#hen-solo

[pocketfullofsimshine]

new farm friend / meet doo / this little chick is apart of a duo / the other chick is named doodle / so now, we have doodle doo lol

[apparently-artless]

Winter Anime 2024 Watchlist

Mashle: Magic and Muscles Season 2

Kyuujitsu no Warumono-san

Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Douchuu Season 2

Boku no Kokoro no Yabai Yatsu Season 2

30-sai made Doutei dato Mahoutsukai ni Nareru Rashii (Cherry Magic!)

Classroom of the Elite Season 3

Solo Leveling

Dungeon Meshi

Ao no Exorcist: Shimane Illuminati-hen

Sasaki to Pii-chan

Recommended to me:

Yubisaki to Renren

Bucchigiri?!

UPDATE: I am currently accepting requests for these series. For more details, CHECK THIS POST. ;)

[pastelnightgale]

I save awful people everyday, it's my job-

Hen

[whydotheycallmechimney]

pls stop dragging chim into ship wars, hasnt my man suffered enough

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 3; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

“What is this anyway—‘bring your girlfriend to work’ day?”

She’s snarky as ever, but with an agitated edge. Nerves prickling when Johnny holds her jacket out for her to slip her arms into. Even that makes her snap—something about not being a toddler that Johnny needs to help dress, but by then his head is in the clouds. In another place altogether. 

The prospect of getting to parade his new girl around leaves him giddy, fox-like grin hard to squash. He doesn’t suppress anything, finds it hard to push things down. When he does, it’s often unconscious. 

She doesn’t like the way he savours her anxiety like a fine wine, sniffs it from the top of her head and groans out his breath, cackling when she tries to stomp on his foot to make him go away. He dances away with her coat, light and nimble on his feet because he’s used to ducking and weaving for her affection. 

“The guys wanna meet ye,” he repeats for the umpteenth time. It’s surprising how many times he’s had to say it. 

“Why? Haven’t they ever met a girl before?” she gripes, swallowing now, her stomach probably cramping and poor bonnie lass, Johnny thinks. His poor, pretty girl is trying to put on a brave face when he knows she prefers being in the backroom of her little flower shop, snipping off stalks and tying pretty bows around pretty bouquets. He wishes he could keep her back there forever—put a lock on the door and come only to smother her in kisses and gorge himself on every inch of her—but there’s a whole wide world demanding his attention. 

“Aye, hen, never a lass as cute and sweet as ye,” he crows, ducking a hand that punches through the sleeve of her jacket in his direction. 

In the car, he drops the facade. Loses his teasing edge. It’s a violent removal, like jolting awake to the sound of someone sawing away at a catalytic converter. If his smile is saccharine, it’s really only a smokescreen concealing the apprehension bubbling away in his belly. 

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel on the drive back to base. Heart in his throat, choking his words and rendering him quiet for once in his life. He hears Ghost’s voice in his head, a low rumbling laugh, tectonic plates shifting beneath his feet. These days, his voice acts as a lodestar, the thing steering Johnny home. 

Months ago, it was the only thing between him and annihilation, the ice cold maelstrom dragging him deeper into its maw. Guiding him through the valley of death. The wound in his arm still aches in the first light of day. His sleep is still wracked by dreams of running down alleys and ducking into houses, the rain pattering against the window panes ominous, a ticking clock, each step having to be precise, calculated, each movement quieter than quiet, fading into the shadows, a cool heart and mind bested by agony from the bulletwound in his shoulder.

And then—Ghost’s voice, low and soothing in his ear, shattering the pain. Ghost’s voice in his ear telling him where to go, how to survive. 

It’s hard to explain. Johnny’s tried. It’s like talking in circles when he opens his mouth and tries to get it out. I trust him with everything in me. He could do anything to me, anything. 

He is no less capable, no less competent. His rank demands respect, and he takes what’s due to him. Since Las Almas, he’s worked across a medley of other teams, even solo a time or two. It changes nothing. He still wakes in a sweat, chasing that voice. It takes him back into the real world. The days burn into the fringes of a memory that he is always living.

“Should I know anyone’s name before we get there?”

Her voice breaks through the noise in his head this time. It’s every bit as precious. 

“What d’ye mean, hen?” he asks, clucking his tongue. Sweats a bit when he realizes how far down the motorway they are now, how long it’s been since he checked out, lost in his thoughts. One hand rests loose on her leg, fingers spread wide and thumb gliding up and down her outer thigh, the other still holding the wheel. 

The pinched look has mostly fallen off from her face, but there’s still a tremble in her lower lip when she says, “Well, I don’t know any of your friends. I wouldn’t introduce you to my friends without telling you their names first.”

“No’ my friends, hen—we’re coworkers.”

