#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

[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???

[gothamite-rambler]

Lady Shiva may not be a traditional, perfect, or sane mother, but I like to imagine that she and her daughter don't have a fundamentally antagonistic relationship. Rather, they simply have some differences in opinions and values that lead to disagreements. These might include mundane issues like favorite pizza toppings, movies, or killing people, you know normal topics.

Lady Shiva rested on the ground, catching her breath after another fierce fight with her daughter. Cass won, but wasn't going to kill the woman as she stated numerous times, although she had grown tired of these usual fights to the death.

Lady Shiva (smirking, wiping blood from her nose): You haven't killed me yet, Cassie. I'm both impressed and perplexed.

Cass (standing triumphantly, fists on her hips): I have told you numerous times I will not take another life. Goodness, you're starting to act like David.

Lady Shiva (sitting up with a pained expression, gently touching her bloody nose): Okay, let's not go that far.

Cass rolled her eyes, a mix of irritation and amusement across her face.

Cass: I didn't even come to fight you. I wanted you to meet somebody. You'll like them.

Lady Shiva (raising an eyebrow, intrigued): A person for me to meet? Hm, you got the upper hand, so I'll allow it.

Cass nodded, indifferent to her mother's opinion, and left the room to fetch the person, returning with Jason Todd in his Red Hood suit.

Cass (gesturing): Lady Shiva, this is my—

Lady Shiva (excitedly interrupting, eyes sparkling): You have a boyfriend!

Both Cass and Jason were taken aback by the question. They exchanged bemused glances before Jason took a few steps forward, stifling a laugh.

Cass (flustered, pointing at Jason): Um, he's not my—

Lady Shiva jumped to her feet and clapped eagerly.

Jason (amused): Aww you both clap, didn't know that was hereditary.

Cass (blushing): Jason, quiet. Shiva, I've never seen you react like this.

Lady Shiva (giddy): I can't help it, I usually can keep myself calm, but I finally meet a partner of hers. You know, I thought you and that Stephanie girl were going to get together, and I support it. She's better than the other seedy options. But Red Hood… I'll allow it. I've heard so much about him. Do I see grandbabies?

Jason was about to tell a lie, but Cass held up her hand while covering his eyes.

Cass (growing increasingly flustered): No! Wait, you'd give a pass for Stephanie? I'll… go back to that later, but he's not my boyfriend! He is my brother!

Lady Shiva (shocked): I never had a son… did that bastard cheat on me?!

Cass (exasperated, throwing her hands up): How does that make any sense? You aren't together and you said you'd screw Batman over David.

Lady Shiva (curious): Is he single yet?

Jason (chuckling under his breath, trying to keep it quiet): This is gold.

Cass glared at him for a moment, then turned her annoyance back to her mother.

Cass (firmly, arms crossed): Remember when Batman, who is in a committed relationship, adopted me because David is a monster? He has sons and Jason is one of them! Jason is my brother now. We're close and I wanted you to meet him because… Well you two share some ideals.

Jason (quickly correcting): One ideal. Only one! I would never kill Cass though, I tolerate her the most.

Cass glanced at Jason then giggled, shaking her head.

Lady Shiva (nodding, recalling): Batman? The one who brought me that skinny white boy and assumed I was his mother? He gave me the truth serum, and I had to set it straight that string bean wasn't related to me—

Jason (insulted, taking a step forward): I was a teenager at the time, harlot!

Cass stepped in front of Jason, pushing him back with a scolding glare, while Lady Shiva studied the taller man, tilting her head with a quizzical eyebrow raise.

Lady Shiva (smirking, eyes narrowing playfully): Oh, you're the kid? I heard about you, good for you. Someone actually ate their vegetables? I do remember that whiny voice though.

Jason (defensive): Hey!

Cass (interjecting, authoritative): Shiva! Stop being rude. Jason is my baby brother now, and you will be nice to him especially since I won this dumb battle.

