#idk he's fun to write

[dickbaggins]

truly no lann tarv tag on ao3??? but he's so cute with that little mustache! I guess there's no accounting for taste

anyway electuary chapter 3 is live

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[zephyrchama]

OM! Angels seem to have similar natural abilities to demons. Even if the source of their power is different, they're still far above humans in terms of innate abilities.

Basically, MC could be frolicking in a field and playing around with Luke outdoors when he approaches with a handmade flower crown. Freshly picked. Luke himself is wearing a prototype crown of the same variety.

Luke innocently places the gift on MC's head. Within minutes the unsuspecting human breaks out in massive itchy hives. They both panic, Luke reacts by flinging the crown out towards a random part of the field and blowing on MC's head to make the hives stop. Turns out those pretty flowers are toxic to most mortal beings! Who knew!

MC can still keep the crown behind glass and admire it. Luke may feel incredibly guilty though. From then on, he refuses to give MC anything new unless it passes Solomon's safety check first.

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 3 GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 1

As you can see by the title (I need better ideas, you're all welcome to share yours), this is kinda part of "Danny, the Youg Justice member" but as something I have more of actual idea about. So while I encourage people adding their stuff to other snippets, please let this one be. I will be adding to it. It's even partially written :D

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 2

"Hey guys" Danny greeted clearly winded, phasing through the wall. Whole Team turned towards him, some giving him a side eye “Sorry I’m late” 

“You’re good, my dude” Wally answered, patting him on the back as soon as halfa landed, turning into his human form. They gave him a moment to catch his breath(just how fast he tried to fly there?) before grabbing their bags. Dick jumped and threw himself over the speedster's and halfa’s shoulders.

“Happy Harbour, we’re coming!” he yelled.

He fixed his grip when he caught Danny’s quick wince under the pressure as they left the headquarters. Judging by look on his face, Kaldur caught it too.

“So what’s on the agenda?”

“There is an amusement park in city, so we’re going to enjoy our free time there” M’gann explained with excited smile “I can’t wait to see it, I heard it’s fun”

Artemis nodded with a grin.

“I bet I can win more plushies than all of you. No powers,” she demanded after a moment, slamming her hand n a random tree for better dramatic effect.

“Stakes?” he asked, competitive like always. While blonde shared her idea of ‘no locker room duties for a month’, Danny explained all the questions M’gann asked about what even bet was and what stakes meant. Dick was sure she knew the answers to all of them but he didn’t say anything. He was trained well enough to catch Conner listening intently, despite his clear effort to hide it.

It turned into a whole Team competition.

It was going to be an aster.

***

M’gann was having a blast. Everyone already had two to four plushies, stomach full of unhealthy food and manageable nausea from the roller coaster. Wally and Danny were throwing popcorn to each other's mouths, Robin challenged Conner and Artemis to the next game. It really was fun just like she was told!

It was much less fun when literal blast shot a few feets away from them. Ground where it hit was burned. Halfa squealed, projecting a strong wave of distress. Without second thought he threw his hood on and changed his posture, frantically looking for a hiding spot.

Few children started crying, their families scrambling to get away before attackers started shooting again and hurt them. Workers, already used to working in less than ideal circumstances, quickly, but without panic warranted by recognised villains or outright invasion, shut down reinforced blinds and probably walked out to inform someone. At least they didn’t have to worry about potential civilian casualties. 

“Do you know who they are?” M’gann asked, quickly establishing the Mindlink.

“Don’t worry about it” he answered, putting on crazy big sunglasses that Wally won some time before.

“My dude, we just got shot at. We have every right to worry”

“Calm down, Wally. I got shot at, you’re just close by. I’ll handle it” With a ruffle of his hair and a piece of popcorn thrown in his mouth,he turned around, just moment after the next blast almost caught his arm. He plastered a smile on his face.

“Hey, I’ve seen guns like these in laser tag! But I’ve never found them cheap enough to get without selling my kidney!” he yelled enthusiastically.

When the rest of them turned around, M’gann saw ten people in sunglasses and pristine white, holding guns straight from the mad scientist’s lab. THey stood still, projecting surprise bordering on shock. She could also feel hunter's happiness underneath it, intense enough that she considered breaking the ‘don’t mess with people’s brains’ rule. As a treat.

“Don’t worry guys, they won’t harm you. Act like you  don’t believe you’re in danger. Like they're a bunch of LARPers or something” It was easier said than done, especially when Danny, who nearly always underestimated the danger, was so terrified. 

“Who are they?!”

“Wally throw me a bit of popcorn, please” Halfa asked, ignoring Artemis almost yelling in their minds. In turn, he was ignored by the speedster. Three of the men turned to check something on weird sort of scanner. Danny's false smile went from cheerful to embarrassed. 

“Dang me and my poor communication skills” he said, loud enough for men to hear but not enough to sound like he was talking to them, before asking louder “I meant to ask, where have you brought it and how much does it cost?”

This seemed to actually shake men out of their shock. They got furious.

“You won't trick us this time, ghost scum” one of the guys with a scanner snarled. Danny pursed his lips in childish gesture of displeasure.

“Rude much” he muttered as if he wasn’t shining with terror like a lighthouse. Robin perked up as if something got him curious.

“Wait, ghost? What do–”

“What are you cosplaying?” Artemis blurted out. Men got visibly angry but Danny smirked.

“Don't antagonize them,” Kaldur commended. 

“If shit goes south I'll get you out of there, half a second flat” Wally offered.

“Thanks dude. Good job Artemis, they hate to be treated like a joke they are” halfa praised but out loud asking:

“Ghostbusters? No, they had different uniforms. But who else got a thing for ghosts?”

“Quit joking around, we caught you Phantom! You ran far from Amity Park but-”

“Who is Phantom?” Robin interrupted rudely (they deserved to be rude to them).

“Where is Amity Park, Utah? Cali?”  Conner asked, adding fuel to the fire of chaos with barely contained glee. He liked messing with anyone even slightly resembling Kadmus staff and these guys marked almost all of the boxes.

“Illinois” provided chubby man who looked and felt like he didn't want to be there almost as much as they teens did. Danny relaxed slightly.

“Agent W you have no clearance to share this information“

“You were in Illinois and didn't tell me, Tommy?” M’gann finally spoke, jokingly punching his arm.

“I wasn't, I swear! I've never set a foot outside of this state in my life!”

“Quit messing around, you freak!!!” the guy, with the biggest ego and probably the leader, screamed.

“Can I please mess their heads up?”  M’gann asked, pushing hope through Mindlink as hard as she could.

“Again, rude. What did I even do to deserve that?”

“Like you–”

“Operative K, I think they really don't know anything “ Agent W, the nicest out of the batch, interrupted “Maybe it left some ectoplasm on this boy to throw us off?”

“They called you it, Danny” Conner seethed, looking like only Kaldur’s hand on his shoulder was stopping him from punching all of them straight to the sun. M’gann was already reaching for their minds.

“We need to run a scan to be sure. Come here boy”

“Now, who are you?!” Robin got defensive, sliding to shield Danny from asiliants. Conner and Artemis joined him, so clearly furious that M’gann almost retreated from Mindlink. She wasn’t any calmer, it just felt overwhelming to be backed up by five other people.

“It’s classified”

Kaldur took a photo with an obnoxiously loud sound effect. Wally appeared right behind Danny, ready to evacuate him. Artemis barely kept herself from tackling the nearest ‘agent’ to the ground.

“What are you doing, boy?” Operative K splurted, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Calling the police”

“Why?”

“Robin, throw some laws, please”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the boy jumped in gleefully “You assaulted our friend and refused to state why you would have credentials to do so or even who are you. You carry modified weaponry openly in public and I doubt you have a permit, carelessly use it  against minors, endangering innocent bystanders while we’re at it. You disturb public peace. I think that’s enough to get you arrested. Wait you know what, call ‘Supervillain emergency hotline’ instead, this is serious attack”

“Right ahead of you, already calling them”

It wasn’t that big of a problem even if someone tried to qualify this as spam. Young Justice Team was first to respond to all threats in Happy Harbour anyway.

Danny let out a low ‘uuuu’ with a smirk. Someone powered up a gun. Wally slightly raised halfa of the ground, ready to bolt.

