#just a little short thing I wrote

[peterparkeeperer]

sated boy ( Draco x reader )

“You’re so gone.”

Your voice was endeared beyond belief, a drooling Draco slumped over your lap. He was naked. You stroked your hand over the back of his thighs.

He didn’t respond, only blinked dazedly. It was all thanks to you, you’d worked countless orgasms out of his spent dick for mouthing back. You didn’t punish him for banter. Draco was bratty and cocky and that was just apart of his personality, and you were patient. You even indulged him.

But he occasionally, or rather often, pushed your buttons on purpose. You knew him through and through, and could differentiate between his normal banter and him trying to get put into his place.

So here he laid. Ass still red from the spanking he’s received. You stroked a hand faintly above them in thought and heard your boy hiss like a petty baby snake.

“I really did a number on you, huh?”

Lube was oozing out of his hole, and with cruelty you circled the rim and pushed, only just.

He whined an aborted sound. “Best part is, you’d do more if I wanted you to. My brainless little boy.”

Alas, you left his hole alone and kissed his spine instead.

“You’re gorgeous. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You cooed, and Draco nuzzled your hand when you pet his cheek and tucked a platinum lock behind his ear. Yes. This would sate your boy, for, well. A week.

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[ambipotentsbestie]

i need to talk about how much i love the pjo show's way of introducing annabeth's character's backstory, specifically through her getting used to percy's chronic loyalty

the way she attacks him with a hug both times she thought he might've been gone forever??? (the arch and after he returns to chb) this girl who doesn't hold her breath over people staying around for her, who is so so relieved everytime percy comes back to her

the way she is absolutely appalled by percy's insisent reassurance. his "i'm perfectly comfortable with that, people make mistakes" his "people who love you shouldn't treat you like that" his "you are better at this than me, you just are" this is just percy being percy, always seeing the best in people, and never once treating her like she has to prove anything to him to be treated with care

and she's so caught off guard every time!! she tells grover to tell percy to pull himself together. she tells him "i guess so" when he asks if he has to earn it with her too. she is IMMEDIATELY at a loss for words when percy tells her that she's the one meant for the quest. that she's better at this. that he's not trying to sacrifice himself for his own glory, it has nothing to do with him, he's only thinking of her

and that's so new to annabeth!! someone who isn't trying to make her prove anything! someone who from the beginning saw her worth! not someone like her mother, who would see her die because she felt embarassed by her. not someone like her father, who loved her at first and because of someone else, began to not(or at least she thought so). not like Thalia, who made her prove herself, who for all valiance, still died, still left her. not like Luke, who promised family, and then betrayed her.

she's not used to someone who stays just for her

or in her own words,

"He's not like that, he's better than that"

i love annabeth chase

[softmangoes]

echoes | a sunny day jack shortfic

18+ only

in the darkness, jack dreams.

it's one of the few things he can do in the void that has kept him prisoner for god knows how long. his steps resound throughout the emptiness, the glassy ground offering nothing else but his distorted reflection.

a long time ago, he stopped wandering to find his freedom. a little after that, he stopped screaming into the static hoping that someone would hear him. save him. now, he walks to remind himself that he still exists: a series of echoes in an endless abyss.

jack does not sleep. fatigue does not weigh heavy on his bones. here, there is only the cold. as he wanders this wretched plane, he dreams of sweetness. of light. of warmth.

he dreams of things he knows he does not deserve.

but something is different: in the distance, he hears a familiar song cut through the static. memories of old friends surface. for the first time in ages, he does not feel alone.

this is his chance. perhaps his only one.

jack does not hesitate. the cold bites at his skin. he takes off running towards the light and the warmth to the sweet, sweet brightness of freedom.

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the new ask game

"If I have to force you I will"

Brudick

send a ship and a quote and i'll write a a short fic!

this is so inspired, anon. here's 2.7k of BruDick whump. warning for non-con somnophilia, but it's very brief. the whole fic is very non-con/dead dove in nature tho. this takes place during Jason's Robin era. enjoy <3

Dick could feel Bruce’s eyes on him from across the room, even without looking. He made a point not to look. Instead, Dick focused on helping Jason set his dislocated shoulder.