Lady Shiva rolled her eyes, but a curt smile crept onto her lips as she extended her hand.

Lady Shiva: Nice to meet you again, Jackson.

Jason (correcting her, slightly exasperated): Jason. My name is Jason!

Lady Shiva (unconcerned): They're both J names.

Jason (crossing his arms, sarcastic): So this is what Rose goes through. I get it now. Yeah Cass I don't care for your womb carrier.

Cass (shrugging, understanding): Excuse her; being a bitch is her usual setting.

Lady Shiva (playfully defensive): Hey! I'm trying to be less of a jaded and cruel woman. You see, I met up with this woman, Talia, and she set me straight. She said she went insane, killed her son because her sister—now that Nyssa is a total bitch—warped her mind to do so. Then her dad—

Jason (interrupting, incredulously): Oh my God, she got parenting advice from Talia?

Cass (bemused): Yeah, I'm not loving where this is going.

Lady Shiva (waving her hand dismissively): Shush, let me finish. She said her father put her in the pit that brought her back to life and restored her mind. Great dad, by the way. She said she met her 'maker' and that it changed her. I doubted it… then I got shot and was dead-dead. Went in the pit, and ta-da!

Lady Shiva held out her hands, as if debuting herself as a new woman, and even did a little spin, her evil grin unwavering. Cass looked at Jason, who merely shrugged laughing.

Cass (hopeful): Right, so you stopped killing people for money and enjoyment?

Lady Shiva placed her hands on her hips, scoffing at the question.

Lady Shiva: I'm going to be better than the sperm donor that helped conceive you, but the fighting and killing, that's who I am.

Cass (resigned): Yeah… To be expected. I surround myself with the people who conflict with my morals, but so does the rest of my family.

Jason (taking that as a compliment): Aww, thanks Cass… That was a good thing right?

Cass nodded.

Lady Shiva (sincere): I'm happy for you sticking to your morals, Cassandra. Well since you and your "brother" did visit and you won our match, would you like a snack? I have these sugary cakes that are big in America. Little Debra is the name.

Cass was about to decline, but Jason walked past her eager to eat the desserts.

Jason: Hold on, sis, I love Little Debbie cakes! We can spend a few minutes here.

Cass sighed, placing a hand on her forehead and a small smile on her face. She shrugged, accepting this aspect of her life.

[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.

[child0feden]

I WANT LOVE

ivar “ zephyrous ” enger x reader

- general dating headcanons for ivar!

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 kind of see ivar being quite selfless when he is in a relationship with you!

✩ he just wants you to always be really happy with him, he cannot ever bare the thought of you being unhappy or unsatisfied with him at all…

- ivar is always looking to please you and he seems like quite a bit of a goofball at times so whenever you are feeling a little down? he is always doing his best to make you feel at least a little better by cracking some silly jokes, even making jokes at his own expense and making strange faces if they make you perk up a bit and smile at him

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

- yeah, he lets you wear that jacket all the time! even when it is not that cold out and you have not even asked him for it, he just really likes seeing you wear his things! even if his clothes are not particularly oversized on you at all

✩ because lets be honest, i think we all know he is not the biggest nor the most built man in the world…

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

✩ the man is a twig! but this is not me body shaming him, not at all, i am just making an observation that he was very string bean built and did not have the most muscles at all

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

✩ ivar kind of really wishes he was able to pick you bridal style or give you piggy backs when you are drunk or your feet just kind of hurt…

- but unfortunately he just kind of cannot manage to do that, no matter how skinny you are too, he just does not have the arm strength to hold up the weight of another human being

✩ but that is not to say he has not at least tried! most likely when he is half drunk or something, he has come 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 is drunkenly tumbling right over you and crashing into the ground, taking you right down with him as you both let out drunken giggles

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

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

✩ honestly, from some pictures i have seen of him, some of his shirts look like they could be a size small!