She looks over at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m friends with my coworkers.”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s no’ the same with guys. Couldnae tell you fuck all about any of them except their names, to be honest.”

“Oh, don’t give me that—you’re not friends with a single one of them? No one?”

No hunger without resistance. His mouth goes bone dry. He’d be wise to learn that. 

He swallows. “Maybe a few.”

No transaction without accountability. Ghost saves his life and now Johnny has to pay that debt back tenfold. Sinking into the crease of Simon’s voice late at night, clutching it to his chest. Breathing it out. Maybe they are friends. 

He’s a bit show-offy at the base gates, dangling his ID card out the window pinched between two fingers. The civilian guard on duty just waves him on, scanning it only for the sake of the logs. His tires spin in the dirt when he guns it down the stretch of road leading into the base, windows still all the way down. Her hair whips around in the wind until she gathers it all up in her fist and shrieks at him to roll the windows up. 

Johnny enjoys showing off. That’s a core aspect of who he is, his charm. Braggadocious, confident in the way he looks, his physical prowess, his lot in life—so why would that change with his girl? He holds her close with an arm around her waist when he drags her through the rec centre, the building closest to where they parked. 

He gets lost in conversation for longer than expected. Pure gloating about the girl he’s managed to bag. Cooing in her ear when he feels her get a bit uneasy, still timid around the other guys despite having him at her side. He supposes that’s fair. She’s more comfortable around the women on base, a bit freer with her greeting and questions, but there’s still a pinch in her brow that never smooths all the way over.

It takes a while to find anyone that he knows. There are plenty of sergeants and corporals that he’s worked with before, familiar faces and names, but Johnny still glances around the room while they make light conversation with his girl, searching. Looking for something familiar, something that’ll reel him in, make him perk up like a dog catching a scent. 

They cross Gaz in a random hallway on the way to the comm centre, hardly recognizable at first with the darker stubble of his beard grown out. He must’ve just come back from wherever he’d been shipped off to the month previous, no time to shave or clean up. He even smells of old sweat when Johnny leans in for a hug. 

“Is this—?” Gaz glances over at her just once while the question dangles in the air. He looks back over at Johnny. 

They lock eyes. A silent exchange of meaning. 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, steering her in front of him with both hands on her shoulders, showing his girl off like a kid with a new toy. Eyes glinting like, don’t say a word. “Brought her in to meet everyone.”

A molasses slow smile spreads across Gaz’s face. It’s clear why men like him always get the girl. Johnny’s hands tighten on her shoulders. “Nice to meet you��thought John would hide you away forever.”

She glances up at him through her lashes. “You talked about me?”

Gaz shakes his head. “Not as much as you’d think. Took Ghost ages to get it out of him.”

Johnny flushes. “Did no’. Jus’ ‘cause I don’ blab about everything under the fuckin’ sun doesnae mean—”

“John says you’re a florist,” Gaz interrupts, turning the conversation back to her. Her lips split up into a mischievous little grin, delighted at the turnabout, probably delighted at seeing Johnny stumble over his words.

Something about her teasing grin gets his dick hard. More points to the rapidly disintegrating belief that he doesn’t have a humiliation kink. He leans forward, pressing it into her ass, delighted himself when she shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder but doesn’t pull away. 

“So, where’s everybody?” Johnny asks casually, trying not to make it too obvious who he’s referring to. The look Gaz gives him is unimpressed. He keeps running into that brick wall, his thoughts written out on his forehead, obvious to everyone around him. 

“Everyone?” Gaz repeats sceptically. 

“Aye.” His voice is tight, warning. “Everyone.”

“Ghost’s actually on his way here now, I think. We got called over to HQ—s’where I was headed, actually.”

“I dinnae say anything about Ghost, now did I—,” Johnny grumbles, but the words dissolve in his mouth when the man in question comes into the room. 

Sometimes, Johnny has the pleasure of seeing Ghost round a corner. The split second pleasure of being the observer, of dragging his eyes up and over, his chest bursting with a light like dawn cresting behind mountains and splitting the sky. In the field, he’s often deprived of that; becomes used to experiencing the phenomenon of Ghost melting out of the shadows, sometimes scaring the daylights out of him. 

It’s what happens now though. Glancing up on a whim only to see a man round the corner of the hallway leading out of the rec centre, shirt stretched out maddeningly over his arms and chest, muscles bulging like he just came from the gym, still pumped. The shirt’s a little threadbare, something old and worn, and Johnny’s seen it a million and a half times he figures; it leaves so little to the imagination that he’s joked about Ghost busting it at the seams from time to time, only to be met with a steady, aloof stare. 

There’s something to be said about how he’s drawn to people who refuse to scratch him behind the ears until he’s more than proven himself. He works tirelessly for Ghost’s approval, for his girl’s approval. Dogs with their bones, tigers with their stripes. 

