#just dorks being dorks

[serregon]

a little preview of another piece for @dorcuartholweek, just Beleg being cute and passionate about flowers

Beleg then spent the next hour or who-knows-how-long rambling on and on about his wonderful new findings in Valinor. How the fruits and vegetables tasted to his Beleriand tongue, how he prepared them in exotic new dishes mixed with a Doriathrim flair. He spoke of fauna, of the lovely species of insects with translucent wings who flocked to him as if he were one of their own, and of the deer who ran with him when he joined Lady Nessa on her journeys through his neck of the woods. They did not fear him, he said, and they would eat berries from his own hands. He spoke of the flora and their meanings in the language of flowers, both that of the Sindar and that of the tongues of Valinor, and how he arranged them in bilingual bouquets expressing poetry that he would be thrilled to explain in further detail.

All while he spoke, Túrin listened with few comments. Though the content of his unending rambles was new, this side of Beleg was familiar, and Túrin recalled all the times he would listen with eager ears. Frankly, Túrin retained little of the knowledge he would have gained from Beleg’s words on the birds and beasts and blossoms, but gaining knowledge was never the point. Beleg spoke about his passions with great enthusiasm, his face lighting up like the stars. When Túrin would encourage him to speak about one of his particular areas of interests, Beleg flashed a bright smile, a smile that Túrin cherished more than anything else.

“Oh, but you must be hungry, listening to me babble on for so long,” said Beleg.

“It’s alright,” said Túrin. “I like hearing you speaking about your passions.”

“Aye, but I can continue to speak inside the house, where you can listen with meats and breads, and wine or tea, whichever you’d fancy.”

[gingerel]

Tap, tap, tap.

Prompto swings his legs back and forth, the heels of his boots tapping against the dinky cabinets in the camper kitchen while Noctis scrubs at his hands in the sink.

He already showered, but while Ignis then Prompto took their turns with the lukewarm water, Noct went ahead and prepared the fish for dinner. Half boredom and half wanting to see the part shock, but mostly pleased, Ignis falls into whenever Noctis manages to surprise him. Surprise him with something good anyway. Fish scales and guts make for a scent that lingers unfortunately, making Prompto wrinkle his nose when Noct stooped down for a kiss, even though his mouth pouted prettily to accept it.

And he can’t have that.

“I think they’re clean now,” Prompto complains.

Noct rinses the soap away with the hottest water he can make, shaking them off before reaching for the clean hand towel Prompto set out for him.

“Yeah?” Noctis asks, holding them up. They feel dry, beyond the recent lack of water, the marks of the road and general disinterest in caring for them stacking up. Prompto’s hands are always soft, beyond an obvious callous on his trigger finger and Noct wonders if he should feel guilty about not being able to offer up the same.

“Lemme see,” Prompto murmurs, reaching for Noctis, making grabby motions with his hands.

Noct sets his hands into Prompto’s, palms upturned and his boyfriend parts his legs a little wider and drags him all the way in to stand between them. Thumbs press down as Prompto surveys the freshly scrubbed skin. He drops one of them quickly enough, cradling one in both his own.

“Clean enough?” Noctis asks.

Prompto nods, dragging his thumb over one of the lines on Noctis’ palm. When Noct tries to pull his hand back Prompto grips it tight, yanking it back into position with a little huff.

“What are you doing?” Noct wonders.

“Reading your palm,” Prompto tells him.

“Because that’s a real thing you definitely know how to do,” Noct says.

Prompto glares at him without tilting his head up so his glower is rather ruined by the fascinating way it appears framed by his golden eyelashes.

“By all means,” Noct laughs. “Continue.”

“This is your head line,” Prompto says confidently, jabbing it with his finger. “Yours is like, really faint, and it’s because you take so many naps.”

Noct snorts.

“Your sun and fate lines cross which means something I’m sure,” Prompto sniffs. Noct drops his forehead onto Prompto’s shoulder and shudders through a silent laugh. “But your fate line is also wrong, um fate is actually ignoring you, so we can do whatever we want and that’s nice.”

Noct smiles, wishes it could be true, wishes between the two of them they could defy whatever plan the Gods have in store for him. Whatever it is it can’t be as important as this — as Prompto.

“Your life line is strong,” Prompto says. “You’re actually gonna live to be one hundred and sixty-three years old and, I for one, am very grateful.”

“Guess I don’t need to be so careful in combat,” Noct teases, pulling back and offering a wry little smile.

“Mhm,” Prompto hums. “Because you see this little notch, right here? That’s the bit which says how Ignis has a stash of Phoenix Downs put away just for you.”

“He does not,” Noct argues.