- so if you are actually built a little bit bigger than him, wether it be more muscular, busty, taller, a little chubby or just generally bigger and his shirts fit you tight, hugging your chest and waist, highlighting your form against the soft cotton?

✩ i will not even lie right now, ivar is kind of very much into it… especially when you wear them with nothing but underwear… he thinks you look crazy hot with his shirt hugging your body, with his shirt showing off your body, he cannot get enough of the sight of your hard nipples pressing against the fabric as the hem of the shirt continuously rides up to just above your belly button and completely reveals your underwear to him… the amount of times you have rode him in your shared bed whilst keeping just his t-shirt on your body as he uses his hands to push it upwards and reveal your tits, the amount of times he has groped your tits through the thin fabric as they bounce along with your movements atop his hard cock is heinous and a lot of his shirts that he lets you wear cannot be worn outside of your apartment now due to some questionable stains that are on them…

- i am not exactly sure why i think this but i feel like ivar is very fragile and soft, i feel like he is kind of insecure about a whole lot of things

✩ 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 is one of the reasons he enjoys playing his guitar around you so much, because he gets real and genuine praise from you and that just makes his heart flutter, that just makes his pale face redden with a heated blush

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

“ thank you… for listening to me play, love you so much, you know that? you 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, he knew you were are his eternal love )

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

✩ most likely, it is not even for himself! he could not care any less about his health and whatever at the time but he cares about you and he loves you 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 is seeing you be so upset and so distraught at his drinking problems that really makes him want to quit and he does, if only for you…

- whenever he comes home from band practice or whatever else with darkthrone, sometimes he is just so incredibly tired and worn down, just wanting to do nothing more than collapse right into your comforting arms and sleep with you

✩ often times he will rant to you about how he feels just a bit left out from darkthrone, please just stroke his hair and let him get it out! some easy loving and genuine reassurance from you always makes him feel better, you always make him feel better about things

- just before drifting off to sleep in your arms, he will usually mumble some kind of little 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 just such a sweet guy who needs some intense loving )

✩ when ivar wakes up, still nestled comfortably in your arms, he always lets out the quietest yet loudest sigh of relief… he is just so beyond scared that one day you will get tired of him being whiny and always so upset after band practice, he is just so beyond scared that one day he will wake up and you will have packed up and left him for good…

- he will not ever tell you about these fears though, never! ivar will just lay back down and fall back to sleep on your chest, savouring the intense feeling of love and peace he feels as he lays in your arms, just in case

✩ i do not know, maybe i am really wrong but i just feel like he would have a major fear of losing you! you are the best thing to ever have come into his life and he cannot even begin to imagine waking up in the morning without you being beside him

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

✩ he just likes laying against your chest as you stroke his hair too, he nearly purrs like a cat when you gently scratch his scalp, brush his long hair back out of his face and kiss his head

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

[ladyeyrewrites]

Feelings Hurled Like Hand Grenades

Read from Chapter One

Rated M

4286 words

TW: homophobia, emotional child abuse

Chapter Ten: Good at Being Lonely

One of the negatives of still trying to have a relationship with his father (and if Tony was honest with himself there were mostly negatives in that equation) was that Tony was expected to stand with his step-mother and younger half siblings as they lined up on Maine Street to watch their Dad ride on the police force’s float in the Fourth of July parade. So, as much as Tony had wanted to ditch tradition and drive down to LA with Mikey and Gina and the girls, he couldn’t. Not without revealing to Dad that he was back in touch with Tommy. Not without sparking a fight.

Not without shattering the cracked peace that was their relationship, revealing the rotten core.

Honestly, it wouldn’t even take something as big as Dad finding out about the reconciliation to widen those cracks. Sports were really the only topic of conversation guaranteed not to end in a fight.