“It’s okay young man,” the nice agent started, raising his hands in a placating gesture “We’re searching for a dangerous supernatural entity and may have overreacted. In our defense, Phantom is known to be tricky and we wouldn’t be surprised if it used human disguise to hide from us. Your friend gives off the same type of energy like what we use to track it so we assumed they’re the same. We’re sorry”

“Agent W you don’t have clearance to disclose that to-”

“Operative K, after the last few incidents we have to be more throughout before jumping to assumptions. Agent Gamma wouldn’t be pleased if your temper caused the next scandal,” Agent W look at them again, with a forced ‘warm’ smile “We’re really sorry for bothering you. We have reasons to believe Phantom is somewhere around but don’t worry about it, we will be on the lookout. If you see it, please contact us and we will take care of it” M’gann grabbed the ‘WANTED’ poster from man’s outstretched hand. She barely restrained herself from doing something irresponsible, like turning every man in white into a brainless vegetable.

“Later M'gann”

“But Robin…” she whined before sending a small laugh so they knew she wasn’t serious. She knew that Conner and Danny were anxious about this use of her powers.

Agent’s left and everyone relaxed. Wally put Danny back down and leaned back, jokingly rolling back his arms as if he got tired. Halfa stopped with a loud thump to sit on the ground. He was paler than usual.

Artemis shouted, alarmed.

“That was way too close” he started, aiming for a cheerful tone but missing by a mile “I’m fine, just need a moment to cool down. Sorry for that, guys. I thought I lost them over Ohio”

“That’s fine, personally I don’t care, we knew better than to expect a whole day without something going wrong, but who were they?” Wally asked, already back to eating popcorn.

Danny sighed, so deeply M’gann felt it in her bones even though she didn’t try to read him.

“I think this is the talk we should have in the Mountain”

[a-dope-fiend]

It irritates me alot when people say that making medic more compassionate is ''missing the point of his character'' when he is literally shown to be in the comics.... did you miss the part where he showed concern for both sniper and miss pauling's well being in comic 5 and 6.

His actions are a combination of genuine attachment + clinical interest and these things do not cancel out one another. He is always pushing boundaries and going against the grain and i think this is what led to him losing his license in the first place. He felt stifled by the rules imposed on him.

He is shown to be extremely passionate so it makes sense that he would use his endless fascination with medicine as a way to show his affection. He loves his friends so he will find a way to make them borderline indestructible. Malpractice is his love language.

[mangostarjam]

declarations — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, reader wears a dress and heels, 2.6k words

here's part one and part two though this piece was inspired by this

"Why do I need to wear a dress?"

Hoshina Soshiro glances up from where he's lounging on your bed. You've already pulled on the dress, of course, and he watches with probably way too much interest as you tug and adjust the way it drapes along your body. It's pretty. It fits perfectly, though you have no idea when Soshiro learned your measurements enough to show up at your door with such a gorgeous dress hanging from his fingers. Maybe he got them from Okonogi-chan?

"You'll be walking 'round with me and the Captain, egg tart, so you've gotta look the part," he says idly, though you can feel the burn of his stare along the newly exposed skin of your back. "And don't forget the heels!"

You glance at the cute, strappy heels he left by your mirror and frown. "If I wear those, I'll be taller than you, Soshiro-kun."

"Aw, that doesn't matter," Soshiro says. He sits up and you look away from the flex of his incredibly defined abdominal muscles beneath his compression shirt, which he apparently wears all the time, even under his formal dress uniform with all its tassels and buttons.

God. Embarrassing. You really need to get your staring issue under control.

"I can fight whoever looks at ya."

"Wha— ?" Heat sears across your face as you splutter and spin around to face him. The skirt of your dress twirls with the movement and you catch his gaze snapping down to your thighs. "Why would you need to fight anyone?"

"Hm?" You take a step back as he gets up and stalks over to you, holding your breath subconsciously as he kneels at your feet and takes one of the heels in hand. Your room suddenly feels warmer, the air hushed, as if the two of you are the only ones who exist in the entire universe. Soshiro chuckles quietly and shoots you a grin that makes your knees feel wobbly.

"Soshiro-kun?"

"Well, 'course I'm gonna fight for ya, apricot," Soshiro says. You flinch as he reaches out to grip your calf, the rough callouses on his fingers scraping lightly as he lifts your leg and slides your foot into the shoe. "You're my best friend, yeah?"

And I'm just a simple man in love goes unspoken as he carefully ties the silk around your ankle to keep the shoe in place. You wobble a bit at the balance and he glances up from beneath his violet bangs. "Hold onto my shoulders," he says quietly, reaching for your other leg. "Don't worry, I've got you."

"S-Soshiro-kun, I can put these on myself," you mumble, heat flaring up your spine at the careful pressure of his fingers on your ankle. He lifts your leg and you grab abruptly at his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick muscle there as you regain your footing with his support.

Soshiro lets out a breath. "I know," he says simply. "But I wanna do it."

Is this what men do when they're in love? You wouldn't know — the only man in your life you've ever cared about is right in front of you, and he's refused to elaborate on his strange statement no matter how many times you've asked. You have a feeling he means it, though.

Like, really means it. You love Soshiro — of course you do. You've always loved him. But lately it's felt… different.

Still comfortable. He's still your biggest supporter and vice versa, and he still knows exactly how to cheer you up and make you laugh. You know all his ticks and tells, and you take great pride in taking care of him while he's looking out for everyone else.

But at the same time… it's uncomfortable.

These little touches — they're new. The way his gaze lingers on your body is also new. Or… maybe you've just never noticed before. It's not a bad thing. But it makes you feel strange and fluttery inside and you catch yourself daydreaming about what it'd be like to actually get a hickey from Soshiro. Your best friend.

You stare down at the top of his head and try to repress a shiver as he skims up your legs to where your skirt rests against your thighs. His touch leaves behind a trail of warmth that burrows deep. "Um— ?"

"Ya look real pretty like this," he says. You're still holding onto his shoulders as he rises from his crouch, your entire body hot and hyperaware of how close he's standing once he straightens. "I could really just eat ya up." The smirk on his face makes your heart thump painfully in your chest, but he doesn't give you a chance to question it before he's grabbing your hands and spinning you around in a little twirl.

"S-Soshiro!"

Your best friend laughs as you wobble precariously before regaining your balance, your hands gripping his in a vice as you stumble to a stop. The familiar sound makes everything feel lighter, the heat simmering into something loose and… painful. Your chest aches. "Whoa, lollipop, watch your step!"

"You did that on purpose," you accuse, but you giggle anyway at his lopsided grin. It's bright and undeniably fond, a smile that features in all of your memories together. "You still haven't explained why you'd need to fight people, y'know."

"Let's just say I've got my work cut out for me with such a gorgeous partner," Soshiro says, looping your arm through his and angling for the door. Is he… trying to sweet talk you? Does he think that'll make you forget about his intention to brawl during the meal? "Ya ready for dinner, beansprout?"

"Hold on, don't forget your jacket," you say. He lets you step away to snatch up his formal dress jacket, though his hand hovers, stretching out towards you as you turn back to help him into it. You slip his buttons into place carefully, smoothing out the dense fabric and ignoring your warm face as he rests his hands on your hips to keep you steady. "There! Now we can go to dinner, Vice Captain, sir."

Soshiro's hands tighten at your waist. "Whoa, peanut, we ain't in public, yet."

You roll your eyes. He's been oddly insistent lately about when you use his rightful title. "C'mon, Soshiro-kun, before they start and we miss all the food!"

Your best friend loops your arm through his again and leads you out into the hallway, laughing when you try to pull your arm free only to fail as he tugs you more securely towards him. "Hey now, sugar cube, no runnin' away. We've gotta show up together or else people'll think they've got a chance."

You wrinkle your nose. "A chance at what?"

"They're already lucky bein' able to see you all dressed up," Soshiro continues as if he didn't hear you. "Maybe we should ditch the party."

"You're literally the Vice Captain of this base," you point out. "I think your absence would be noticed."

"What if we sneak out after dessert?"

"Why would we sneak out?"

Soshiro glances at you and pauses in front of the door leading into the ballroom. "Just 'cause I'm Vice Captain doesn't mean I'll forget to rescue you from all the socializin'."

"My hero," you joke, but several hours later finds you scanning the crowd uneasily for a head of violet hair.

The party is full of officers (easily distinguishable in their dress uniforms) and esteemed guests from various kaiju tech companies eager to promote their new products. You stuck to Soshiro's side for the most part, his hand firm and bracing at your lower back, but duty called and you ended up in a conversation with a tech mogul's son while Soshiro attended to his captain.

"Sorry, I know I'm not as good looking as the Vice Captain, but am I really boring you that badly?" the tech mogul — Takashi? Tadashi? — asks. You blink in surprise and return your attention to him, shifting on your heels.