“How does that feel?” Dick asked. He pressed his fingers against the bone, just to double check for any breaks.

“I’m fine,” Jason insisted. He hopped off the medical gurney and pulled away from Dick’s touch. An immediate wince came out of Jason when his feet hit the ground. His ankle was at best, swollen. At worst, sprained.

With how hard Killer Croc threw Jason into that brick wall, he was lucky to walk away with a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle. Dick still couldn’t get the noise of Jason’s small body slamming against the hard brick and the noise he’d made when he fell to the ground.

“You should take a couple weeks off patrol at least,” Dick said, putting away the leftover bandages. “To let it heal.”

Jason made a face at Dick, his mouth screwing up like he’d eaten something sour. “I said I was fine!” He didn't look fine. He was pale and a little sweaty from the pain. “Right, B?” Going right above Dick's head, Jason turned to Bruce with an expectant look.

Dick finally let himself look at Bruce. He levelled Bruce with a deadly glare. Now though, Bruce was the one avoiding his gaze.

“We’ll talk about it later, chum.” Bruce walked over to them and ruffled Jason’s head with disgusting affection that made Dick’s lip curl.

He had nothing against Jason. But he damn well knew Bruce was doing it to get a rise out of Dick. The worst part, it was working remarkably well.

“Get to bed now,” Bruce said, patting Jason’s good shoulder.

Jason gave a nod that was a little too serious, like he was facing a war general giving an order. Given who he was talking to, Dick supposed it wasn't far off. Jason ran off to the stairs, almost managing to hide his limp. Dick watched him disappear up the steps.

He was a good kid.

Too good for this life.

“That could've gotten him killed.” Dick didn't look in Bruce’s direction, but there was no one else in the cave he could've been talking to. No one else on the planet Dick would speak to with such an icy tone.

“You would've stuck that landing at his age,” Bruce said coolly, pointedly avoiding the hostility bleeding from Dick.

Dick whipped his head around. “I had more training at his age.” So many insults sat on Dick’s tongue. He managed to swallow all of them without choking. “Take better care of Jason.” With that, Dick turned on his heel and walked toward where his motorcycle was parked in the bay of the cave.

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked. Like he had any right to know.

“Home,” Dick snapped. He wanted his bed and shitty take out from the only place in Bludhaven open this late.

“This is your home.”

Dick’s hand curled into a fist, itching to hit Bruce. He wouldn't stoop that low. “Not since you kicked me out, it isn't.”

“You still have a place here.” Bruce’s voice was as even and emotionless as it always was. He could've been talking about the weather.

Emotions were weakness to Bruce. And there was a time Dick naively believed Bruce trusted him enough to share that weakness with Dick.

What a joke that was.

“No, I don't,” Dick spoke through grit teeth. He just needed to keep walking to his bike and leave Bruce and his rotting city behind.

“Then why are you even here?”

Dick spun around fast enough to make his hair fall over his face. He really should cut it, but he liked the length. Bruce had always made him keep it short. For practicality. Now, letting it grow just past his shoulders, Dick’s hair was one of the few pieces of self expression he had.

“Because I made a promise to Jason,” Dick’s words dripped with all the anger he could muster, looking into Bruce’s cold blue eyes. “I would be there if he called. Unlike you, I keep promises.” It was a cold insult that hit below the belt.

“You think I couldn't have handled Croc?” Bruce arched an eyebrow. He was trying to back Dick into a corner and Dick knew it. Drag some kind of confession out of Dick that he'd come to see Bruce for some hopeless romantic reason.

Bruce could keep hoping. Dick was there for Jason and nothing more.

“Clearly you couldn't,” Dick pointed out. “Jason got hurt.”

For the briefest second, real emotion flashed across Bruce's eyes. It was something, at least. A small proof he really did care about Jason.

“He just wanted to see you.” Bruce regained his composure. “He looks up to you. He's been talking about training with you.”

Dick shook his head with a cold laugh. “I’m not falling for that. If he wants to train, he can come to me. Don't use him to get to me.” He gave Bruce a final warning look before turning back around.