He has a balaclava pulled over his face, just a simple black one this time, the underside of his eyes darkened by eyeblack hastily scrubbed off the night before, probably. His eyes scan the crowd, locking on Johnny and Gaz almost instantly. It’s the mark of a good soldier—he doesn’t flounder in the dark. Always finds his target, like a sixth sense for knowing when he’s being watched. 

Ghost course-corrects upon noticing them, crossing the room in a handful of seconds. The curt, “Johnny,” he gets is a bounty, a treasure. He grins back when Ghost glances down at the girl at his side. “That your bird?” 

“Told ye I’d bring her in—s’long as everyone’s on their best behaviour, of course.”

Gaz snorts. “Good luck with that.”

Ghost must cock an eyebrow because he can see the fabric of his mask shift. “Pretty.”

He can’t help the way he preens at that. Tucked away by his side again, Johnny can feel his girl squirm, but he pays it no mind. She’s shy—he’s known that from day one, from the first time she stumbled out from the back of the flower shop and scrunched her nose up at his attempts at flirting. 

Admiration is a smooth, buttery feeling. It keeps him aloft while another couple of servicemen take interest in their conversation and come over, Johnny’s girl at the centre of everyone’s attention. He’d be pricklier about it if he didn’t have a firm hand on her waist, keeping her pressed to his side. 

He soaks up the attention. Drinks it up when someone asks his girl a question and Johnny answers for her or pinches her cheek when she manages to pipe up before him. He knows he’ll get read the riot act when he takes her back home later, but he might be able to convince her to ride him while berating him for talking over her. Might beg her to slap him and spit in his mouth—say it’s the only way he’ll learn his lesson.

Dirty dog.

It strikes him that maybe he’s picked up some bad habits in recent months. He’s never been one to overthink, to worry and fret. Yet, he toils in it now, shovels coals into the furnace of it and gives it life. 

His shoulders go slack, the tension finally ebbing out of him. No longer dogged by the incessant fear that his girl is going to run away, bolt at the first loud noise, or that someone’s going to pluck her up out of his arms. She seems comfortable if anything. 

He’s been overthinking all of this, wrapped up in his head. He can breathe out, unclench. 

When Ghost shifts to stand closer to them, he glances over because that’s where his gaze always goes these days. Seeking Ghost out, finding him in a crowd; looking for his North Star wherever he is, wherever he goes. 

Only to watch in mute horror as, in plain sight, not trying to be discreet or hide it from anyone, Ghost gropes his girlfriend’s ass in front of everyone on base. Just reaches out a big hand and fondles her ass, digging his fingers into the cheek. She freezes, back ramrod straight as she stares ahead, eyes going a bit blank. 

He fails whatever test this is, mouth too dry for any words to come out. Humiliation burns him from the inside out. Another sergeant that he’s worked with before frowns, glancing over at Johnny. Neither of them say a word. 

Ghost tilts his head, staring down at his hand on her ass like he’s contemplating its plushness. Admiring it. With how Johnny stands on one side and Ghost the other, the two of them bracket her, like the soft centre of their trio; nowhere for her to go, a handler on either side. That’s wrong though. Ghost is not her handler—Johnny hardly is, more of a self-appointed one. 

Still he—

He lets it happen.

Contention dies a bloody death in his mouth, massacred. Mangled. He lets Ghost sink his fingers into his girlfriend’s backside and hum a little under his breath before finally pulling his hand away. The others look at him, waiting for Johnny’s reaction with bated breath. A reaction that never comes because it gets strangled in Johnny’s throat. 

“Nice meeting the bird,” Ghost finally says, voice a decibel lower, rough enough to scrape. “Gaz and I’ve got shit to do now. Be ready on the tarmac by oh-seven-hundred tomorrow, Johnny.” 

He grips Johnny by the shoulder before heading off, like he didn’t just grope Johnny’s girlfriend. Like he didn’t just reach down and grab a handful of her ass like it was his to feel up. And Johnny just nods. A placid, docile thing under Ghost’s hand, bobbing his head like a doll. 

Then Ghost leaves, Gaz trailing after him, looking back about a half dozen times to see if Johnny will suddenly follow them until he’s forced to job to catch up to Ghost, the man already yards away, longer legs carrying him fast out of the building. 

They don’t talk on the drive back to her apartment, the inside of the car tense and uncertain. Johnny walks her to the door when he lets her off, but it’s a formality, a chaste kiss at the door instead of the rough fuck that he’d envisioned to send her off. Despite the hard set of her jaw, she doesn’t lambast him like Johnny expected. The silence is worse though, haunting when she shuts the door in his face. 