"I apologize," you say, "it's just been a while…"

"It's been ten minutes," Takashi/Tadashi snorts. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have the two of you been together?"

Again? Why does everyone ask that? "We've known each other since childhood," you say. The man raises an eyebrow.

"Are you not… together, then?"

Something about his tone makes you bristle. "We've always been together," you say. You feel Soshiro before you see him, his hand resting warm on your lower back, just at the dip of your spine where it curves at your butt. This is a new spot for him to touch, a little lower than usual, but you lean into him anyway, seeking the comfort of your best friend. "Right, Vice Captain?"

"Who's askin'?" You startle a little at the subtle chill in his tone. Soshiro tucks you against his side with a hum as Tadashi introduces himself. "Nice to meet you, too," Soshiro grins. "Thanks for keepin' my cinnamon roll company."

Maybe it's your imagination, but did you hear a slight emphasis on "my"? And what's with dropping a nickname in public? Usually he's careful about referring to you by your surname when around strangers. The Third Division knows the two of you are close, but the ballroom is packed with people who have no idea about your relationship with the Vice Captain.

Tadashi doesn't seem concerned, but he does take a small step back. "Why of course, Vice Captain Hoshina," he says, "It was my privilege to be in the presence of such beauty."

You can feel Soshiro's arm tense as he slides it around your waist, but his tone is light. "Whoops, sorry, Takashi-san, duty calls. We'll be taking our leave now."

The crowd of pleasantly chattering officers and bigwigs parts easily as Soshiro guides you through towards the large banquet table full of small bites and snacks. You raise an eyebrow. "Wasn't his name Tadashi?"

"My bad," Soshiro says. You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. "It's fine, my lil' blueberry. His father's the one in charge of their company and Captain Ashiro already made a good impression on him."

It doesn't surprise you that he already knows all of this — for all his joking, Soshiro's always been good at his job. What is surprising is that he was a little mean to the guy for no reason.

"Well, thanks for rescuing me," you say. "I was trying really hard not to yawn in his face."

Soshiro laughs and flicks your forehead fondly. "You ready to sneak outta this party, cupcake?"

"You won't get in trouble?" you ask, looking around doubtfully at the crowd. A few officers meet your eye and turn away quickly, which is weird. You reach up to rub at your forehead. "What about Captain Ashiro?"

"If we stay any longer, I'm gonna end up fightin' those guys from the Second Division," Soshiro says lightly, tilting his head towards the officers who just turned away from you. "They've been starin' at ya all night."

"No fighting," you say immediately. Soshiro snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. Your eyes skip over the way his shoulders bunch at the movement and you meet the eye of a female officer standing at the other end of the banquet table. Her face lights up and she moves towards the two of you, snagging two flutes of champagne along the way.

"Vice Captain Hoshina!" she says brightly, offering him the delicate glass. "I've been looking for you all night! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You shift away, feeling suddenly like you're intruding on something private. Thankfully, the banquet table is a good distraction, and you move closer to it, wondering if you can find the dessert section while Soshiro catches up with this lady who's apparently an old friend. She must be from the Second Division. Maybe Soshiro met her when he visited their base to demonstrate and instruct on sword techniques?

You glance at her again. She's pretty, wearing the formal dress uniform of a female officer, though it looks like her long stockings aren't quite long enough, because the visible skin between her stockings and the bottom of her skirt is definitely against uniform regulations. She looks comfortable standing next to Soshiro, though, and the sight makes your insides twist strangely.

He's never mentioned her to you before. You remember greeting him after his visit to their base, accepting the snacks he brought back and tossing him your finished book filled with scribbled notes so he could take his turn reading it. Is he close with her? He must be, for her to look for him all night… right? It's not like you expect to know everything about Soshiro — of course he has his secrets and his own life.

And what if… what if he… and she�� what if they were… together? You've never broached the topic of your love lives with each other, though it's never seemed to matter. You had your fair share of meaningless crushes during your time as an officer, but it was hard to care about pursuing anything romantic when you always had Soshiro.

Oh. Oh.

You are… an idiot. You feel so, so stupid. But Soshiro said he's a simple man in love — with you.

You're staring blindly at a platter of tiny cheesecakes when you feel someone approach, interrupting your train of thought. You glance up with a polite smile as one of the officers from the Second Division steps closer. "Those look delicious, don't they?"

"They do," you say. The officer looks nice enough — boyishly charming, in a way — but you find yourself glancing past him to scan the crowd for a head of violet hair.

Are you in love with Soshiro? Yes — of course you are — and maybe the semantics and nitty gritty details don't actually matter when you just feel right with him.

"Heya, pudding cup." Soshiro's touch burns along your lower back. "Time to head out?"

You twist towards him with a smile that makes his eyes widen. "I missed you."

Pink creeps up his neck as he grins back at you. "Yeah? Excuse me, officer, but I'll be takin' it from here."

The Second Division officer nods and mumbles some formalities as you leave with Soshiro, who doesn't take his hand off your back. The steady pressure of his fingers makes something curl in your gut. "What about the other Second Division officer? The one who brought you champagne?"

"Hm? Who?"

"Soshiro-kun…"

"She's just a friend," Soshiro says, snickering when you scrunch your nose at him. "Don't worry, bonbon, I've only got eyes for you."

The chatter and shuffling of the crowd fades as the two of you exit the ballroom and slip down a side hallway in the direction of your rooms. Soshiro drops his hand from your back, but you grab it before he can get too far, lacing your fingers together and peeking at the redness of his ears with a small smile. You turn together down another hallway, this one illuminated by squares of moonlight that do nothing to hide the clench of his jaw as he glances at you and squeezes your hand.

"Aren'tcha proud of me? No fighting."

You snort. "Thanks for not starting a brawl during a Defense Force party," you tease. "You're the best Vice Captain we could ever ask for."

"I'm not messin' around," he says. "I can't help it if I just wanna keep ya to myself."

"You don't have to worry about that," you say. You wonder if he can feel your pulse pounding in your wrist. "I'm all yours."

[murdrdocs]

religious themes; allusions to sex; def incorrect religious interpertations MDNI 18+ inspo from @swiftiekisses's post w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

the pastors voice booms throughout the small church even without the microphone as assistance. his words, preachings about the dangers of premarital sex, run down luke's spine. they stick themselves there, forced to remain relevant and exist permanently within his body even if his mind dared to forget it.

because he knows his feeble, easily persuaded mind will forget it. when he's inevitably balls deep in you later this afternoon, when your parents have retired to the kitchen for his moms cooking, he would have already forgotten the elated cheers of agreement from the churchgoers. he knows that when you're running your hands through his hair, your pristinely manicured nails scratching his scalp, he would have forgotten what this mornings sermon was even about.

but you, you won't forget. you sit beside him now, staring straight ahead, supposedly unaffected by the way luke's knee touches yours. he can delude himself into believing you were pretending to not care about luke's presence next to his, but your attitude might be soaked in truth. you're in charge here, and luke knows it.

you're human personification of temptation, the rotten apple disguised as fresh and ripe and ready for the picking. you've dragged him under, deep into a pit of bittersweet arousal and warm insides that he never ever wants to leave.

the sweetness of your perfume wafts towards luke's nose as you clap to what the pastor has said. his words must have been important, they must have been grandiose, because his mother is standing next to him and shouting "amen!". but luke can only focus on the way you turn your head and smile at him, a sweet grin that is the image of innocence to outsiders.

but luke knows your smile to be anything but. you knows you to be anything but. and he can tell himself lies all he wants to, but at the end of the day, when judgement comes, he knows that his actions have damned him. the ones he chose to participate in. he has chosen to continuously sheathe himself into your pretty pussy. he has chosen to lay before the altar of your thighs and give offerings. he has chosen to take what his false god has given him, lessons and signs that cloud his mind instead of clear it.

the worst part is, he wouldn't have it any other way.

[fantasykiri5]

This one’s name is Coral (not to be confused with Queen Coral, but she was named after her) She’s Bay’s younger sister and an animus. (Her and Bay are friends with Hourglass because they go to a small school of animuses and hybrids. Bay just came with his sister. They have three more dragons in their friend group but who knows when I’ll draw them.)