“Stay.”

“No.” Dick didn't look back. His bike was within arm’s reach when a hand grabbed his arm.

“Dick,” Bruce was trying to sound soft. The command in his voice ruined the illusion of kindness.

“Don’t.” No matter how much Dick knew Bruce’s kindness was a ruse, he couldn't stop himself from mirroring it. The anger left his tone and was replaced by something softer. “It’s late and I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Call in,” Bruce said. Easy for him to say with his billionaire pockets.

Dick shook his head. He tried to pull his arm free. “This isn't happening again. It's especially not happening now.” Jason’s face flashed across Dick’s mind. In Dick’s Robin suit.

That betrayal was still a raw wound.

“Dick, I…” Bruce trailed off. “I'm sorry for how I- for how things happened.” Just as he almost took accountability, he skirted past it. A vague, half-assed apology that wasn't going to fix anything now.

“You should've said that and a hell of a lot more over a year ago,” Dick just shook his head. He tugged his arm harder. Bruce’s grip was a vice.

“Please stay.” Despite the words, it sounded like an order, not a request. Bruce’s brow hardened.

“Bruce,” Dick said, setting his jaw. “Let go.”

Bruce raised a hand and for a second, Dick almost flinched, expecting to be hit. Instead, Bruce's fingers hovered in the air before cupping Dick’s face. He was still wearing his suit, but Dick could feel the gentle body heat through the glove. He gasped.

A thumb stroked Dick’s cheek. And for a part of him, it was hard not to give in to. There was comfort in the familiarity. How easily Bruce slotted back into a role he used to perfectly fill in Dick’s life.

Dick didn't need Bruce in that role, though. And he definitely didn't want him there.

“Just the night,” Bruce offered, still stroking with his thumb. “I’ll order from the Chinese place you like.”

“I said no.” Dick took a half a step back.

The gentle, loving hand holding Dick’s face shifted to a brutally possessive grip without warning. Bruce held Dick by his jaw, fingers digging in enough to make Dick hiss.

“If I have to force, you I will.” It was dangerous, how matter-of-factly Bruce said it. No violence or threatening nature to the statement. Just a plain coldness.

Dick flinched. His full body recoiled.

“Are you out of your mind?” Dick hissed.

Bruce has been rough with Dick, before. But only when Dick asked for it.

Never like this.

The only thing Bruce had ever forced Dick to do was leave. At the time, it had been the worst thing Bruce ever did to Dick.

This was worse, now.

“You can't force me to do anything,” Dick said when Bruce didn't answer. He just started at Dick with those empty eyes. “I’m not under your thumb anymore.”

“I want to know you're safe,” Bruce spoke so calmly, like he wasn't trying to force Dick to stay against his will. Like he was practically doing Dick a favor. “Someone needs to look out for you and make sure you're taking care of yourself.”

“I have people,” Dick said, and it wasn't a lie. He had the Titans, his friends and coworkers in Bludhaven. “I don't need you. I never did, Bruce. You never understood that.” Dick’s heart was beating too fast in his chest. Bruce had to be bluffing. Trying to fake Dick out or something.

The grip on his jaw was going to bruise if Bruce kept it up.

“I need you, though,” Bruce’s voice was low and quiet. “That's what I was wrong about when I kicked you out. I thought…” he didn't finish the sentence. He just shook his head once. “I didn't know how much I needed you. And I need you now, Dick.”

Dick leaned in close to Bruce’s face. “I don't care what you need.” He pulled back and twisted his head away to wrench it from Bruce’s grip. A single well aimed strike to Bruce’s inner wrist forced his hand to open, letting go of Dick’s arm.

For a second, Dick was free.

It was a short second.

Dick didn't have time to step back. He didn't have time to think before Bruce lunged.

It was a brutal and effective pin. One that Dick had always struggled to get out of during training. Bruce grabbed Dick’s wrist and twisted him around, forcing him to his knees. Bruce’s own knee pinned Dick down, pressed between his shoulder blades while Dick’s arm was held at a painful angle.

