strained voice. “I—“

“Are y'all playing hide and seek?” Winston put a fist over his mouth with a grin.

“Stripping hide and seek.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You know I haven’t lost a game since 93 right?”

“Sure, Winston,” Nick nodded with a deadpan expression “why don’t you go count, and we’ll hide?”

“You better be quick,” he pointed, “I’ll getcha!”

Nick winced as Winston gleefully left the room with a giggle.

“Well, Winston’s still stupid, and you’re still pretty angry.” You said it almost questioning but not quite, desperate to make something feel normal again.

Nick nodded in agreement.

“And you still pout when you want me to kiss you.”

You were about to ask but he was already throwing your clothes at you.

“Get dressed so we can leave.”

“Leave?” You got up and started putting in your pants, “but Winston’s counting?”

“And while he’s finished he can run around looking for us in an empty apartment while we’re at the bar.”

You put your shirt over your head with a frown and shook your head as you followed Nick out his bedroom door.

Some things never change.

[jesuisnilunnilautre]

listen gorgug is NOT a himbo and it is ONLY because he is NOT BEFFY ENOUGH. he is a SKINNY LITTLE GUY with SURPRISE MUSCLES. he is BUILT like a STRING BEAN. that is NOT himbo stature!!!

[lettersregardingjeeves]

Leave It to Jeeves - The Unused Images

Halloa! I’m back, and ready to chat about more pictures I didn’t use.

Well, here I'm being a bit nitpicky, I confess, in a way that isn't awfully fair to the original artist. But I'm the curator this round, what? So some freedom to pick and choose is allowed, I think. The Bertie here does look a touch on the old side, but not awfully so - and this is before "Jeeves Takes Charge", anyhow, so that would also be an unfair criticism even if I leaned into it - but my main trouble with these images is that Bertie is canonically a slender string bean of a man, while this Bertie is considerably heavier. The artist had no way of knowing this, so he certainly cannot be blamed, but due to the depiction not matching the Bertie we as a society know, I did not include these images.

(For the record, the reverse happened with the magazine illustrations of Wodehouse's Ukridge stories, which had an awful tendency to make the canonically tall and heavy James "Corky" Corcoran (who is, believe it or not, seemingly unrelated to this story's Bruce "Corky" Corcoran, though I like to pretend they're cousins) much too small and skinny to be plausible. But more on that when the time comes.)

Everything about these expressions cracks me up. Corky's smug face. The absolute nothingness behind Bertie's eyes. Incredible.

Once again, Tony Sarg kills in expressions. Definitely the one reason I'm sad about not including them.

[hawksinacup]

Okay I like sting bean hawks, but hear me out, hawks would have massive pecks/chest and back muscles because of his wings…and then like have a skinny waist….like a triangle/Dorito 

IIRC Hawks has complained about his body not being able to accommodate his wings properly. But in light of your comment. I do think rather than having a bugger chest, Hawks would likely benefit more if he had a spare set of pectorals. If you were to think of it on an anatomical level, the pectorals help with the movement of the shoulders and arms. For the movement of wings, you would more than likely need another set of pectorals to help, along with stronger back muscles.

Hawks, per say, wouldn't need more muscles to accommodate his wings, but rather, he would need a body that actually accommodates his wings.

I think a good way to explain it would be your stereotypical harpy or wyvern. Their arms are wings, meaning they have no hands, so they would have no need for an extra set of muscles. Harpies are depicted as a part woman part bird creature in mythology. However, with how the body is *typically* structured, their bodies are more bird than humans, so the muscle structures would look different, yet it would accommodate for the wings.

Wyverns are depicted as dragons who have wings for arms rather than a typical western dragon that has wings on its back. Western dragons are usually depicted as having strong, large bodies, and while we can not actually confirm their muscle structure, we often seen them design with large chests, and more than likely a complex muscle structure to also accommodate for their wings. Wyverns wouldn't need as large of a chest as a western dragon and more often depicted with slender bodies compared to that of a western dragon, yet still are big since they need strong muscles to fly.