[rendevok]

your narumitsu art made me weep with joy and I heard you want more requests 👀

idk if this is the right place to put them but I think phoenix coming with miles to try on his glasses for the first time would be sweet :,) miles asking how they look and phoenix being just smitten. the good stuff

Dear anon… you sure know how to pick em! Things got very out of hand very quickly while drawing, and well. You inspired me to draft a comic! I didn’t want to make you wait long, so here are the sketches for the pages relevant to your request <3

Thanks so much, and hope you enjoy~! 💜

[calamitoustide]

okay so Harry is Lily’s kid and James is his uncle and one day Lily’s in a bind and needs him to pick Harry up from daycare so of course he does it and he goes in and finds this… really hot dad. And his daughter is talking to Harry so James takes the chance to go talk to him. He learns his name is Regulus and is so obsessed with it as James always is and Reg points at Harry and asks if he’s his son. James being the idiot that he is says yes (he’s struggling). Also they look pretty much identical cause he was the sperm donor so it makes sense that Reg asks. James has been asked it before... but Reg is hot and he short circuited. They leave and agree that they should rearrange a play date… you know for the kids.

James has to keep asking Lily to borrow Harry to take him to these places and it’s this huge mess.

And Reg has to keep coming up with reasons to Pandora and Xeno why he always wants to take their daughter out places.

chaos ensues.

[divine0rdainment]

Operation Replace Lilith AU

Adam dies at the end of season one and ends up back in the begining, as in back to when he was in the garden after being freshly created. Lilith is also there with him. And in a panic, he runs off in to the deeper parts of Eden to clear his head. When he's come to realize what's happened, he thinks about life and all his regrets, one of those regrets being that he suffered a lot and got very little reward. Honestly, Lilith kinda got the better end of the deal, she got a husband, a kid, a long life, and in the end, she even got to go to heaven after making a deal! So even tho she did all this bad she STILL got rewarded.

While Adam basicly ate an apple because his wife asked him to, got sent to earth, starved alot, got hurt alot, lost two sons in horrible ways, grew old and died, went to heaven, got bored of heaven real quick, got condescended to by the angels (Cough cough SERA), became an exterminator, was constantly ordered around by Sera, and then DIED AGAIN FOR DOING AS HE WAS TOLD, AFTER GETTING THE SHIT BEAT OUT OF HIM BY LUCIFER AND THEN STABBED BY A BUG!!!

NO, he would not be doing that again. So he makes a plan, he is going to take Liliths place! He's gonna seduce Lucifer, be the one to go to hell with Lucifer, become a king beside Lucifer, and then later be welcomed in to hell like Lilith was after popping out one kid. (He'd figure out how that would work later. Probebly magic.) And then live happily ever after after by abandoning his husband and child like Lilith did, and live the good afterlife!

Plan made, he goes out and waits for when Lucifer shows up. Still ignoring Lilith of course, much to the woman's anger. She doesn't know what she did wrong, but it's making her mad that he won't even TALK to her. Also Adam is inventing things, like clothing out of Sheep wool, and strings and ropes and baskets and even figuring out how to make spices already. So the angels are a bit confused. They thought it would take humans longer to learn this stuff. But here Adam was, building a house out of mud, trees, and rocks, making an Axe out of a sharpened rock ans a long stick and rope.

Lucifer is so fascinated he actually comes down to visit Adam to ask how he figured out to make all this, and Adams plan starts. Too bad the only flirting Adam knows is very sexual flirting that an angel wouldn't get. And the fact that Adam keeps using slang from the 90s-2000s, and Lucifer doesn't understand half the shit he says! But he's trying! The real problem is, Lucifer seems to be the one doing the seducing by complementing Adam all the time for the smallest thing, and always touching Adams arms and shoulder and hair, and holding his hand without reason, and looking him in the eye like Adam holds the stars up himself. Fuck. Adam! Head in the game! You will NOT fall for Lucifer! This is your second chance!!! Your last chance to have the good life! You can't risk it by accidently liking him!!! Hell, your not even gay!!!

[blindmagdalena]

The Athenaeum Portrait

18+ 4.7k homelander x f!reader. established relationship, first time having sex, reader has a complicated relationship with sex, abuse of superpowers for cunnilingus, overstimulation, penetrative sex, lite sublander, praise kink, slight coercion, unhealthy dynamics, implied codependency, implied verbal abuse.

Your relationship with Homelander is a delicious, precarious thing. Like a perfectly ripe peach, its closeness to something bruised and rotten makes it all the sweeter.

AO3 link. inspired by this anonymous prompt. thank you! 🖤

Homelander did not enter your life so much as he bull-rushed into it, a living whirlwind that uprooted you and hurled you into a familiar yet strange new world as unceremoniously as the tornado that took Dorothy to Oz. 

Vought Tower sparkles just as vibrant as the Emerald City, and provides no less surreal of a backdrop to your new life. Homelander's penthouse is a bizarre caricature of personhood, loaded with hundreds of years of American history. It would ring false, just another aspect of his brand, if not for the fact he can—and often does—regale you with a laundry list of historical facts on any piece in the collection.

This is how you find out that Gilbert Stuart is one of his favorite painters. When you ask Homelander why that is, he shrugs. "He painted over a thousand portraits, and he's most famous for the one he didn't finish. Ironic, huh?"

The Athenaeum Portrait, it's called. An unfinished portrait of George Washington that was replicated and sold by Stuart over a hundred times before his death.

The original was never completed.

The more time you spend in proximity to him, the more you start to understand why the piece resonates with him. You see replicas of him sold throughout the world on a daily basis, his face synonymous with Vought’s branding. There is a completeness to the commercial image of Homelander, America’s wholesome hero, but behind closed doors, you see his frayed and unfinished edges.

You feel his desperation for someone who will complete him in the way he touches you. He takes hold of your hands and brings them to the places where he is sketched at best, a ready and yielding canvas for your fingers. He likes when you stroke his hair, and sometimes touching his face turns his eyes glassy. There is a woundedness to the way he seeks your love, like he’s never entirely sure whether to expect the carrot or the stick.

You’ve never raised the stick to him, but it’s clear that those who came before you certainly did. It’s difficult to imagine that a man as powerful as him has been hurt like this, but he is a painfully obvious man at times, wearing his emotions like the scars his impervious body will never show.

When you lie down to read on the couch, he’s drawn to you like a magnet. He has no problem making space for himself within your bubble, sprawling on top of you, snaking his arms around your middle, his head settled on your sternum. You smile to yourself and rest your book on the top of his head as you read.

He gives a small grunt of complaint, but you’re fairly certain he’s smiling, too.

For every night of domestic bliss, so too are there sudden perils. Unexplained nights of absence, wild mood swings, fits of paranoia. He fights as many battles in his own mind as he does on the city streets and on foreign soil, a living weapon used to the fullest extent by Vought and the American government.

It feels like you lose him temporarily, like he becomes someone else. He paces around you like a caged tiger with his teeth bared, daring you to give him a reason to bite. You never do, and he never does, but sometimes you worry just how close of a call it was.

Occasionally he comes to you spattered in muck and bloody viscera. On these nights, he can’t seem to comprehend your presence, your gentleness, your love. It’s as if these concepts ring false in the wake of everything he has been made to endure. It’s suspicious to him that you would love something so repulsive, so opposite of everything Vought has polished his image into being.

He screams at you for this, takes you by the shoulders and demands you explain what he cannot understand, but you can’t. You can’t explain something that you don’t always understand.

Your relationship with Homelander is a delicious, precarious thing. Like a perfectly ripe peach, its closeness to something bruised and rotten makes it all the sweeter.

When things are good, they’re very good. He’s sweet, a romantic who learned everything he knows about romance from jewelry ads and Valentine’s Day specials. He brings you roses on random days of the week and adores showering you in gifts, especially the kind you wear. He tends to gravitate towards soft, velvety fabrics for your clothes because he likes the feel of them. He buys you perfumes that smell like vanilla and pink pepper. He likes fresh, warm scents. Nothing too floral or artificial.

Most importantly, he likes you. There’s rarely a day that the two of you don’t make each other laugh. His sense of humor is strange, but in the same way that yours is. Sometimes it feels like you’re two aliens creating a brand new language that only the two of you will ever know. The more time you spend together, the less the people outside of your relationship seem to understand you.

Not that it matters much. You spend the majority of your time with him these days, consumed by the excitement of this thrilling new thing the two of you share. Homelander is profoundly tactile, always needing to feel or touch you in some way. He loves to kiss you, content to make out languidly with you until your lips start to chap.

You’ve learned to keep lip balm on hand at all times.

Inevitably though, his hunger for intimacy outgrows quaint touches and kisses. You’re cuddled up together on his couch, only half paying attention to the movie playing. Homelander is nuzzling at your neck, pressing warm, wet kisses to it while his gloved hand slips beneath your shirt, fondling your breast through your bra. There’s something endearingly innocent about it, like a fumbling teenager piloting the body of a man in his forties.