The drive back to base after the drop off is agonizing in a whole new way. Still pent up, cock heavy in his pants, and fingers drumming over the steering wheel twice as fast now. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? What he wants to do is turn around at the closest gap between both sides of the motorway and speed all the way back, knock on her door until his knuckles blister and bleed, until she opens the door and lets him in, lets Johnny push her to the floor in the entryway and spread her legs, welcoming him in. 

Until she lets him fit his fingers into the marks left behind by Ghost’s hand. 

Cold fire rising up off his bones, and then something hot. And wet. 

The next day at breakfast in the mess, one of the guys says something like, “If Ghost was into my girl, that’s the last you’d see of me and her,” and his mind goes blank and he goes over the table.

[hedgehog-moss]

In winter the morning sun emerges in the woods like a badger from its den, and as soon as the first ray touches the ground of the pasture my donkey takes a very deep breath and prepares to bray his heart out.

Thankfully I managed to fill up the hay bag before the ray of sun deadline, and to catch his attention with the Hay Whistle just before he started. Impromptu for solo donkey: adjourned.

I have to start with hay or else Monsieur Pirlouit will bray for food the whole time I feed the other animals, and braying is the most unpleasant cry of the whole animal kingdom.

Don't look at me like that. It is, and you take advantage of it.

(I watched them eat for a bit, thinking about puns based on boy band names + the word donkey or llama and it took me a moment to realise I had this thought because everyone had the 90s frosted tips hairstyle)

After hay distribution, the hens are freed from their coop and follow me to the kitchen door where they are fed scraps from yesterday's dinner (to start with). On the way back from the coop we make a stop at the greenhouse to feed the fish.

Meanwhile the cats, who sleep in the hay in a nest that they dug, and get woken up when I go get hay (I take it from the other side of the bale so as not to threaten the cat nest's structural integrity), will have had time to stretch (10min) and will be waiting in front of my house. Cats & chickens greet each other from afar like rival gangs, lots of fluffed up feathers & tails in warnings that rarely amount to anything. The hens are fed first since they already had to watch the fish get fed before them. The cats are ok with it because a) unlike the hens they get to go in and enjoy couch & stove privileges, b) the dog is fed last, which preserves their cat pride.

Pandolf isn't vexed because as a dog he is intelligent enough to know I'm not in control of when he gets breakfast; the kettle is. I put the kettle on, get my breakfast food out, and then pour Pandolf's kibble in roughly the same amount of time it takes for the water to boil. As a result there is an indisputable link between the sound of the kettle and his breakfast finally being served. There's no doubt in his mind that I'm powerless to feed him until this mysterious entity has authorised it. If my house was on fire he would save the kettle as a priority.

I have this mental checklist of animals to feed that I recite to myself every morning, it's like a little song... "Lamas nourris, âne nourri, poules nourries, poissons nourris, chats nourris, chien nourri..." Then it's my turn :)

[deadghosy]

How Slytherin boys react to sister! Reader dating:

Warning: boyfriend house not specific, google translated Italian, protective brothers & stalking

Ft. Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

The Riddle Brothers

“WHAT??” Mattheo yells as Draco had told him that you were dating Someone. The thing was that you haven’t told him first.

Why didn’t you tell him..cause now he’s frowning and venting to the oldest riddle that’s reading a book.

“TOM! Our baby sister is dating someone, but she hasn’t said a single thing…I swear what if the guys bad..”

“We could easily kill him. So why worry brother?” Tom says looking up. But it was clear that Tom was mad that you haven’t told him. You always tell him things, so to the point you haven’t told him made him a “little” angry.

Mattheo and Tom looked at each other and nodded as they left the Slytherin common room.

You were walking with your boyfriend when all of a sudden you felt eye burning in the back of your head. You turn around and there you see only mattheo because of course Tom is invisible.

“Mattheo…why didnt you turn invisible when clearly she’s glaring at you.”

“Tom, stfu.”

Draco Malfoy

Ima make your boyfriend here as potter cause it’s definitely gonna be funny.

Straight up gets so dramatic to his knees, screaming for someone to kill him as he sees you dating his enemy. How could you betray him?! Your big brother is devastated

After dinner, he drags you to the common room and becomes a mother hen as he lectures you about how “terrible” pottah is.

“He’s a terrible person! And a Gryffindor. End of presentation…got any questions.” Draco says with a raised up brow

“Yeah, only one. Can I go to sleep now…”

Theodore Nott

IM SORRY BUT HE’S GONNA PULL OUT THE ITALIAN

“Mi stai spezzando il cuore qui sorellina... non puoi uscire finché non sono morto...” (you’re breaking my heart here lil sis you can’t date til I’m dead)

“ALLORA COME CAZZO USCIREI? SONO SOLO UN’ORA IN RITARDO DOPO DI TE?” (Then how the fuck would I date I’m only a hour late after you)

I feel like he would do the hand gesture, 🤌 yeahhhh…..