But for now, Tony didn't have to worry about talking with his dad for another couple hours at least, which is a relief. It’d been a couple weeks since Tony’s stopped by. Sure, he’d seen Dad at Noah’s graduation – God he was proud of the kid for pulling that off, sticking it out at high school when Tony couldn’t – but they hadn’t really talked, and Dad had actually been mostly sober for once so Tony hadn’t needed to run any interference or do any damage control. They’d almost been like a normal blended family, except for one snide remark Dad had made about how long Noah’s hair was getting and another push to get Noah to consider joining the police academy which Noah had adamantly refused. Tony had thought he’d have to defend his younger brother’s decision but then Simone had said something to change the subject, and Dad had just dropped it.

And Noah had spent the last few weeks either hanging out at Tony’s or working as a dishwasher while looking for another job. Even though he seemed tired all the time, Tony thought Noah was happier now that he wasn’t in school, more at ease. Probably had a lot to do with not having to be cooped up in the same building with his bullies all day long.

Noah did not look at ease now as Tony joined him, Veronica, Simone and Simone’s boyfriend, Patrick at their spot in front of the barber shop on Main Street as they waited for the parade to start. He looked deeply uncomfortable, shifting his weight from side-to-side, rubbing his palms down the fabric of his basketball shorts. It was insanely hot, like they were ants under a magnifying glass levels of hot, but Tony suspected there was something else besides the heat contributing to Noah’s discomfort. That something else was probably named Patrick. Noah has never really been the type to be comfortable around strangers.

Even if said strangers were string bean teenagers with over styled hair and braces.

It was the first time Tony was meeting Simone’s “cool” older boyfriend and Patrick was nothing like what Tony had pictured. The definition of cool had seriously evolved since Tony had dropped out of high school.

Read more on Ao3 or below the cut

Patrick was far from the tall, chiselled jock Tony had been prepared to intimidate with his height and breadth – which, while not as imposing as Tommy, definitely gave the average guy a run for their money – but instead found himself wanting to warn skinny, well-spoken and clearly creative Patrick away from meeting their dad who would eat Patrick alive and spit out the bones out of some misguided effort to protect his little princess.

“What do you think?” Simone asked as she and Tony volunteered to grab ice creams before the parade started. She had her hair in braided pigtails which actually made her look her age. Lately, it had seemed like she’d been trying to dress and act older than fourteen, and it made Tony feel like he was talking to a stranger sometimes. He’d been worried that maybe she’d been trying to act older for Patrick’s sake, but so far, he’d just seen the goofy, cute side of his little sister when they were together.

“He seems nice. Sweet,” said Tony. He did not say that there was no way Patrick would pass muster with Dad. Nice and sweet were tantamount to weak according to Jonathan Kinard and no way in hell was his baby gonna date a weak man. Tony felt sorry for the kid.

“He is,” Simone smiled. “It’s not weird that he’s older?”

Tony frowned. “He’s what, sixteen?”

Simone nodded.

“That seems pretty normal to me,” he said.

“Really?” Simone seemed relieved. “Some of my friends think it’s weird. Like, they think he’s trying to take advantage of me or something.”

“Has he tried to pressure you into anything?” Tony asked. He didn’t want to be that kind of older brother, but if Patrick hurt one hair on Simone’s head, he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep himself in check. That was more than a little terrifying, not knowing whether he’d keep control or let his fists and rage do the talking like he had back in high school. Only now, it wouldn’t be juvie waiting for him if he did something like that. It’d be real jail, maybe even prison. And then Noah and Simone wouldn’t have him to turn to and Veronica would be on her own when it came to handling Dad.

Simone shook her head. “We mostly just like hanging out and listening to music, watching movies. That sort of thing,” she said. “I honestly don’t think he’s all that interested in doing anything more than kissing. Which is really all I’m ready for. So it’s good.”

“Good.” Not really an image Tony wanted in his head, but at least it made him relax long enough to uncurl his fists. “Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy,” said Tony. “But if he ever makes you feel uncomfortable, you tell me or your mom or Aunt Gina.”