Let's take Hawks now. Being human, his body is not adapted to have wings. If you look at, say, a body builder and how they large muscles, if you gave them wings, what muscles exactly would be used to promote the wings to function? None, why? Because every muscle on the human body already has its use and purpose. Simply put, you would need extra muscles on your body that are specifically for said wings. If we were to put that into Hawks, his body would look different. If we were to go off of how his quirk is used and how long he has been training his quirk, and if he did have the proper muscles to accommodate his wings. Hawks would look completely different. Yes, he would have a winder chest, but he would have extra muscles, such as extra pecorals and even extra back muscles.

Anyways I got off track here.... sorry about that >.>

Yes, he would have a strong upper body, but IMO (OPINION BTW) his entire body wouldn't also be as strong. He is meant for speed, not strength. We don't know a lot about how his wings actually work if you think of it from a muscle standpoint. Hell, with how his quirk works and what we have seen in the manga and anime, we can't even guarantee he has wing bones.

That being all said. I'm just rambling, so ignore me. But I still prefer string bean Hawks over muscular Hawks :P

[world0fmadness]

I WANT LOVE

ivar “ zephyrous ” enger x reader

♡ general dating headcanons for ivar!

୨୧ still have a lot of other requests in the works! just trying very hard to not burn myself out and taking it slowly which seems to be working <3

♡ requested by anon | view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: i want love by akira yamaoka - burial by ghost bath

♡ i can see ivar being quite selfless when in a relationship with you!

୨୧ he just wants you to always be really happy with him, he can’t ever bare the thought of you being unhappy or unsatisfied with him…

♡ he is always looking to please you and he seems like quite a bit of a goofball at times so whenever you’re feeling a little down? he’s always cracking jokes, even making jokes at his own expense and making strange faces if they make you perk up a bit and laugh

୨୧ you know that one jacket he had? the purple, kind of vapourware windbreaker one?

♡ yeah, he lets you wear that all the time! even when it’s not that cold out and you haven’t asked him for it, he just likes seeing you wear his things! even if his clothes aren’t particularly oversized on you at all

୨୧ because let’s be honest, i think we all know he isn’t the biggest or most built dude…

♡ as handsome and beautiful as this man is, we have all seen his arms…

୨୧ the man is a twig! this is not me body shaming him, not at all, i’m just making an observation that he was very string bean built and didn’t have the most muscles at all

♡ this is something i can see him being kind of insecure about when being in a relationship with you!

୨୧ ivar kind of really wishes he was able to pick you bridal style or give you piggy backs when you’re drunk or your feet hurt…

♡ but unfortunately he just kind of can’t, no matter how skinny you are too, he just doesn’t have the arm muscles to hold up the weight of another human

୨୧ but that’s not to say he hadn’t tried! most likely when he’s half drunk or something, he’s came up to you from behind and attempted to pick you up bridal style to carry you off into a room or something but literally right after slipping his arms under your knees and pulling you up, he’s tumbling right over you and crashing into the ground, taking you down with him as you both let out drunken giggles

“ fuck… oh, fuck… ‘m sorry, are you okay? fucking dropped you… ” ( you’re both just giggling so hard about what just happened, he can barely even get the words out in between his laughing )

♡ so yes, when he’s a little drunk he’s much less insecure about it but when sober? that’s when you might have to love up on him quite a bit and tell you it’s really not a big deal at all and you love as he is

୨୧ honestly, from some pictures i’ve seen of him, some of his shirts look like a size small!

♡ so if you’re actually built a little bigger than him, wether it be more muscular, busty, a little chubby or just generally bigger and his shirts fit you tight, hugging your chest and waist?