He had one arm free. But it was difficult to grab Bruce from where he was standing. The shock of being pinned in the first place slowed his reaction.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Dick gasped. He reached back to grab an escrima stick. If Bruce wanted a fight, Dick would give him one.

His hand was stopped before he could reach the weapon. Bruce just grabbed that wrist too and hauled Dick back up to his feet like he weighed nothing. He pinned Dick against his own body, Dick’s arm painfully trapped between the two of them.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Bruce said into Dick’s ear. His breath was warm on Dick’s skin in a sickly way. “Stay with me for the night.”

Instead of answering with words, Dick lifted his foot and kicked Bruce as hard as he could in the shin. Bruce stumbled and Dick dropped into a crouch, ready to flip Bruce off of him.

Before he could, something sharp pinched against his neck and Dick gasped.

The psychotic bastard.

His body slumped, weightless in Bruce’s arms that shifted to cradle Dick. Gently, like a lover.

Then, Dick slipped away.

Once he was drugged, it was easy to pull compliance out of Dick.

Bruce just had to carry him up the stairs and into Bruce’s bedroom. He carefully stripped both of their suits, laying them out for Alfred to wash in the morning.

Dick wasn't quite unconscious.

But he was groaning and sluggish, unable to hold his eyes open or form real words. When Bruce touched him, his body yielded and gave in so sweetly.

The way he was supposed to give in to Bruce.

Dick wouldn't remember any of it when it woke up. But his body would.

His body, warm and beautiful under Bruce’s hands. There were new scars Bruce didn't know about. He made sure to show attention to every one with gentle kisses and colorful hickeys.

But he felt the same when Bruce was buried inside of his right warmth.

Even in a drugged state, Dick reacted beautifully. Soft moans and twitches as Bruce fucked him. Slow and gentle. It was so easy to manipulate Dick’s body into the right positions. He was just as flexible as he’d always been.

Bruce liked the long hair, he decided, when he buried his fingers into it to pull Dick into an embrace while Dick whimpered.

Beautiful. Perfect.

With a hand curled around Dick’s cock, they both came as Bruce groaned Dick’s name into his sweet skin.

Bruce licked Dick’s cum off his sweaty skin. Glassy eyes watched him, struggling to say something. It almost sounded like Bruce’s name.

After finishing, Bruce cleaned both of them up and climbed into bed, arranging Dick in his arms the way they used to cuddle in bed. He closed his eyes.

Dick was home now. Where he belonged. Bruce was stupid for ever sending him away. But he was home. That was what mattered.

They would figure out the rest later.

Dick came back to awareness in a warm bed with a sore body. The sheets and pillows were familiar. They smelled familiar. His body ached in familiar places too.

Before Dick even opened his eyes, he knew where he was.

He sat up. His body was still slow and stiff. Whatever Bruce had drugged him with was a hell of a thing.

Bruce drugged him. And fucked him.

Too many feelings flickered through Dick at once for him to parse out. Anger. Confusion. Shock.

Betrayal.

Dick tuned them out. He needed to take stock. Stay focused. At least until he was out of Bruce’s home.

The sunlight filtering through the windows marked the time as late morning. Bruce’s side of the bed was empty, but Dick could hear the shower running from the ensuite bathroom.

His suit was nowhere to be found. Which left Dick stuck in Bruce’s bed, naked and vulnerable.

He tried to keep his heartrate steady. The sheets got bunched up in Dick’s first.

The moment Bruce came out of the shower Dick was going to break his goddamn-

“Bruce!” The bedroom door flew open and Jason skidded into the room. “Bruce, Alfred wants to know where he should put-” Jason froze like a deer in headlights when he saw Dick. For a moment he just stared, wide eyed and open mouthed.

Dick look down at himself and swore. He snatched the blanket that was pooled around his waist, pulling it up tight to his chest. It was too late. They both knew Jason had already seen all the bite marks scattered across Dick’s skin.

“I-” Jason stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, I didn't know-”

Like some kind of divine timing, the bathroom door opened. Bruce stepped out in nothing but loose boxers, drying his hair. He saw Dick, then Jason. His expression changed for both of them, settling on a coy smile.

“We’ve talked about knocking, Jason,” Bruce said calmly.