“Not Dad?” Simone asked.

“You really want to inflict Dad on that poor kid?” Tony asked. “Honestly, I’d avoid introducing him to Dad for as long as possible.”

Simone sighed. “Yeah.” They reached the ice cream truck and joined the line. “I mean, I love Dad, and I know he means well but sometimes he’s just so overprotective and it drives me crazy.”

Tony bit back a sarcastic reply about how nice that must be. It wasn’t Simone’s fault their dad played favourites. She should be allowed to enjoy the fact that he didn’t yell at her or push her around or show her the nastiest sides of his temper. “Yeah, he was like that with me when I was little too,” said Tony.

They chatted a bit about Simone’s summer job working as a mother’s helper for one of Veronica’s friends. She really wanted to be a lifeguard, but her birthday wasn’t until the fall so that’d have to wait until next year. It struck Tony then how similar Tommy and Simone were in many ways: caretakers, people who wanted to be of service, friendly with a lot of people, but at their core reserved. Only Simone had a lightness about her that Tommy would never possess. It probably came from being the only girl in a long line of boys, the only one their dad truly doted on.

Again, not Simone’s fault, and Tony wasn’t about to let himself be jealous of his fourteen-year-old sister.

If anything, he was happy to stand between her and their dad’s ire, to shield her as Tommy had once shielded him all those years ago.

Tony let himself embrace the lightness of the moment: the sunshine, summertime, slowdown where every moment felt melted and sticky like ice cream on his fingers. He let Simone’s voice, surprisingly husky for her age, flow over him, soothe the tension that always built in him on days when he had to see his dad.

Maybe he should follow Mikey and Tommy’s suit and go no contact.

But what about Noah and Simone? What about Veronica? What if they ended up needing him and he wasn’t there?

He’d never be able to forgive himself.

And that thought threw a cloud over the blue-sky day. Had Tommy ever forgiven himself for leaving them? Could he?

Would Tony want his older brother to fully forgive himself for what he’d done?

If you’d asked Tony a year ago, he’d have said absolutely not, let Tommy stew in guilt for the rest of his days. But now, Tony wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know his brother’s full story, but he’d heard enough from Tommy and Buck to know that it hadn’t been easy, that Tommy had only let himself be himself recently.

And maybe that was punishment enough.

Tony tried to focus back on Simone describing how one of the little girls she’d been looking after had intentionally rolled a can of soup down the stairs onto her foot and now Simone had a bruise in the shape of the Eiffel Tower on her big toe and the jury was still out on whether she’d lose her toenail or not and how maybe the mom she was helping out didn’t need a mother’s helper but an exorcist because she was pretty sure that four-year-old was possessed by the Devil.

But now the heat was starting to get to Tony and his ice cream was melting over his fingers and it’d be at least an hour before he’d be able to wash them again, so he’d have to stand there in the sun and the heat with sticky fingers. All of that while worrying about how was Mikey doing getting to know all of Tommy’s friends.

“So,” said Simone, linking her elbow through his. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

“I know,” said Tony. “I met him: skinny guy, moderately decent hair. Totally not weird that he’s two years older than you.”

Simone rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t finished yet. I’ve got someone, Mikey’s working on himself, Noah’s doing whatever it is that Noah does. What about you?”

Tony chuckled. He was not in the mood to come out as ace to his little sister right now. “I’ve been busy with work,” he said. “But Kittie’s been trying to set me up with someone.” Which was true enough, just not in a particularly romantic way. Kittie’s friend was also on the ace spectrum and Kittie said they had a lot in common with Tony, but between his client load, hanging out with Noah and making time for Tommy and Buck’s sporadic visits up the coast, Tony’s schedule hadn’t lined up with Kittie’s friend’s.

Which was fine.

They’d hang out eventually, or they wouldn’t. And yeah, sure he did want a relationship – one centred around emotional intimacy and trust, maybe some cuddling, maybe something more if that was what his partner wanted – but it was hard to meet someone who fit his criteria and he was done trying to force himself into a heteronormative, allonormative box when that just wasn’t him.