Sex is nice enough. You have nothing against the act, but you’ve never felt as though you get as much out of it as the partners you’ve had in the past. Homelander’s touch feels good to you because it’s his, and because you know he wants to make you feel good in his enjoyment of you. You reciprocate by pushing your fingers into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp, eliciting a sweet, rumbling moan from him against your neck.

“Want you,” he mumbles fervently against your skin, his need so palpable it gives you goosebumps. “Can I have you?”

You knew this was coming. It’s not that you don’t want to fuck him, it’s that he’s not the only one whose portrait feels incomplete. You’re a fully grown adult, and never in your life have you managed to pleasure yourself to completion. In your youth, you’d just faked it for partners once you’d had your fill. With Homelander, you’re not even sure that would work. You’re not sure you would want it to.

He’s got a thing about lies, even little white ones.

You swallow and softly say, “Yes.” Ultimately, you do want him to have you. You just hope that what he gets doesn’t disappoint him.

He smiles into the crook of your neck, withdrawing his hand from beneath your shirt. He kisses you as he gathers you effortlessly up into his arms, carrying you to his bedroom. His strength is another aspect of why sex has made you nervous: the internet is full of horror stories of accidental sexual mutilation occurring between humans and supes. 

However, Homelander seems hyper aware of your fragility versus his power. He’s never harmed you. It seems to come naturally to him after years and years of navigating a world not made to withstand him. In the same way you’re capable of handling an egg without shattering it, he has learned how to hold you.

He lays you down on the bed, and then begins the ritual of shedding his signature suit, starting with his belt. You recline, content to watch him, but your gaze seems to make him uncharacteristically self conscious. You’ve never seen him without his suit before, another little quirk that you’ve largely just accepted to this point.

“Aren’t you gonna…” He gestures vaguely to you, expecting you to undress as well.

“Just enjoying the show,” you say coyly, attempting to lighten up a bit of the tension in his expression.

It doesn’t work. The furrow of his brows deepens slightly. “Ah, well. Y’know, the suit, they uh, pad it up some, so don’t–it’s different,” he says, fumbling over his words.

Your expression softens. “I know. It’s okay. I’m excited to see you,” you say, sitting up. In solidarity, you pull your shirt off first, and then wiggle out of your pants, kicking them off the bed. Homelander smiles at this, and works his pants off the rest of the way, kicking off his boots as well, leaving behind just a pair of dark red briefs. You sit up on your knees to help him with the fastenings of his suit top, which he seems to be the most apprehensive about.

To distract him from it, you kiss him. He melts eagerly into the press of your lips, slipping his tongue between yours with that same hunger to taste, to feel, to have. He’s bolder now that you’re no longer playing the part of spectator, shrugging his top from his shoulders and letting it fall with a surprisingly heavy thud to the floor. His ungloved hands skim up your sides, warm and positively thrumming with excitement.

You explore him as well, mapping out the slopes of his body that have previously been hidden from you. He’s leaner, more manageable than the ridiculous bulk of the suit. Part of you had always assumed there was a level of exaggeration in the chiseled, over the top musculature of the suit, but his build is still more slender than you expected. Regardless, it does nothing to detract from his raw strength as he catches you by the backs of your thighs and flips you onto your back, startling out a giddy bark of laughter from you.

He grins down at you, descending to catch you in another slow, consuming kiss, making space for himself between your legs. His lips trail from yours to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck. He turns his head to messily suck two fingers into his mouth, and then slips his hand down the front of your underwear. He finds your clit with surprising precision–someone definitely taught him that–and begins to rub slow figure-eights over it, as gentle as he is deft. It does feel good, so you close your eyes and try to simply enjoy it for what it is, for the touch and warmth and intimacy of it all.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t come. This is still nice. You can feel his desire for you in the heat of his body, in the hot huffs of his breath wafting across your skin between kisses. He eventually slips a single finger inside you, patiently working you open. You drag your nails up his back and into his hair, breathing deeply, willing your mind to pause and let you experience this pleasantry in the same way you would a hot bath or a nice massage.

However, no matter how you try, the looming matter of expectation weighs heavily on your mind. You’ve never been comfortable with the attention being solely on your pleasure: it feels like dangling a treat in front of someone on a treadmill. They’re running for something they’ll never reach.

“Hey,” Homelander calls quietly, yanking you from your mental downward spiral. You see him above you, no longer tucked against you, working your skin with his lips and teeth. His brows are slightly furrowed. “You’re quiet. Am I doing something wrong?”

“No,” you exhale, the question immediately putting a wash of guilt through you. “No, not at all, feels good. I’m just really in my head right now,” you admit, cupping either side of his face. “You’re doing great, I’m ready. I want you inside me,” you tell him in a breathless flurry, pulling him down into a kiss. 

He does relax at that, sinking in against you for a moment before lifting himself back up. He shucks his underwear down and then pulls yours off as well, lifting both of your legs over his shoulder as he slips the panties completely off of you. While he does that, you unclasp and toss your bra aside. He turns his head to kiss the side of your leg before he lowers them both back down around his waist, lowering himself back down atop you.

The thick head of his cock presses wetly to your cunt, sliding up and down, spreading his slick and yours. You can already feel his excitement in the tension of his body, his shoulders drawn tight beneath your hands. You knead them, rolling your palms against steel-woven muscle. “That’s it,” you encourage, working to relax the both of you. “Nice and slow, mmm… Fuck, you’re big,” you say, biting your lip as he spreads you around the girth of his cock.

“You’re tight,” he moans in response, already sounding frayed. He moves his hips in slow, slightly jerky motions–clearly holding back for your comfort–until he finally bottoms out, keening so sweetly in your ear you can’t help but stroke his hair, hushing him.

“Good, good, feel so good in me,” you coo, the words a familiar script. He shudders for the praise, kissing down your chest, mouthing hungrily at your breast, the same he’d been fondling earlier. His mouth is hot and wet, perfectly pleasant as he sucks at your nipple, moaning into your skin. You cradle his head in both hands, adjusting to the onslaught of sensation. 

It’s been awhile since anyone fucked you. The feel of it is just as alien as you remember, but you’re distracted by the persistent swirl of his tongue alternating with the pull of his lips as he lavishes attention on one breast, and then the other. With his bare skin against yours, you’re more aware than ever of the superhuman frequency of his body, how he seems to literally vibrate with restraint and eagerness in equal measure. It’s like there is a line of semi trucks driving by you, the bed itself buzzing with it.

“You’re amazing,” you marvel quietly, tightening your legs on either side of him to feel that preternatural hum against even more of your skin, tingling your inner thighs. “You feel amazing.”

He grunts out a needy, strained noise at that, followed by a jagged thrust deep into you. To your surprise, you realize then that he’s coming apart, dull nails biting crescent marks into your skin, clutching you as tightly as he dare allow himself. You thought that maybe his powers would give him superhuman stamina as well, that he might fuck you raw before he came, but if the shaky cadence of his thrusts are any indication, he’s already holding himself back.

“I can feel how bad you wanna come,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his hair. “Mm? You can, you can come in me,” you say, feeling his whole body shiver from your words. You clench, tightening up around his cock so suddenly that it makes him gasp.

“Fffuck, fuck, oh god, y’can’t–fucking Christ, you–mmm, fuck!” He rasps, choking on his own breath as he comes, burying his face between your breasts at the same time he slams in deep, fading into tight, erotic little whimpers as he loses himself to the rhythmic clench of your cunt. You do it purposefully, milking him of his orgasm, enamored with how thoroughly you’ve reduced a demigod to these simpering noises. The flood of come is hot inside you, already dripping out where your bodies are connected.

All that, and he still never lost control. You doubt his fingerprints will even bruise, though you find a part of yourself wishing they would. 

Homelander comes down gradually from his high, limp against you, breathing shallowly against your skin. He looks dazed, eyes only half open. It’s cute, which isn’t a word you necessarily would have ever thought to associate with The Homelander before you started dating him. When he looks up at you, you smile, already more satisfied than you’ve been with sex in your life.

“That was playing dirty,” he tells you, voice a touch fried.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you respond simply, watching as he nuzzles into your hand.

He rumbles out a low hum, kissing your palm. “Which means it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he says, moving to slide out of your hands. You stop him, taking hold of his arm.

“You don’t need to,” you assure him, tugging gently to lure him back up. “Really. That felt incredible.”