୨୧ i will not lie right now, ivar is kind of into it… especially when you wear them with nothing but underwear… he thinks you look crazy hot with the shirt hugging and showing off your body, nipples poking against the fabric as the hem of the shirt continuously rides up to just above your belly button

♡ i’m not exactly sure why i think this but i feel like ivar is very fragile and soft, kind of insecure

୨୧ he needs a lot of reassurance and comfort kisses from you, please just tell him you love him and tell him how talented you think he is!

♡ it’s one of the reasons he enjoys playing his guitar around you so much, he gets praise from you and that just makes his heart flutter and his face redden

୨୧ seriously, he loves when you praise his guitar playing! he’ll often sit on the edge of the bed as he plays whilst you sit behind him with your head resting on his shoulder or you’ll stand in the doorway watching! he cannot look up at you though, he gets so red and shy when he sees the look of love and admiration in your eyes… if you give a quiet applause afterwards? he’s so so so smiley and bashful! pulling you to him by your hand before placing a soft kiss on your lips, mumbling against your lips

“ thank you… for listening to me play, love you so much, y’know that? y’mean so much to me ” ( no but you really do, i feel like within the first week of meeting you or dating you, ivar just knew you were the one for him, you are his eternal love )

♡ when ivar goes through some issues with alcohol, you would probably be one of the things that really helps him pull through to the other side, you’re what really helps him escape the downward spiral

୨୧ most likely, it’s not even for himself! he couldn’t care any less about his health and whatever at the time but he cares about you and he loves you so so so much! if you ever threatened to end things with him due to not being able to just watch as he destroys himself, it slaps him with reality really fast… it’s seeing you be so upset and distraught at his drinking problems that makes him want to quit and he does, for you

♡ whenever he comes home from band practice or whatever else with darkthrone, sometimes he’s just so tired and worn down, wanting to do nothing more than collapse into your arms and sleep…

୨୧ often times he’ll rant to you about how he feels just a bit left out from darkthrone and whatever else, just stroke his hair and let him get it out! some loving and reassurance from you makes him feel better, you always make him feel better

♡ just before drifting off to sleep in your arms, he’ll usually mumble some kind of apology into your chest, as if he needs to apologise for anything

“ sorry… know it’s not a big deal… thanks… for listening, and loving me, i mean… ” ( he really is such a sweet guy who needs some loving )

୨୧ when ivar wakes up, still nestled in your arms, he always lets out the quietest yet loudest sigh of relief… he’s just so scared that one day you’ll get tired of him being whiny and always so upset after band practice, one day he’ll wake up and you’ll have packed up and left him

♡ he won’t ever tell you about these fears though, never! he’ll just lay back down and fall back to sleep on your chest, savouring the feeling of love and peace he feels in your arms, just in case…

୨୧ i don’t know, maybe i’m wrong but i just feel like he’d have a major fear of losing you! you’re the best thing to ever come into his life, he cannot even imagine waking up in the morning without you being beside him

♡ speaking of him being nestled in your arms, ivar is such a cuddle bug! but i actually can’t see him being the big spoon, he seems like a little spoon to me!

୨୧ he just likes laying on your chest as you stroke his hair too, he nearly purrs like a cat when you gently scratch his scalp and kiss his head

♡ ivar is not a huge morning guy, if it was up to him, he’d stay cuddled up in bed with you all damn day, just talking and sharing kisses, maybe getting a little down and dirty if you feel up to it <3

[amberstormblade]

Started daydreaming about a Dominion AU at work today and had to write down some thoughts for it before I went to bed because now I’m sad that if I ever wanna see content for it I’ll have to probably make it myself so, ye.

Viking Piglin AU

Set early Viking’s season one

Viking goes to see Joy for some reason only to find that she isn’t there

Viking decides to snoop

Joy has been working on a potion to help translate speech between players and full piglins

One potion had the unusual effect of turning overworld matter into nether matter

(“My beetroots have been crimson roots for two weeks!”)

Joy set that one aside for further experimentation

Joy went to go find Legundo to properly test the translation potion since he’s fluent in Piglin

Legundo notices Viking poking around in Joy’s house and decides to try and spook him

Viking drops the potion he had been looking at and is transformed!