“Dad’s been complaining about you not being married again,” said Simone with a shake of her pig tails. “Like, it’s not weird for guys your age not to be married these days. Just cuz Dad got married at nineteen doesn’t mean you’re running out of time.”

“You tell Dad that?” Tony asked.

“You bet I did,” said Simone.

“Thanks for looking out for me, sis.” Tony pulled her in close and planted a kiss on the top of her head. He didn’t even have to lean down to do it. At fourteen she was five foot ten. Tony wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d chosen Patrick to date because he was one of the few boys at school who was taller than her. Though it did seem like Simone genuinely liked Patrick, so maybe it wasn’t just an issue of height.

And then they were back where they’d left the others and the first notes of the town marching band started up and Tony tried to put aside all thoughts of family drama, which was easier said than done when a group of fire engines rolled past, and Tony found himself trying to spot his older brother before he even knew what he was doing.

God, he hadn’t done that in long time.

2005

Mikey was supposed to take Tony to the parade to watch Dad on the float. But Mikey had gone off with his girlfriend instead to do gross stuff like kissing and drinking. Everyone said that Tony would understand when he was older. Tony wasn’t sure he would. Some of his friends at school talked about having crushes on girls, wanting to kiss them. Tony didn’t get it. Sure, there were some nice girls at school that he wanted to be friends with, but kissing just seemed weird and gross and wet. And it meant standing far too close together and breathing each other’s air and there was just something that seemed super unsanitary about that.

Part of Tony was worried that meant he was gay or broken because shouldn’t he want to have a girlfriend?

Aunt Gina’s cool friend Siobhan said it was perfectly normal to not want to date anyone, that he was still a kid and there was no need to rush.

But what if he was gay?

Tommy was gay and Tommy had left. Did that mean Tony would have to leave too if he was gay? That he couldn’t play catch with Dad anymore or ride bikes with his friends anymore?

But maybe Tommy wasn’t completely gone.

Tony had heard Dad talking about him a few weeks ago. Dad had known Tony was awake. He’d been on the phone with someone, ranting about how he couldn’t believe that he’d raised a son to become a firefighter instead of a cop, how it was all Mom’s fault that Tommy had turned out the way he had: soft, a pansy.

Tony wasn’t entirely sure what all that meant, but firefighters were cool – not as cool as cops – but they all got to march in the Fourth of July Parade, which meant they were all heroes right? Only heroes got parades. Maybe Tommy would be in the parade like Dad.

Wouldn’t that be awesome?

So, when Mikey bailed on the parade, Tony dragged his bike out of the garage and made his own way to Main Street. He’d ridden downtown with friends before; he knew the way.

He made it to Main Street with its red white and blue bunting just as the marching band started and wheeled his bike through the crowd so he could get a good view of the fire engine as it crawled by behind the old men in the fezes with their funny little cars. He scanned the faces of those burly men in their blue uniforms, trying to see if Tommy was there.

He wasn’t.

Still, Dad was on the police force float, wearing mirrored glasses that hid how blood shot his eyes always were. And after the parade, they went to a picnic at the park near their house. And that’s when Tony asked Dad, “why wasn’t Tommy in the parade?” His sense of self-preservation lulled to sleep by too many hot dogs and too much ice cream.

Dad looked around like he was trying to see if anyone was listening before whipping his glasses off and looming over Tony, sun at his back so he was only shadow and size and the sour stink of beer on his breath. “Why on earth would that fairy be in the parade?” Dad asked.

Tony had a brief imagining of his older brother dressed as Tinkerbell, confused as to why Dad would call Tommy something like that. “He’s a firefighter,” said Tony.