Jason’s face was so red it looked like it was about to catch on fire. “Sorry.”

“Head down to the kitchen for breakfast,” Bruce just gave him a fond look. “Dick and I will join you in a few minutes.”

“You’re staying for breakfast?” Jason’s eyes lit up looking at Dick.

Dick couldn't openly scowl at Bruce with Jason’s eyes on him. But he knew what Bruce was doing. And he had no choice, backed into a corner like this.

“Yeah.” Dick forced a smile. “Just for a little while.”

Jason whooped with excitement and ran out of the room as quickly as he’d came into it.

Dick whipped his head around and leveled Bruce with a deadly look.

“After breakfast,” Bruce said, before Dick can speak. “We’ll discuss this then.”

“You had no goddamn right-”

Bruce cut him off with a chaste kiss. Dick choked against Bruce’s mouth. All of his protests forced away. Dick’s heart was pounding. Too many emotions at once.

He swallowed his pride and kissed Bruce back.

[quinn-pop]

magolor does not know how to be a real person part 5

bro has vulnerability issues so bad he can only laugh at them

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[messrsbyler]

green

Will’s eyes always turned a bit greener during sunsets. Although, green wasn’t the correct word to describe them. Beautiful, sparkling, infinite; those were words that could paint a picture of Will’s eyes, but none of them could depict their colour as the sun sank below the skies.

Mike imagined the sunlight of an afternoon seeping through the branches and leaves of a tree in full bloom. He thought of the halos around the green and the oranges from the clouds, the mix of shades and lights all reflected in Will’s eyes, and yet again came empty for a word to describe it all.

He was in the process of pondering over the limitations of the English language and how unfair all of it was, when Will turned away from the sunlight bathing his face and found Mike looking. A nervous smile pulled from his lips and a new shade spread over his cheeks. It was as lovely and as lacking of a name as his eyes were.

“What?” he asked.

Mike kept looking at Will and shook his head. There was so much he could fit in that question alone. He could talk about how ‘green’ was a stupid and plain word, about sunsets and trees and leaves, about heartbeats and old promises made in a basement.

Everything, he wanted to say. But just as ‘green’, the word felt too big and yet too hollow and plain.

“Nothing,” he said instead and smiled back. “Just looking.”

[selliho6530]

I want to see a fanfiction where Jayce, after all the shit he saw, moves not back to his universe, but to the past, to season 1, where he meets Viktor in their laboratory and kills him...

One fanfiction started like that, but everything slipped into the usual gay fuck, which of course I don't mind, but the beginning was too promising...

[kinos-fortress-2]

ok another headcanon and is from my ultimate comfort favs:

When demo got first hired by pauling he was like very shy and introverted at some point where everyone wasn’t like… that conjoined and besties as how they are now. And i feel like he got a pretty rough time to even start to talk with his teammates or get a tiny friendship with them.

And he often times was very threatened by small lady in glasses that liked to be strict with them in their first day since… it was business only ofc

but by the time when pauling got a bit more soft with them, and got also a bit friendly with demo i feel like at some point he started to develop a tiny crush with her since she was the one who often talks more with, and i have this other hc that also he would fell easily with people that befriends him (not like anyone of course it really does depends the person for him)

so you know pauling it’s nerdy and a bit sensitive (she cries very easily) and she is very friendly or a bit more extrovert if she gets to, but like in a sense where she is more ambivert too. uhhh idk she is just talkative with people if you get her chance where she’s not busy and will tell you to go to hell. rough lady

and he liked that! i think he thought they both shared some stuffs along and can infodump their love for guns and for the work they are in and then if they can go a bit personal with some drinks and he liked that he could share this stuffs with her all chill and cool

but i feel like he just had this side secret crush with her and stopped those want to be romantic feelings because he really saw she is not like, up to those stuffs, she is so focused on work and also stressed and depressed like him and he could just understand that she just only want someone to listen to her but she will not like, pay that much attention about romantic relationships and he could completely understand that once he get to know her more deeply. and he just couldn’t do that to the one who also considered a friend and he probably guessed she will not feel the same for him but that didn’t like hurt him and is not like he ever confessed to her. he just had those secret feelings for her for a time and then realized she was not really like the one for him to be in a relationship

and that’s where i thought of him now having a more soft spot for her and caring her like a sister (not like literally but in a familiar soft spot sense, but that’s ofc his friend)

so yeah idk 👍

[leenukeath]

Childhood treasure

It was such a little thing. A bunch of old fabrics sewn together and barely holding with singed threads, yet something in it made the still young Bounty Hunter kneel down and pick it up.