He’s alive again!

Grows tusks and tail

Nails get tougher

More easily distracted by gold

Normal heart rate instead of very slow, near dead one

Malnourished

You can’t tell me that existing purely on golden carrots is good for a person

We’re gonna pretend most of the people get together for a “check in” dinner once a week and he’s always got some convenient excuse to miss it

Skinny tall string bean of a man

Viking panics, understandably so

Legundo’s instincts kick in at seeing a younger piglin in distress

Although he wasn’t the leader of his group he still had responsibility

The younger piglins all enjoyed training with him

Viking would probably be close in age to a recent “warrior graduate”

A Piglin that was fresh out of training

Still young and needing protection, usually paired with an older warrior to do guard duty around the perimeter and stuff

It’s revealed that Viking will probably be stuck this way for a while (or forever)

Legundo decides to teach him how to be a proper Piglin

Starting with helping him to stop running into walls

Phantom instincts are hard to shake

Legundo and Viking bond!

They’re brothers now your honor

Lots of emotional talks once barriers are broken down

Viking finally opens up about his past/lack of memory??? Real Not Clickbait??

Others get roped in too

Starts as increase of dinners to try and keep tabs on Viking

Eventually everyone starts getting together because they learn to enjoy each other's company.

SLEEPOVERS!

GIANT CUDDLE PILES!!

They all just become one giant, strange interconnected found family

People would figure out Jaime’s corruption sooner?

Maybe spawn wouldn’t be doomed?

Lots of stuff to think about

[monkee-mobile]

i feel like i can’t put into words how sweet it is when the monkees all cling to Mike when they’re in a scary situation (especially davy, that kid is all bark no bite, second something’s after him he’s running to his mumma aka. Michael the goddamn string bean in a wool hat, who just gives the most exasperated face ever to the camera and waves around like grass in the wind because his skinny body can’t handle the power of a 5’3” british boy grabbing his arms)

but like, mike makes them all feel safe and it’s just so damn sweet. like, the show didn’t have to do that, but they did. they just decided that these kids need a mother and that mother is fucking mike.

i’m sorry, i just have so many feelings about it. You know peter’s like glued to his side, especially after the devil and peter tork. Mike protects them, it’s his nature, and they all feel safe with him. AGH

[s1ater]

death era.

part eight of n/a.

ricky rocks. flash back episode !!!

“everyone needs to just shut up,” echo doesn’t look at any of them and yet her eyes are wild and unable to stay in one place. “we have to figure a way out of here.”

she can feel her heart in her throat upon the dawning reality that she had no plan and half the people in the room with her were a bunch of dimwits.

“that’s kinda a hard thing to do when you told us to shut up.”

“keep your comments to yourself before i take that gun back, john.”

murphy rolls his eyes at the sound of his name; at the sound of the way she says it. it’s always so hostile and harsh whenever it comes out of her mouth and it only makes him hate it more.

it reminds him of the way his mother used to say it.

“why don’t we just leave, simple as that?”

“we can’t just do that, murphy. there are still other people here,” raven still sits on the floor, watching the two.

“yeah, people that are probably already dead and if not, who do you think the ones that are gonna get killed going to be when we come to their rescue?”

“that’s so classic of you, murphy.”

“what do you suggest we do then?” he turns his chin fast to face octavia who gives him an irritated look.

wow, wasn’t he just a crowd pleaser today.

“we wait till bellamy wakes up.”

“bellamy?” murphy looks disgusted, glancing down to him and his peaceful state in octavia’s lap. “i like him much better knocked out.”

“we don’t have time for that… or this,” echo shakes her head, interrupting the nasty stare octavia gave that would ultimately lead to an argument. “you better hope he wakes up soon because i’m not carrying him.”

“maybe if you didn’t hit him so damn hard.”