“He does,” Prompto says softly. “I help him with the budget in the mornings sometimes, when Gladio’s off chopping wood and you’re catching up on your beauty sleep. He thinks I don’t know, but the money is exactly the cost of three Phoenix Downs.”

Prompto looks up properly, giving a little shrug as his eyes crinkle in a gentle smile. Noct squirms, uncomfortable with the idea and channels his restless energy into smoothing his palms up the outside of Prompto’s thighs.

“What else,” Noct urges, desperate to move on.

“Your sun line is super strong, which is why you can’t go to Kenny’s at three in the morning without ending up in the newspaper,” Prompto says gleefully. “Born to be famous and all that — which I know is your favourite part of existing.”

“You’re really enjoying this,” Noct accuses.

“Duh,” Prompto says, thumb moving over his palm again. “Your love line is interesting. It’s uninterrupted, which means you’ll only have one love your entire life — sorry about that.”

“Oh no,” Noctis says sarcastically. “The horror.”

“But,” Prompto goes on. “They are devoted to you, like it’s almost creepy how intensely they love you.”

“Wow, I probably need to get some space from that person,” Noct says, but he steps closer, makes it so Prompto can’t really see his hand at all. Instead of complaining Prompto just shifts his hand, tucks their palms together and interlaces their fingers.

Prompto hums softly when Noct kisses him.

“You didn’t let me tell you how it ends,” Prompto mumbles against his mouth. “It’s the best part.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t have an ending,” Noct says.

“Damn someone spoilt it for you.”

Prompto tucks his arm over Noct’s shoulders, tugs them right together, chest to chest, for another kiss. He was definitely doing something, before Prompto distracted him but it doesn’t matter. Just like the fate bearing down on him, palm be damned, is nothing in the force of what he feels for the boy currently in his arms.

With a breathless laugh, Prompto pulls them apart.

“Ignis is going to tell us off for canoodling in the kitchen,” he pecks Noct’s mouth very quickly. “Let’s go help with dinner. And later I’ll read your fortune some more.”

“Anything for you,” Noct says. And he means it.

[deddav]

Making you blush..

[rocknrollsalad-moved]

i accidentally read another writer’s stuff and now i think i’m shit: a short story by me

[eybefioro]

Wait a minute...

I knew I recognized that from somewhere lol

[mizzarh]

Couldn’t stop thinking about what would've happened if Matt actually answered the door, when Karen and Foggy showed up at his place completely wasted. So I made a few excerpts

[TRANSCRIPT: PANEL 1: Karen is laughing. Foggy bangs on the door: “Open the door Murdork!” PANEL 2: Matt opens the door: “You’re really making a lot of noise, Foggy”. Karen is giggling to herself. Foggy is excited: “He’s alive!" PANEL 3: Karen hiccups. Foggy puts his arm around Matt, visibly drunk: “Listen! Did I ever tell you that my mom really wanted me to be a butcher?”. Matt smiles to himself: “You don’t say” PANEL 4: Karen grabs Matt excitedly but stumbles over her words: “MATT! We HAVE to go to Mexico to pet.. the d-donkeys”. Matt humours her : “Right, what are we even doing here?” PANEL 5: Foggy has crashed on the couch and snores loudly PANEL 6: Matt supports Karen: “Let’s get you to bed, miss Page”. Karen is losing her balance: “sorry” PANEL 7: Karen lies in a bed while drifting off to sleep: “…the donkeys though..” PANEL 8: Matt looking softly at her: “get some rest” PANEL 9: Foggy is hungover on the couch: “Oh I’m so not drinking again. As in ever”. Matt is carrying two coffe mugs and smiles smugly: “rough morning?”. Karen is struggling next to Foggy:”I swear to god, Murdock”]

[youngmoviemaker]

It could be real . . . @bamsara

[rileyclaw]

sorry im really into this owlcraft thing and i WILL be making more comics about it

[jb-nonsense]

Gale realizing what you meant when you asked if he liked his belly rubbed

[kingfuc]

Just wanted to draw some kissin action

[jenjen4280]

Sometimes I dress exactly like the Hot Wife just to push her buttons a bit. Always makes her laugh, shake her head and roll her eyes at me. 😁

[glittter-skeleton]

I love how into that nerd she is

[conjuring-ghouls]

He has no business being this dorky and cute

[balladofthe101st]

the genre is men who act tough and hard but are actually soft, kind, and have big hearts

[shopcat]

i think in the hamster wheel of my mind a big part of where people go wrong with eddie and his shitty garage band as an extension is that they for some bizarre reason think he's gene simmons metal when he's jack black metal. heavy metal. he's tenacious d metal. he's school of rock. he's stoner lord of the rings metal he nearly wore blue jeans and plaid. jack black literally in real life once said eddie was the best character bc he's heavy metal like him. LOOK AT THIS

[mcqraw]