During the months he would try to give you the birds and the bees talk when you obviously know what it is, and you’re running away from him.

Of course he won’t stalk you, he’s too much of a good brother to do that to you. So you are lucky

But one word that your boyfriend is hurting you verbally, physically, or emotionally. He’s hurting him 10 times bad.

Lorenzo Berkshire

“I wanna meet him.”

“WHY YOU LOOKIN AT ME LIKE THAT?!.”

His soft face turned serious when you told him you’re dating someone. Because you thought Lorenzo would react happy for you.

He’s literally acting like a father as he has the boyfriend in front of him, wand in hand as his smile was tight. “So, I heard your dating my sister. Why?”

Pulls out the “why do you wanna date my daughter/sister” card😭😭

If the boyfriend passes, he’s welcome. If not, find a better boyfriend.

[eddiazx]

woody & buzz - evan buckley x reader

It's just a costume, it's just a costume.

Buck repeats the mantra in his head, as if repeating a fact would somehow make his boner disappear.

The two of you were at Hen and Karen's house, amongst other members of the 118, celebrating Halloween with just the adults since Harry and May decided to take the younger kids trick-or-treating. Buck had decided to make use of the cowboy hat he had from his ranch hand days, and dressed up as Woody from Toy Story. So naturally, you had to be Buzz Lightyear. Your costume was a one piece that was tight and showed a lot more skin than the astronaut did. Not that Buck was complaining, of course.

He may have survived just the tight material on your body, but you were also wearing extremely tall white boots. And Buck couldn't stop envisioning having you underneath him wearing the boots and nothing else.

Since Buck had a shift earlier today and you didn't, the two of you had decided to take separate cars to meet up at the Wilsons'. Buck is sure that if he had seen the costume earlier, the two of you would not have even left the apartment.

You make your way to Buck, who had been leaning behind the kitchen island, trying to hide his arousal from everyone.

"Here, babe," you say, as you thrust a red Solo cup of a mysterious-looking liquid at him. "I don't know what it is, but Karen said it would clear a sinus infection you didn't even know you had."

Buck chuckles, and accepts the cup. He shifts to the right and leans in close to give you a kiss that he hopes conveys thank you and hi, I've missed you, and oh crap, you can probably feel him poking you through his pants right now.

His suspicions are confirmed when you giggle, and quirk your eyebrow at him.

"Hey, I'm only human! Of course I'm going to be turned on when I see my girlfriend dressed like this!" Buck defends himself, waving his hands from your head to your feet.

You laugh louder, and say, "Wow, I can't believe you're dressed as Woody and sporting a woody. The jokes just write themselves."

Buck lets out a noise that's a cross between a groan and a laugh. He doesn't think his boner would quell anytime soon, not when you were next to him, smelling, looking, and sounding amazing.

Buck doesn't have to suffer for long though, because you're tugging on his arm, steering him towards the front door.

"Come on, I already told Hen we would be back later in the night. I have a cowboy to ride."

[slut-for-henry-cavill]

Are my tumblr girlies breathing okay after seeing Hen in The ministry of ungentlemanly warfare trailer!?

Surely we weren't expecting that😭😂

Ps- Yes I too got light headed each time he stuck his tongue out. He's fucking wild in this and I'm here for it

Ps Ps- is it just me or that character seems like mix of Captain Syverson and Napolean Solo lol!?

CANT WAIT FOR TUMBLR TO GO WILD WITH THIS MAN'S FICS!!!!

@shellyshellshell @littlefreya @augustsprincess @mayloma

[anders-holmvik]

can we talk about 8x06 confessions because id love to talk about confessions...

buddie analysis in this ep is well worn territory for good reason bc it was nuts so TRUST i agree w all of it but i wanna talk about eddie solo

first of all lets compare eddie's relationship with religion to bobby's:

in s1, when things become awkward in the confessional between bobby and father brian, bobby suggests that they move out into the pews and sit in the open, and that's where he confides in the priest man-to-man, not man-to-servant of god. and this is because bobby understands his transgressions, how the fire was technically not his fault because the building wasn't up to code, but it was also his fault because it was caused by his core issues (his addiction). Bobby's relationship with god is unwavering and he knows that god forgives unconditionally, but he craves human connection as forgiveness which is why he brings the priest out of the anonymity of the confessional box and out into the open pews. notably, once he opens up to buck chimney and hen about his past, he finds himself a lot lighter and no longer seeks the church for guidance as much even tho he remains explicitly religious. this is pushed further when he and athena bond over church, but it is essentially this human connection beyond his uniform, his "disguise," that starts his healing journey.