He frowns, looking every bit like a confused puppy. “But you didn’t come.”

“I know,” you say, that ball of tightness coiling back up in your gut. “It’s okay.”

He exhales an incredulous little scoff. “What kind of boyfriend d’you take me for? I’m gonna make you come,” he says, shrugging off your hand as he moves down your body, sliding out of you.

“Homelander,” you implore, reaching out for him. “Really, it’s okay, you don’t need to–”

“What, you don’t think I can?” He asks. You can see the challenge in his eyes, but you also recognize the potential of a stinging wound to his ego in those words.

You sigh, folding your arm over your eyes as you lay your head back. “It’s not that I don’t think you specifically can, I’m… Eugh.” You take a deep breath. “It’s not something that I do. I can’t. I’ve never been able to,” you say to the darkness of your arm, fingers rolling apprehensively. “And I don’t want you to take this as some kind of challenge, and then be upset when it doesn’t happen,” you say, speaking from very specific experience.

The space between you is silent for long enough that your curiosity beats out your apprehension, and you lower your arm. Homelander stares at you from between your legs, expression pinched, eyes flickering slightly, as if he’s solving the world’s most complicated puzzle in his brain. His eyes narrow softly, his bewilderment showing.

“Like… You haven’t come… Ever?”

“Ever,” you confirm. “It’s not that I haven’t tried, there’s just something broken.”

He processes that a moment longer. “But all of this still felt good, at least… Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course it did, I liked it. You really do feel amazing,” you assure him, lest he think you were lying with what you said earlier. “It just never finishes for me. That’s all.”

“Alright,” he says, the gears in his brain clearly turning. “So. Sure, no crossing the finish line, but I can still, y’know. Take you for a cruise? A little joyride?” He asks, making you laugh softly.

He really is cute. Sweeter than one might expect, too.

“A joyride?” You echo with a quirk of your brow, smiling.

He smiles, too. “Yeah. No destination, just a little drive.”

“I can do a little drive,” you say, feeling that knot of tension in your gut begin to untangle itself.

“Good,” he purrs, shouldering down between your legs. “Gimme that pillow,” he says, which you promptly do. He slides it under your ass, adjusting your hips until the angle is just right. He smooths his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs, glancing up at you. “Now, you just sit back and relax. Close your eyes, and imagine some smooth jazz.”

“I hate jazz,” you laugh.

He laughs as well, breath rolling over your wet pussy in hot waves. “Well, fuck, imagine something you do like.”

Relaxing back against the bed, you exhale a deep breath, closing your eyes. The first wet, hot slide of his tongue makes you jump a little. He responds by gripping your thighs and pinning you still, which does admittedly run a little thrill up your spine. You test his grip by pushing against it, and when that fails, pulling away, but neither grant you any leeway.

“Squirming already?” He asks between drags of his tongue.

“I like feeling your strength,” you say through a pleased little smile.

He gives an intrigued hum at that and spreads your legs wider, forcing them down against the bed. To even your surprise, that pushes a small, thin noise out of you. Encouraged, he presses his tongue inside, lapping up the mess he made inside you. It feels fine enough, but after a bit of his tongue pushing in and out of you, you give his hair a little tug. “Clit,” you say simply, a command he happily obliges, drawing back up to suck your clit between his lips.

Without the looming pressure to achieve some kind of euphoric release at the end, you find yourself more capable of simply enjoying this for what it is. Homelander is good at this, but it’s really his persistence that elevates the experience. At no point do you feel him begin to waver or slow, or shift and breathe in impatience. He’s relentlessly consistent, swirling his tongue and lapping at you like he’s starved for the taste.

You sigh, idly scratching his scalp as you toy with his hair. “Mmm, that feels good,” you say, more aware of the effect your praises have on him. He makes an appreciative noise, nuzzling into your cunt. One odd thing is that your clit is starting to ache in a way you’re unfamiliar with. You shift back a touch, but Homelander pulls you right back in.

“Greedy,” you accuse, which draws a low laugh from him, the rumble of it making you shiver a little. You must be growing oversensitized. You’ve lost track of how long he’s been at this.

He pulls back, and the cool air almost stings for the loss of his hot mouth, but that ache was beginning to grow uncomfortable anyways. You’re just about to thank him for his service when a whole new sensation steals the words right off your tongue. You don’t even know how to describe it: hot, pressure, but weightless. Your whole body jerks, but Homelander keeps you still, forces you to endure whatever the fuck it is he’s doing now.

“Wh-what the fuck is that?” Watching him, comprehension dawns; he’s blowing on your clit, lips pursed, forcing out a concentrated stream of warm, almost hot air that has your thighs quivering in his grasp. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, equal parts bewildered and overwhelmed. You try to close your knees, but once again, his hold is completely unrelenting, keeping them spread wide. Immediately that same ache is skyrocketing back up, spreading tightness low in your belly.

“Hold on,” you groan, gripping his hair tighter. You expect it to end before too long, for him to at least need to inhale, but beyond all logic and reason, he just keeps going. The heat of it is surreal, the weightless pressure of it constant. Your toes curl, heels digging into the bed while every muscle in your body starts to lock up.

Homelander’s gaze flickers up to meet yours, nothing pure wicked delight in his eyes. Just as suddenly, he descends upon you, tongue feeling hotter and wetter than ever as he dotes on your clit with it, focusing it with alarming precision. The abrupt change in sensation makes you thrash, stumbling over a stream of nonsense as you pull at his hair, that aching tightness now so prominent that you can hardly take in a breath.

“That’s enough, that’s–fuck, Homelander, it’s too much, it’s too much, s-stop, s–” your pleas erupt into a gasp because he’s focusing that stream of air right back on you again, the feel of it so surreal, so indescribable that your brain can hardly function around it. Your eyes roll back, you writhe, but he’s so much stronger than you’d ever really wrapped your mind around. He’s entirely unyielding in a way he’s never felt in your arms, against your body on the couch. He’s more inhuman than he’s ever been, and it’s driving you wild. 

Tears gather in your eyes. This  assault of sensation walks the knife’s edge of pain, but never quite falls over it. Your whole body is throbbing, and you feel like you’re going to fucking explode. He twists that knife by taking you again with his tongue, swirling and slick in contrast to the dry pressure of his breath.

“H-Homelander, Homelander, please, I’m–I’m–fuck!”

The world turns white, and suddenly you can’t breathe. You hear yourself make a strained noise you’ve never heard before, but it might as well not even be you. You’re somewhere outside of your own body, floating in a torrent of indescribable sensory input that is so alien to you, you don’t even feel real anymore. Homelander isn’t holding you still anymore, but you can still feel him slowly lapping at your throbbing clit, watching you through foggy eyes as he licks you through your first orgasm, no doubt tasting and smelling the endorphins that flood your body.

Every single taut muscle in your body snaps like the strings of a marionette, leaving you to collapse limply on the bed, panting through it as your soul gradually descends back down into your body. Blissfully, Homelander ceases his torment and joins you, laying sideways with his head propped up in his palm while his other hand rests on your hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper eventually.

“Please, you can still call me Homelander,” he says, sounding just as smug as one would expect him to be after such an accomplishment. If you had any power whatsoever left in your lifeless arm, you’d smack him. However, he quickly makes up for it by drawing you gently into his arms, kissing your forehead. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” you say, more malleable than ever as he adjusts you both beneath the blankets. “I thought I was going to die.” It’s only a slight hyperbole.

Homelander laughs softly, beaming at you with pink cheeks and a sly, delighted little smile. “See? Nothing’s broken,” he murmurs at your ear, catching you off guard. That had been such an offhand remark, you didn’t expect to hear it come back around.

“What if I hadn’t? What if all that, and nothing happened?” You ask, adjusting slightly while he entangles his limbs with yours, bodies slotting together like jigsaw pieces. You’re both jagged in all the right ways, fitting nicely together.

He gives a small shrug, stroking his knuckles up and down your spine. “Still would’a been a hell of a ride. Not everything has to be finished to be good.”

Slowly, you smile. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Loving Homelander isn’t always easy or good. There are times when he makes it hard, and there are times when you make it hard, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in this lifetime, nothing worth doing is ever easy. Love may start as an incidental thing, a passion that ignites as readily as tinder, but the upkeep of it is more like pottery. It’s messy, and even once you get the shape of it right, you don’t always know how it will react to the heat necessary to give it solid form. It can be broken, it can be fixed, it can even be remade, but never is one the same as the last.