“hey, shut it, murphy. otherwise you’ll be right with your pal, bellamy.”

he grumbles, turning his shoulder away from them, “what’re you looking at?” his eyes suddenly meet the face of a boy he had never notice up until now.

the skinny boy with black hair was quick to put his hands up in defense, scooting further away from the menacing stare murphy continued to force in on him.

“that’s what i thought, string bean.”

this was the least ideal situation to be in with the least ideal group to be together. outside of this moment, not one of them would have willingly step foot to be among one another.

although the base was big but filled with a small amount of people, their worlds barely ever collided.

“alright, what do you wanna do echo?”

she blinks, looking down to raven who looks like a little kid with her legs crossed. she feels her chest swell up with importance at the undivided attention and suddenly a drive of adrenaline flows through her veins once again.

echo hated everyone. it was easy to tell. her parents died at her ripe age of 7 where she was handed off to a strict military woman who beat her own values of no remorse, empathy, or emotion into her. that woman died the moment the virus took over the base and echo couldn’t have been more happy—until they didn’t let her leave.

no one was allowed to leave, for their own good as they would say. the remaining adults of the base had an idea that they could repopulate and help rid of the disease that turned the dead into living once more. but here they were, the remaining adults being what they feared and echo being in a room of people she hated—except raven. now, she could stand raven.

“i’m all ears. whatever you need me to do, i’ll do.”

echo smiles, yeah, she didn’t mind her at all. raven was the only one with a couple brain cells who could function.

“try to wake boy toy up, then let’s kill the rest of these fuckers.”

**

it didn’t take much to wake bellamy up, but it took a lot to calm him down.

“why would i trust you?”

“because i’m the one with the gun,” her teeth shine past her lips in a snide look at his clear upset state.

it only provoked him more, taking a step closer, but echo is far from fazed. she knew bellamy and the type of person he was, therefore she felt far from inferior when around him like she knew he was trying to do.

before the fall, echo spent her whole first year in basic combat training with him due to him shadowing the instructor. he was a douchebag who thrived on proving his superiority over the younger trainees, including echo.

“bellamy, just listen to her,” octavia forced herself into his peripheral vision, hoping he’d step away from her. “we have no other options and echo knows what she’s doing.”

“and i don’t?”

“you seem to have forgotten she had you out cold moments ago, buddy.”

“murphy, i’ll kill you.”

“woah, woah, woah,” mock marinates in his voice. “she’s the one with the gun, don’t think she’ll let that happen.”

“i wouldn’t be against it.”

civility was hard to achieve, especially in the beginning.

“will you all just calm down,” raven stands a foot back with her arms crossed. “if we want to get out of here, we need to execute now. the breakers are all the way on the other side of the building and who knows how many scavs are outside this door.”

it took five minutes for raven to come up with a plan to get out and that was through the breakers—the security and maintenance room, where everything was watched through cameras and where the switches to shut down all the power was. in order to leave, all the security monitors, locked doors, and ultimately the big gate at the front of the base that kept all of them in was all electrically ran and needed to be shut down.

so to get out, shit needed to be shut down.

bellamy finally breaks away from echo, turning his gaze to the other girl, “how do you expect to do that with the millions of doors that you all need a pin to, leading to that room?”

“it’s not hard,” a voice sounds from behind them all, causing them to turn. “if you break the panel and move one wire to another, the door opens just as easy as if you were to know the pin.”

they stare at him blankly in surprise as raven tries her best to conceal her smile, already anticipating this. the boy swallows nervously at the pressure of their uninviting stares suddenly on him, “it’s easy. a 10 year old could do it.”

bellamy narrows his look on him even more, “what’s your name?”

“monty. monty green,” he takes a step closer, almost expecting to shake his hand—but bellamy’s hostile stare made him rock back on his feet.

“and then after that, monty? the only people who had access to the breaker room were ones with a key card.”

“good thing i’m in charge then.”

they all turn back to echo who holds out a white and green plastic key card in all its glory.

“how the hell did you get a key card? sargent wouldn’t even clear you for a gun,” murphy narrows his gaze on her with confusion, slowly stepping forward.