eddie, on the other hand, does not seek to connect personally with the priest. when things get awkward in the booth, he doesn't try to connect w him as a man because eddie is looking to be absolved by god. in fact, he pushes harder for the priest to reaffirm god's disappointment in him. he's been spiraling and cycling for so long that he doesn't know where else to turn other than the church. but then he hears from the priest that god provides unconditional love, and eddie doesn't accept that, so he leaves.

no one else around him knows that he's punishing himself in genuinely every aspect of his life so they can't absolve him (which probably wouldn't even make him start to forgive himself because neither chris nor his parents have and he feels like he wronged them personally) so it isn't until the priest, coming upon him accidentally outside of the church, not in uniform but dressed in white (like an angel) opens up to him man-to-man over the seemingly small punishment of choosing water over juice. and the priest is the only one who can connect to eddie in this way because he's also a servant by occupation.

and it's low hanging analysis but the obvious reference to the story of jesus and turning water into wine is invoked here, which is also a metaphor in the bible about balancing work and joy in life.

so eddie is absolved, not through some godly sign, but just by the priest coming to him as another human because god already forgave him because that's what He does. but only because it came unplanned from a Godly figure at a location OUTSIDE THE CHURCH does it work. and he takes off his disguise. This is crazy work because eddie considers himself to not be superstitious or religious yet is the deepest believer in signs and punishments …

the other thing this ep does is that even outside of eddie's storyline, a lot of it is About Eddie. The well call, the divorce call, the cold open call about being "haunted" by a dead woman. The well and divorce calls were for chimney and buck's developments respectively, but they're directly tied to eddie.

the well being the well #obvi but the divorce call first styling the wife like shannon, then featuring the man who sneezed (little outbursts) after telling lies, which resulted in him rupturing his sutures and spilling out. it's a metaphor for repression. i said that as a joke over on twitter a few days before the ep aired but then it actually rang true.. he tried to hold it in and still get away with lying, but it caught up to him and now he metaphorically can't take the truth back because its spilled out. CRAZY WORK. chad and andrew we may need to have words

[pocketfullofsimshine]

[apparently-artless]

ONGOING ANIME EDITS REQUEST: OPEN

And so I decided that I will be lowkey accepting requests for ongoing anime for this season! (o^ ^o)

For the list of series, you can check this POST. You can also check the series on my pinned post under ONGOING ANIME EDITS.

I will also be adding the series below:

Akuyaku Reijou Level 99

7th Time Loop

Himesama "Goumon" no Jikan desu

Requests will be limited to:

Icons (indicate circular/square)

Character gifset per episode

Specific scenes in a certain episode (with/without dialogue)

I will be accepting requests from mutuals, followers, and non-followers. As per usual, anon requests will not be accepted. (ง ื▿ ื)ว

[credits to Remi (@/kithsune) for the dividers]

[chaoticvictorianspirit]

I only meant to reblog this cute little blurb but something within me took over and suddenly there's a whole future au in my tags. Oh well.

Steve who was always kinda sad that he had to be the one doing the romantic gestures for girls and just wished someone would do one for him.

And Eddie didn’t realize this was something Steve needed and makes a joke about it and how stupid those big stuffed animals in Walmart are, right babe? And then he noticed the way Steve is longingly gazing and he’s like oh fuck.

Steve gets a very big stuffed dinosaur for Valentine’s Day, and ever single one after that.

[cactusisconfused]

The artists of the 141 🎨🖼️

-

It’s well known to anyone who knows Soap that the man can draw. Of course not everyone sees his drawings, as most of them are hidden away in his personal journal.

But people see his small doodles on spare papers during meetings or during training. Some of the privates always try to laugh at Soap for it, they learn to shut up after a glaring threat from ghost’s eyes. (Or if Soap himself is feeling feisty, will set off demolitions maybe a bit too close to those hard headed fuckers).

Regardless, Soap had been deemed the artist of the 141 and was thought to be the only one.

That is until Ghost and Soap get together.

They’re on leave and for the first time, Soap is staying with Ghost in his apartment. Upon walking in, the place is very clearly kept clean but has bouts of charm that just scream Simon.

What Johnny wasn’t expecting though, was the amount of clay objects that sit in the building. There are a variety of pots, some small sculptures of animals, plants- what have you.

As Simon shows Johnny around the flat, he stresses that one room- the first one down the hall- is not to be opened nor entered. Soap of course agreed, even if his curiosity went up tenfold.

They go about their leave together and apart. Some days Johnny would go on his runs solo, or go explore the area just for the sake of getting fresh air. Other times they’ll both go somewhere together. Usually in the mornings they will go to a local coffee shop and get breakfast. Maybe go to a book store or play some board games at the flat.