Still, even when it hurts, when it’s frustrating, when it doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, the euphoria of creating something so beautiful keeps you coming back to it. When the same love that burns you can also warm you against the cold, coat your throat like honey, and fill your night sky with stars to guide your way in darkness, it becomes impossible to let go of.

To love something is to heal it. Everything that is loved is beautiful, even things that are unsightly, unfinished, unappealing. Even things that are broken.

Finally, you think you understand why Stuart never finished his original painting.

He loved it precisely as it was.

[cursedzucchini]

Danny working as a batburger employee.

And now I know that ain't the most original thing on this website, but consider;

When Danny comes into contact with food, it gains sentience.

I mean imagine the jokerized fries coming alive trying to kill each other, bc there can be only one, before seeing the real joker and immediately forming a team to take that bitch down.

Or the poison ivy salad (I think) combining their powers together to try and kill whoever bought them.

Or the batburger hiding in the shadows.

Or like literally anything you can think of.

Just Danny, tired employee, trying to convince ppl to buy normal fries, bc if he gotta deal w the joker version one more fucking time he's burning this whole place down.

Or just trying to convince the food to stay on the plate. (And stabbing it to place if necessary)

So I'm not sure if anyone thought of this, but this is my vision ✋✨✨✨✨🤚

[sinnabee]

INGREDIENTS:

2 cups evil boredom

3 teaspoons (heaping) blorbo poison (powder, not liquid)

1 daycare theme (10 hour loop)

1/3 cup brainrot

*1/2 cup distilled back pain

**(un)diagnosed mental illness

*(any kind of pain works, back pain is usually what i have on hand)

**(if you aren’t a fan of the flavor a diagnosis leaves, undiagnosed will work in a pinch! Personally, I like to add a bit of both.)

INSTRUCTIONS:

First, turn on the daycare theme (10 hour loop) and pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees.

Sift together your evil boredom and blorbo poison in a medium sized bowl.

Add in your pain of choice and mix well.

Once thoroughly mixed, it should be looking a little thicker. Some granules from the evil boredom and blorbo poison are fine. (You can always mix further, if you’re worried about it affecting the texture.)

Add your brainrot and beat with a whisk until it’s looking lighter, a little fluffy. (If you aren’t in the mood for fluff, a dash of angst or hurt/comfort can help tone it down. An AU if you really wanna spice it up.)

Realize this is turning out a lot better than you thought it would. Dang. Well, you’re certainly committed now.

Go ahead and get out a glass baking pan. Coat the bottom with non-stick spray. (I tend to favor Y/N brand Nonbinary Spray myself)

Using a baking spatula (one of the rubbery bendy ones), carefully move your mixture from the bowl to the pan. It’s alright if you get some on the sides, the heat should help it settle once it’s in the oven. To get out any air bubbles, tap the pan (carefully!) a few times on the counter.

Place the pan in the oven and set a timer for 15-25 minutes, or take a peek every now and then and see if it’s the right shade of cheerful.

Congratulations!!! You’ve successfully survived evil boredom, despite the hurdles you faced, and made something! (Pretty tasty too, if I might add.) You are still mentally ill, though. But - hey - now you have a little treat! And hopefully, your day’s just a little bit brighter! Enjoy!

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

i'm crazier for you (4)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

No warnings just fluff, unless bad words and a little tussle is worthy of TW⚠️!

1. what you see, i see

2. where you go, i go

3. you know i adore

She knew she should've asked him before he left yesterday, if he wanted to go to the school festival with her today. Now, she was looking at an unsent text massage she typed in the morning.

_____._: if you're not busy do you want to come to the school festival with me? It's okay if you can't I know you're busy with training and missions and curses, so if you have time, i'd love it if you stop by.

She couldn't send it. Everytime she read it, it sounded more awkward. Worse, she sounded desperate and she was not desperate. No matter how pretty Gojo Satoru was. Instead, she texted Geto Suguru, surely his best friend knew if he was busy.

_____._: Hello! I just wanted to ask if you knew if Satoru's busy today? I wanted to invite him to the festival. If you're not busy too I'd be great if you'd come. Shoko too!

This turned out to be another unsent message. Texting his best friend somehow reeked of more desperation, not to mention, he would no doubt show Satoru the messages. The thought alone made her want to drown in embarrassment.

There'd be other festivals for her to invite him to. Festivals where she would ask him to go with her with ample time.

No, yes, no - she should just ask him. The worst thing he could say was no, right?

Just as she was going to press send, someone tapped her shoulder from behind.

Ito Haruki, student council treasurer.

She flipped her phone closed, "What's up?"

Haruki smiled nervously, "I wanted to know if you wanted to go to the festival with me. I mean you're not dating that guy, right?"

Her heart leapt to her throat. She wasn't dating Satoru. She and him were just friends - friends who cuddled and held hands and kissed each others cheeks and foreheads. Friends who had consistent midnight rendezvous of him teleporting into her room just to see her - it was easier than sneaking him.

She remembered when her mom almost caught her sneaking him into the bakery, she had to push him under a table. The grin that was plastered on his face that whole night as they snuck in pastries from downstairs into her room. Their hushed whispers as they ate until their sweet tooth was satisfied, which for her soulmate, was never ending. She had to stop him before he ate the entire store up and started bouncing off the walls. Satoru teleporting in her room was efficient as well as an efficient way to sneak out of her room without her mother noticing.

The coffee nights were the best. His was always far too sweet and looked more like milk with the amount of creamer he put on his coffee. Their midnight walks where he would give her his jacket because she got too cold. Those same walks, he would sneak his hands under her sweatshirt to keep warm, until finally, they would warp back into her room and fall asleep in each other's arms.

But they weren't dating - Oh, who was she kidding, they were practically dating.

"You mean Satoru?" Still, she shouldn't lie and it was her decision to go slow, "He's my friend," but she didn't want to see anyone else, so she quickly added, "but we are talking about being something more."

Haruki's smile dropped, "So it's like that."

Her phone buzzed in her hand:

1 TEXT MESSAGE from Gojo Satoru

Gojo.S: something more huh? ;)

How long has he been watching what she was doing? Had he seen that embarrassing text message? She hoped not. She quickly backspaced her old text message and typed:

____._: stalker :/

"Is that him?" Haruki said behind her.

She flipped her phone closed again, "Uh, yeah."

"You smile alot around him," he said, "why aren't you dating him already?"

Her phone buzzed again.

"Well," she said, "we're taking things slow, you know, starting as friends."

Another buzz.

Haruki's gaze was full of disappointment but he left her alone and moved on to another girl.

Buzz- She looked at her phone.

3 TEXT MESSAGES from Gojo Satoru

Gojo.S: :'(

Gojo.S: when are you gonna send me that text???

So he had seen it.

Gojo.S: tell that guy that I'm not afraid to fight >:(

She giggled and typed:

____._: stop stalking me :|

____._: soooooo are you free?

She waited in baited breath for his next text.

Gojo.S: free for what :)

He was the absolute worst.

____._: do you want to come to the festival with me?

Two seconds...

Gojo.S: idk i mean it is pretty last minute

She smirked.

____._: that's okay. i'm sure Geto, Nanami and Haibara are free :)

Gojo.S: >:O

Gojo.S: so that's how it is now

She didn't answer and she flipped her phone close. Now, she was hoping he was watching.

Buzz. Ignored.

Buzz. Ignored.

Buzz. Ignored.

Buzz. Ignored.

Satoru opened his eyes and stared at his phone in shock. He sent another text- nothing. He poked his best friend's cheek annoyingly.

Suguru poked his cheek back harshly, "What," poke, "do" poke, "you", poke, "want?"

Satoru shoved his phone in Suguru's face.

Suguru laughed. He actually laughed at him as buzz came from his phone. He slid it open:

____._: wanna come to my school's festival today? i already texted Shoko, she said yes. I don't have Nanami's # or Haibara's # can you invite them for me?

Suguru grinned, "Guess who just texted me?"

Satoru whirled his head to him and lunged for him, "Give it to me!"

Suguru narrowly evaded his tackle as he typed:

Geto.S: sure, we'll be there

It was only a matter of time before Satoru tackled him to the ground and ripped the phone off his hands. He tumbled to the ground as Satoru's infinity keeping him safe from Suguru's curses.

"I can't believe she actually asked you!" Satoru flipped his phone and started to press the buttons furiously.

Suguru chuckled underneath him, "You should've just said yes when she asked you." He got his hands free from Satoru's hold and landed a double hit on his torso making him double over in pain, "and that's what you get for letting your infinity down."