“they don’t even hand those out to guards.”

“well, good thing i’m better than a guard,” she smirks, stuffing it in her back pocket. “now let’s go.”

**

the hallways were eerily empty.

echo had her mask pulled back up to the base of her face where only her dark eyes were the most distinguishable feature to the others. she scanned the little space that filled the area, leading the group down what seemed to be the hallway to their doom.

she didn’t like it one bit.

moments before she had knocked bellamy unconscious, she had watched the scavs from the watch tower take over every little home and minor building, burning them to the ground after ransacking each one. they would have no where else to be but the inside of this building—and yet, no one in sight.

“this doesn’t feel right.”

“what, you scared?”

murphy doesn’t reply.

“maybe they just all left.”

“that’s wishful thinking,” echo’s low voice sounds hollow as she leads them around a corner and toward the entrance where authorized staff only was printed largely on a sign nailed to the surface of the doors. she gripped her rifle tighter and tighter as seconds passed by with no sound, no movement, and no person was in sight.

bellamy followed from the back with his own gun that echo was reluctant about giving him until he reminded her he was their best shot.

the silence was a blessing. there were nights where bellamy longed for this type of stillness, for the break down of his up tight lifestyle. and now here it was, handed to him in his lap, yet something was off and this felt even worse compared to the norm.

“already, green, time to shine,” echo dropped her gun from position as well as pulling down the cloth that concealed her face. she glanced to bellamy, sharing a look of agreement that they were still in the clear. “get this door open and you’re golden.”

he nodded, dropping to his knees before the pin pad that was placed neatly next to the steel door. they watch him pop the cover off simply before once again pulling another layer that concealed the wiring to the door. he rips at the nest of colorful snakes before glancing at them all, smiling at their narrowed looks.

“i used to watch my dad do this all the time as a kid, wanted to be just like him. so while you all were sent to train and beat your bodies down, i was taught this,” he works as he speaks before finally pulling away and looking to the door. they follow his gaze but are met with disappointment when there’s no sign of acceptance to his fiddling.

monty makes a sound of confusion, a crease forming between his brow as he looks at the door, then the mangled key pad.

“i’m guessing that’s not supposed to happen.”

“what clued you on to that?”

“they must have changed their wiring in the past month, otherwise i don’t understand why this wouldn’t have worked,” he still stares at his work, disappointed.

“so… we can’t get in?” bellamy is losing patience.

“no, we can. it’ll just take me a lot longer.”

“how much longer?”

“say, 7 minutes.”

“christ,” bellamy pinches the bridge of his nose. “we don’t have that time.”

“we actually don’t know what time we do have… considering-“

“murphy, shut the fuck up. i’m not waiting that long, i’ll find another way.”

“bellamy, you can’t just-“

he’s right back around the corner and toward where they came from with no attempt to listen to their persistence. he was impatient and itching to get out of that building. if he didn’t find a way soon, he would lose his mind.

these hallways with florescent lights were the center of his nightmares. he found himself lost in what was an exact replica of it, wandering and desperate to get out. just like right now.

he grew up in these halls. every waking moment of his life were spent within these halls of the base. he hated it. he wished the scavs would have burned down this building first.

“don’t move.”

there was a nose of a gun suddenly practically pressed to bellamy’s own nose. he jerked back out of shock, neglecting to process who was on the other side of the rifle till he found himself pinned.

“who are you? why’re you here?”

bellamy’s eyes find theirs before anything else till the question is repeated again, “huh? who the fuck are you?”

a girl.

he finds himself slowly lower his arms upon realization, “who’re you?”

“your worst fuckin’ nightmare if you don’t give me a straight answer.”

he recognized this girl.

“relax, i’m just trying to get out of here.”

“hard thing to do when the gates won’t open.”

“you’re trying to get to the breakers,” he speaks his thoughts aloud.

her eyes narrow, “why would you know that?”

“because you’re not the only one trying to escape.”

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