What Johnny has noticed through his stay, is despite how much both are around each other- everyday without fail for at least for an hour, Simon disappears into the room barred off from Johnny.

Johnny, has admittedly tried to get sneak peaks the first few time Simon walks in and out of it. Unfortunately, Johnny always walks away with no more than he started with.

.

It’s towards the end of their leave, Johnny sits on the couch, drawing the painted pot that sits on the kitchen hen counter. It’s a quaint thing, painted with flowing blues of many hues, bringing life to an otherwise still thing.

He’s pulled from his musings though, when he hears the quiet squeak of the forbidden door open and the soft thuds on the floorboard as Simon steps out, dusting his hands off.

Their eyes meet, and Simon jerks his head slightly towards the room, gesturing for Johnny to come in.

Johnny’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he lays his pencil down on the table along with his sketchbook. “Are ye sure?” He asks quietly.

Simon just nod’s silently and crosses his arms as he stands by the door frame. Johnny, while a bit startled by the sudden change in rules about the room, gets up from the couch and moves to follow Simon.

He was expecting…well Johnny really wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting a studio.

The room is fairly small, but each nook and cranny is filled with something. Be it tools or clay, or finished and unfinished sculptures. There are some pots, some wonky or chipped while busts stand proudly on a few displays.

The busts form the faces of people Johnny has never met, but had heard stories of from the sculptor himself. One is of a woman with a depressive but kind smile, another is of a man with similar features to Simon, though a bit younger, his look is self assured, but there’s wisdom in his eyes. There’s another woman, her eyes bright and her smile brighter. Right next to those two is of a young boy, with kind and innocent eyes.

Eventually Johnny’s eyes fall to the middle of the room where a sculpture of sorts is covered in a thin gray sheet.

“Simon this is…” Johnny finds himself with a lack of words, feeling like he just entered the most important museum that will ever exist.

In silence, Simon puts a gentle hand on Johnny’s shoulder and moves past him, standing next to the supposed new sculpture. Once Simon was sure he had Johnny’s attention, he pulled the sheet off revealing a statue of Johnny himself.

The bust is almost uncanny with how accurate it is. From each line of his Mohawk to the small scar that sits hidden on Johnny’s stubbled chin.

The artist within Johnny’s mind reels as he stares at the bust, absorbing every small detail. His lover part of him can only swoon. The sound of a deep rubbling voice breaks him out of his spell.

“Admittedly, it’s not all done. I had planned on doing more than just a bust, but I wasn’t able to get a clay order in on time and well…I had to make do.” Simon speaks softly, his eyes looking to the side rather than at Johnny. Shy, is the word that comes to Johnny’s mind. The Scot can only smile and move to cradle Simon’s face in his hands.

“It’s lovely Simon, thank you.” Johnny says with a soft kiss on Simon’s cheek just for good measure.

Never once had Johnny thought Simon to be a sculptor, yet he finds his lover wears it well.

If the next times that Johnny’s sketches end up becoming sculptures of fine clay made by place scarred hands, Johnny can only smile and kiss his Simon a thousand times more.

-

Something wholesome??? That’s crazy.

Anyway, sorry to the COD lot of you that come here for this stuff and not Ghost band stuff (I fear there will be lots more)- thank you for holding out while the ‘tism goes loco.

[nqueso-emergency]

Here is the thing:

I think one of the writers’ past mistakes was making Eddie and Buck a duo a bit too much.

Now, please! Let me explain.

This choice was sort of an inevitable one because of the rest of the mains - Chim and Maddie come in a package, and so do Hen and Karen, and Bobby and Athena. Natural, as they are all couples. That left Buck and Eddie from the mains, so in turn that meant that, more often than not, they were paired up. Which in itself works, as they are best friends, but it also backfired on them a little bit.

It’s not as evident with Buck, as he hangs out plenty with other characters, but 90% of Eddie’s time that he doesn’t spend with Chris is either with Buck, or in a minor dosis, Carla. That’s what made Buck and Eddie - BuckandEddie. And why having new LI fit was hard, because they not only had to fit with their LI, but also in a way fit, or work with, the other side of that package. Something even OS has said.

With Ana they didn’t even make an effort - I do believe it was influenced by COVID restrictions, but Buck and her barely had any scenes, and even in S5 it didn’t feel like they knew each other. Buck definitely liked her and wanted the best for her, but it didn’t feel like he was familiar with his best friend’s girlfriend.

With Taylor - I think an attempt was made. But even in S4 Eddie was feeling excluded whenever it was the three of them, and Taylor’s presence felt shoehorned in whenever they were the three of them together. Likewise, Buck had naturally more solo scenes with her, so that put the Buddie friendship to the background a tiny bit, and while it wasn’t horrible, it didn’t completely work.