He picked up his phone from the ground.

1 TEXT MESSAGE from ____ ______

____._: see you later :D

Satoru grabbed him by his pant leg, "Tell her to invite me!"

Suguru smiled in the way that he always had - one that seemed soft and genuine, "No," and slid the door shut on Satoru's hand. The door stopped right before it crushed his hand- Satoru had just turned on his infinity at the knick of time.

Satoru reached for his phone on the floor and stared at the small screen willing his soulmate to text him back.

He closed his eyes and focused. It didn't take much for him to be able to see everything she saw or hear her surroundings. Seeing through her eyes doesn't stop his six eyes from working. It was suppressed to a point where he could and couldn't see curses like he was seeing through two different lenses. It was jarring at first, but he was used to it now.

She was taking notes from her textbook.

He frowned. Suguru was right he should've just said yes.

Satoru doubted Suguru would do anything but he wanted to spend time with her alone in front of her classmates like a real boyfriend. That's where they were headed he knew that but he'd very much like their relationship to be official. He supposed she was making him work for it. He had said some pretty awful things before they met knowing she was watching. Then he died-ish and while he was up in the clouds feeling like he could take on the world - she was alone and full of sorrow. Fear and pride were keeping her from taking the plunge. All he had to do was keep at it and not fuck up.

He flipped his phone closed. He fucked up. Not too badly, though. It was a minor fuck up, nothing, he couldn't fix.

He fixed his sunglasses to cover his eyes completely. Not being invited to events has never stopped him before and it won't stop him now. He had an hour to think of a game plan, but just in case, he called her.

Her phone rang as she walked to the library to ensure that it was locked before people started showing up. She hadn't meant to ignore it. She was going to answer it, truly. She was only teasing him before, but one of her underclassmen needed her help. How could she possibly refuse? And she had meant to call him back but with the last minute preparations and the teachers not wanting to oversee anything meant it was all on her. By the time, she got around to calling him people were already rolling in and she had to greet them.

All she could do was hope that Satoru would show up today, even if she didn't explicitly invite him.

She smiled and waved at classmates and other guests. She smiled brightly when she saw Shoko and Suguru arrive with Nanami and Haibara, only for her smile to slip a little when she didn't see a fluff of white hair towering over them.

Suguru lagged behind to talk to her, "You seem a little disappointed." A soft smile played on his lips, "Upset Satoru didn't show up?"

Pink dusted her cheeks, "No- I mean, yes." She sighed, "It's my fault. I had meant to call him right after, but all of this," she gestured to the school, "got in the way and I forgot."

More people shook her hand and waved.

"Do you have to do this the whole time?" Suguru asked.

She looked at her watch, "Just for twenty more minutes."

Another handshake from a stranger.

From the corner of her eyes she saw Suguru grab a male student from the scruff of his neck and took off his school blazer from him. The student looked at him and seemed like he was about to say something to him, but one daring look from Suguru and he had left without a word.

He quickly replaced his jujutsu tech jacket with the school uniform blazer, "Go, call him." Suguru whispered in her ear, "I've got it from here."

"Are you sure?" She said, "This is my responsibility and-"

"It's fine," he smiled, "I didn't steal this blazer for nothing."

Smiling, she hugged him. "Thank you, Geto. You're the best." She squeezed his arm gently before leaving to call Satoru.

With her phone pressed to ear she waited for him to answer. What if he didn't answer? What if he was angry with her? Seven rings later and the phone went to voicemail. Her heart sank a little but she called again.

No answer.

Satoru usually answered at the first call, even when he was on missions. He must be angry with her. Calling again would probably only annoy him further, or get him to be more upset with her. She thought about texting him but what would her message say: I'm sorry I invited all your friends and not you because of a teasing comment you made.

She went too far this time. She shouldn't have invited everyone and excluded him. She should start the text message with that, so she started typing.

A hearty laugh snapped her out of her message. Suguru's laugh.

She paled. Oh God, he was laughing at someone. She would get in trouble for sure. She quickly moved to apologize for his rudeness (despite what Geto Suguru claimed, him and Satoru were best friends for a reason), and saw a mountain of an oversized pokemon Eevee plushie locked in someone's both arms overcrowding the school entrance.

She pinched Suguru as she helped the poor person get inside the school, "I apologize for my friend's lack of manners." She smiled nervously, "He didn't mean to laugh." She shot him a pointed look, "Right, Geto?"

"Yes, I did." Suguru chuckled, "Satoru looks ridiculous."

Satoru poked his head on the side of the large Eevee and flashed her a wide grin. Extending the plushie in his arms and with a teasing tilt in his voice, he asked, "Aren't you glad I'm here?"

She took the pokemon plushie from him. She loved Eevee.

She leapt his arms, "I really am glad you're here," she grinned up at him, "and not just because of Eevee."

Satoru's grin widened, "I know, I know, I know, I'm great."

She tip-toed and kissed his cheek. He let out a satisfied hum as he rested his head on top of hers to look at his best friend.

"Suguru," Satoru said, "what are you doing?"

"Greeting," Suguru gently smiled at passersby's and gave them warm soft-spoken welcomes.

Shit, she forgot he was there.

She handed Eevee back to Satoru, "Geto, I can do the rest." She said as she took his place at the entrance, "Thank you again for helping me." She waved to them both, "I'll catch up in a few more minutes. Have fun!"

Satoru's smile faded, "How many minutes?"

"Welcome," she told one of her classmates and then turned to Satoru, "Just a few."

"But-"

Suguru yanked him by his collar.

"Ow!"

She couldn't help but laugh.

The festival was looking to be a great day.

Gojo: *bullying a teacher*

Shoko: *smoking*

Geto: *trying to hide the smoke coming from the classroom Shoko's in*

Nanami: why are we here?

Haibara: bc it's fun :D *pops balloons in a dart game*

Let me know if I missed anyone!!

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

@phoenix666stuff @96jnie @mr-underhills-things @whatamidoing89 @wbad-world @ancientimes @whippedbyikemen @sammyiguess @pumpkindudeishere @witchofthecoffee @arminswifee (there was a problem with this one it would not let me tag you 😭)

Part 5 will probably be the aftermath of the KFC break up scene, if not then Gojo's birthday when he turns 17 in December

[notyourdaisybuchanan]

Rewatching The Bear 2x03 is actually crazy and feels so clarifying because like...

The ep starts with Carmy speaking at Al-Anon about fun, and how maybe he needs to have more of it. He acknowledges that fun is complicated for him because as a kid his family tended to ruin things for him, even though this was often unintentionally done. He says that he thinks if he had more amusement or enjoyment in his own life then it would be easier to provide that for other people. (Big note here that part of the purpose OF a restaurant is to provide amusement and enjoyment for people. Then add in Luca's conversation with Marcus in 2x04 about how the best food comes from being open and inspired, and spending time in the world. So Carmy having fun could theoretically make him better at his job.)

Anyway, Carmy gives that spiel at Al-Anon. Then we get a brief interlude of Syd looking at articles about recent restaurant closings and being stressed.

And then we're immediately back with Syd and Carmy cooking together in his kitchen. She fucks up a dish again, and he suggests they stop cooking and do a palate reset.

Like... this all happens within the first five minutes of the ep. This man has been musing about how he needs to have more fun.... and then he suggests spending the day eating in the city with Syd..... ergo that's his definition of fun. This is literally him making an attempt at doing something for amusement or enjoyment!! He planned this!! I fully believe he had this idea even before Sydney fucked up the dish. This man said I need to have more fun and you know what would be fun? Spending the day with my business partner eating delicious food. So he sends her home with plans to meet in an hour.

And then. AND THEN. Claire calls. First of all when she asks if he's busy, he looks at the white board and the very first thing on the To Do list is "call fridge guy" so like. lmao. I love foreshadowing. And he literally is busy!!! Not with unpleasant tasks to do but with something FUN. Something fun that he planned FOR himself.

And what is it that Claire asks him to do? Is it something fun? No. She asks him to HELP HER MOVE her mom. Like, the least fun task in the history of anything, the thing that people historically HATE being asked to help with. And he doesn't look excited about it! He looks torn. He looks...weird idk. Like ohhhh it's actually so crazy that Carmy bails on a truly fun day with Sydney in order to do a manual labor favor for Claire.

This is so ripe for analysis you simply cannot tell me it doesn't mean anything.

Carmy thinks about how he needs more fun, plans a fun day for himself, and then, when someone he tried to avoid asks him to do a not fun favor, he says yeah, I'll do that instead.