“Not here, you dumbass,” said Dad. “That sissy wouldn’t dare step foot back in my town. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Dad had been doing that more recently, calling Tony names. Tony wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but he was trying to be good: keeping his grades up, doing his chores, staying quiet, keeping out of the way. Not that Dad seemed to notice.

And maybe that’s why Tony pushed the issue of his eldest brother, when normally he wouldn’t have. Maybe he just wanted Dad to take notice of him again. “Where is Tommy?”

“Now you listen here, son.” Dad gripped his shoulders, blunt nails digging uncomfortably into Tony’s skin through his threadbare, hand-me-down tee shirt. The “ess” in “son” sounded like a snake’s hiss, a threat and a warning wrapped up in one. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that name again. That boy is dead to us. You hear.” His voice was low, venomous, tinged with a threat Tony had never heard directed towards him before.

“Yes, sir,” said Tony. “Sorry, sir.”

“Good, kid,” said Dad. He smiled and ruffled Tony’s hair.

That night, Dad almost crashed the car half a dozen times before they made it home and Tony tucked him into bed. Mikey never came home at all.

Loneliness ate into Tony as he lay in bed listening to Dad’s snores. It made his heart hurt and his lungs ache, but he was getting pretty used to that feeling. He was getting good at being lonely.

2025

Tony’s stomach tightened as he caught sight of Dad on the police float, throwing candy, moustache neatly trimmed, signature mirrored glasses glinting in the sun, gut straining over the thick leather of his duty belt.

Long gone were the days where he thought of his dad as a hero.

The only reason he was here was because showing up was easier than the fight that would come if he didn’t. Dad wasn’t above showing up at the studio to make his life difficult, which in turn made the client’s uncomfortable and risked Tony losing his job.

Maybe Tony was just keeping up appearances.

Maybe it was a losing battle.

Sooner or later, he’d snap, or Dad would snap and then the thing everyone knew but never said out loud – that the Kinard family was deeply broken – would no longer be hidden in the shadows of small town politeness. Tony wasn’t sure if he dreaded that day or looked forward to it.

By the time the parade trickled to an end, a headache pounded behind Tony’s eyes, and he couldn’t wait to go home and get out of the sun and have a cold beer, maybe a slice of watermelon, and surround himself with the blissful quiet of his apartment. But Fourth of July tradition dictated that after the parade, the Kinard family headed to the police picnic, where Dad would drink to the point where one of his fellow officers would surreptitiously confiscate any weapon Dad may happen to be carrying and then Tony would haul Dad back to the house to sleep it off on the couch.

And so, Tony perched on top of a picnic table sipping a Sprite, keeping an eye on Dad across the park. Noah and Veronica sat at the table with him. Simone had opted to accept Patrick’s invitation to join him and his parents at their neighbourhood block party. She’d been hesitant to go, but Tony had said he’d cover for her with Dad.

So far, he hadn’t had to.

But Dad was closing in on their position one handshake and back slap at a time and as the number of conversation circles between Tony and his father shrank, Tony gripped his soda can tighter. The sound of his heart racing in his ears grew louder. The beast of his temper stretched, getting ready to strike as soon as the opportunity arose.

He breathed.

In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.

He wasn’t here to fight his father.

Not in a park full of cops, half of whom had had the pleasure of arresting him at some time or another during his career as a juvenile criminal. There were definitely a couple guys on the force who would take distinct pleasure in seeing him slip up and face adult consequences. That was how much of a little felonious shit he’d been.

Behind him, Tony felt more than heard Noah tense as their dad moved another conversation closer.

“You good?” Tony asked. He kept his eyes pinned on Dad.

“He’s gonna make fun of my hair again,” said Noah. He sounded on the verge of tears already.

“I can drive you home if you want,” said Tony.

“I’ll run interference,” said Veronica. “Get him another beer.”

“The last thing Dad needs is more alcohol, Ronnie,” said Tony. He only called her that when Dad was out of earshot. “Maybe get him another burger, steer him back towards the grill.”

“Tony!”