Natalia, I’m sorry, it’s just - not worth mentioning tbh. I didn’t hate her, but she was Buck’s most undeveloped LI, so there is barely a thing to work with her.

Marisol somehow falls into the same category as Ana. It felt like Buck barely knew her, and I don’t know if it was the direction or acting choices, but during 705 it truly felt like that was one of the first handful of interactions between the two. Which felt a bit weird considering Eddie and her had been together for months at thar point. Regardless - Buddie scenes didn’t go down, really. Yes we do have Eddie neglecting Buck in ep4, but overall, season 7 was really good for their friendship.

So. That brings us to their issue. Where they need a LI that doesn’t feel shoehorned in, but also that can be the other half of one of them for some of the scenes off work (like Madney, Henren, and Bathena). A LI that can be that but doesn’t immediately delete the Buddie friendship.

And my God they’ve made it with Tommy.

People are mad because it was him with Buck off work, but this is the way it was meant to be. Because Buck has found a balance - he hangs with Eddie during work and they show us their friendship is still there, and Eddie can hang out with Buck and Tommy and the scene is, honestly, gold. Tommy doesn’t feel shoehorned in, but a natural addition to them. And of course Buddie can still have their solo friendship scenes - and they will, because Tommy won’t be in every episode with being recurring, and not main.

But they’ve made it so it feels natural for Buck to have him off work (and not Eddie), to have his own SLs outside the friendship and they feel integrated and solid - and to have that same relationship fit into the world and not take away from the main narrative.

It’s just. They’ve solved the problem. They’ve found a partner for Buck that works.

Thank you for letting me ramble, queso ♥️

I do agree with a majority of this!! However, I don't know if it was the writers fault technically because general audience members don't see Eddie and Buck as romantic but, I'm with you on everything else.

[tkingfisher]

This is Lucky, with his lady Clotho. Lucky is a bantam Birchen Cochin, and Clotho was having a molt but we don’t mention that because chickens are sensitive about it. As you can see, they are small spherical borbs.

Now, Lucky is a perfect gentleman. His ladies love him, he never offers violence to chicks, he is resigned to Kevin picking him up and woogie-ing his wattles, and he was gracious to the ancient Rhode Island Red rooster that lived out his golden years in the same enclosure. (We have two, but they share a fence.)

Also his crow sounds like a kazoo solo.

But Lucky is also a bantam, which means that all the rage that lies in the heart of a rooster has been compressed into diamond-like ferocity. Case in point: we once had a fox going over the fence to grab hens. One day, the fox grabbed Lucky. We learned this when we found Lucky outside of his enclosure, covered in blood—only some of it his—and so hyped up on adrenaline that he immediately tried to fight Ninja, the top rooster, who immediately realized that he had pressing business under a rosebush.

We have not seen the fox or lost a hen since.

I tell you that story to tell you this one. Kevin has a very large Black Cochin named Pot Pie. He’s about three times Lucky’s size, and he doesn’t so much crow as roar like a T-Rex. He is huge. And every night, for months, he would go to the fence and flare his neck feathers out at Lucky—through the fence—going “If you were over here, I’d sit on you, little man,” to which Lucky would reply “Oh yeah? Come over HERE and say that.”* But they never leave their respective enclosures, because neither of them can fly for crap. Lucky because he’s too short to get over the fence and Pot Pie because he’s too heavy to get off the ground.

(Occasionally this standoff would end in someone trying to jump-kick the other one and getting tangled in the fence. I once had to sit for five minutes with a flashlight clenched in my teeth, untangling Lucky’s foot. But he is, as in said, a perfect gentleman and sat patiently while I did.)

Today, Kevin was on a work call and looked out the window just in time to see Pot Pie tearing across the yard at extraordinary velocity, pursued by a tiny wrathful rooster. Lucky must have found a gap in the fence at last, because he came over and immediately set about putting the fear of God into his giant nemesis.

When Kevin came outside to give everyone treats, Lucky was strutting around, calling the hens—there’s a little chuckle roosters do that means “Look, ladies, I found a treat!”—and surrounded by an admiring crowd of both bantam and full-size ladies.

Kevin escorts Lucky back to his own enclosure, where his own hens greet him as a conquering hero. He then searches for Pot Pie, and finally hears a THUD as the T-Rex jumps down from hiding inside the coop, pokes his head out, and is like “Is it safe? Is Satan gone?”

He did not go to the fence to threaten Lucky tonight. Pot Pie, as Kevin said, Found Out.

Meanwhile Ninja, far and away the most intelligent chicken on the property, decided it was another good day to spend some quality time under the rosebush.

*loosely translated from Rooster, a complex and idiomatic language consisting mostly of insults.