A burned house, a grisly sight that dated a few days ago, the embers had turned to coals and the ashes had already been scattered by the winds. Many footsteps in the burnt floorboards, people had been there after the act.

The old rabbit plush had been spared ironically by ending up in an old pot over the chimney, singed but still salvageable. The question now was if its owner was still around to lay claim to it. Tardif sighed, there was little chance a child could survive a house burning, and even if they had escaped these woods were too dangerous for anyone without strong survival instincts and knowledge, whoever this toy belonged to, they were probably gone by now.

He should have thrown the thing away and gone back on his way but something stilled his hand, instead coaxing him to shove the sad burnt thing in his knapsack and take it with him. He figured maybe he would find a child who would want it later. A few days later when resting at an inn, he pulled it out again, examining the burn spots and pulling out his sewing kit. One of his old shirts that was too ragged to be used was cleanly cut to patch up the various holes making it look somewhat less miserable. A thorough wash in the bassin with some soap rinced away the soot and dark patches, leaving a somewhat less grimy looking but still lovingly used bunny. He hated to admit it but he was starting to get attached to it.

~

It never left his knapsack, Tardif would never be able to live with the shame of being caught with a plush toy in his possession but the rabbit in his bag had become a somewhat soothing presence in his life, a thing to hold and let witness his less dignified moments of weakness. For a lone fighter like him, the presence was welcome, even if it was only with eyes of threads.

~

It was in that damned estate that he thought he was finally going to break. His will thrown against the walls of horrors they were constantly being submitted to alongside the threat of death made the facade of strength harder to keep up with each day. His secret possession in his bag beneath his bunk felt more and more important to anchor himself to this reality.

Then one day Missandei mentionned the forest she used to live in, and the fire. When asked about it, she spoke about how she had to run away when she was barely eight, holding her father's crossbow that she had had to trade for her dear rabbit… He knew he had found her, that he should give her what was rightfully hers back, but it tore his heart as well. His precious companion taken away from him, who would he allow to see his tears now?

Yet the thought of a child forced to grow into a killer much too fast, faster than even he had to made him reconsider. And the next day he brought her a box containing their little treasure of fabric and stuffing. "You made her a little outfit?!" exclaimed Missandei when she picked it up, examining the cautiously sewn together pullover on the plush rabbit. Tardif nervously rubbed the back of his neck: "Well it was such a sad thing when I found it… figured I'd make it less miserable."

Missandei happily took her rabbit back, to Tardif's slight chagrin, but her genuine happiness in the following days was a slight ray of light in the darkness of this world. She made sure to spend as much time as she could with the usually reserved Bounty Hunter, to his reluctant appreciation, and sometimes came back to him asking for help with repairs and weapon maintenance. Tardif may have lost a dear trinket, but had gained a friend, the rarest reward he had ever been blessed with.

[chalametluvrz]

thinking about perv!jonathan and the amount of headcanons i could write about him tbh!

[bookshelf-in-progress]

June Writing Wishlist

Finish something for each of the unfinished Chesterton Challenge prompts (current plans are for two pieces of flash fiction, a bit of Arateph worldbuilding, and two scenes from Shadowstruck)

Write at least 10,000 words of a single project (or, possibly, divide it up between two shorter retellings)

[hotsugarbyglassanimals]

it's probably the sunnier weather that's doing stuff to my brain to make me more optimistic but it's so interesting having a brain that craves a lot of self-fulfillment to the point where I can move past some hang-ups around perfection by going "oh I really wanna do that though" and then I do it well because researching how to do it right is also a rewarding part of the process

[choccorin]

hi ....

[weaponizedmoth]

The teeth I broke are in my mouth.

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