Too late, Dad was now headed straight for them. At least he seemed to be a in a good mood.

“Dad.” Tony nodded. “You were looking sharp out there during the parade.”

“Thanks, son.” Dad stumbled for a second before finding his balance. “Damn tree roots.” He took off his mirrored sunglasses and squinted at Tony, swaying side to side to catch a glimpse of his wife and youngest son. “Where’s Simone?”

“There’s a block party in her boyfriend’s neighbourhood,” said Veronica. “I said she could go.” There was a conciliatory edge to Veronica’s voice, like she was already trying to smooth things over. She even stood up and slipped her arm around Dad’s waist, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Tony was impressed that she kept herself from wrinkling her nose at the stench of Dad’s breath. But then again, she seemed to genuinely love his father which was something Tony had a hard time wrapping his head around. Sure, he loved his dad, but he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Veronica did.

But then again, she’d always been a master at seeming okay, at grinning and baring it, at sweet talking, and soothing. Like Dad was this petty tyrant and she was his fawning advisor, bending and scraping to appease Dad while actually steering him towards a less dangerous path. Tony wondered if his mom had been like Veronica. He didn’t think she had, not with the half-remembered shouting matches he sometimes had nightmares about even all these years later.

“You let her go with a stranger,” Dad tone turned sharp. Several people turned towards them, keeping an eye

“Patrick’s not a stranger, Dad,” said Tony, he tried to keep a relaxed posture, a reasonable tone. “He seems like a good kid.”

“Oh, he does, does he?” Dad focused his unfocused gaze on Tony. “You run a background check on him? What about his parents? What do they do? What neighbourhood? You get his address? Licence plate? What kind of car does he drive?”

Tony sighed and set his sprite down so he wouldn’t spill it if it came to a scuffle. He lifted himself off the table and set his feet on the ground. “I dropped them off,” he said. “I met Patrick’s parents. His dad’s an accountant and his mom’s a schoolteacher. It’s a good neighbourhood, better than ours. I’ll pick her up at ten and bring her home. She’ll be fine.”

Dad seemed to relax a little. “I should still run a background check.”

“That’s an abuse of your privileges, Dad,” said Tony, knowing that was a sore spot for his father.

“I don’t want hear any of your defund the police bullshit, son,” said Dad. “The streets would be chaos without us. You want criminals taking over this town?”

“You and I both know that most of the crime around here is traffic violations and domestic abuse,” said Tony. Not that that diminished the impact of such things on their victims, but their town was hardly under the control of an organised crime syndicate. There was absolutely no reason for their police department to have the bearcat Dad liked to boast about.

“We’ve got drug dealers,” said Dad. “What if this Patrick guy is one of them? Did you think of that? Huh?”

Before Tony could respond, a nearby officer’s radio buzzed and dispatch came over the channel. “This is a district wide alert. Be advised a forest fire has been reported in Samuel P Taylor State Park. All units be on standby to begin evacuation procedures.”

And with that, most of the picnic emptied out, Dad included though he would be restricted to fielding calls at the station’s front desk, given that he was technically retired these days.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. Was it bad that he was grateful to whatever idiot had decided it would be a good idea to set of fireworks in a state work during a fire ban?

#

A week later, Tony was wrapping up a client’s ankle piece – a chain of multi-coloured butterflies – when his phone rang.

“Do you need to get that?” the client asked as Tony sent the call to voice mail. It was Mikey and he really didn’t have time to listen to Mikey ramble on about whatever thing he was hyper focused on this week.

“It’s just my brother, I’ll call him back later,” said Tony. But before he could put his phone back in his pocket, it started ringing again, which wasn’t like Mikey. He knew to leave a message if Tony didn’t answer the first time around. “Hold on, this might be serious.”

He went to the breakroom and answered the phone. “You’d better not be in jail, Mikey.”

“T, it’s Tommy,” said Mikey. “He’s in the hospital.”

[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

[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