#leery's mimic

[polturn]

Some drawings of my old cryptid OCs.

The headless coyotes are the Leery Mimric, made when a coyote is struck by lightning. They convince humans to wear their masks so they can possess them and pilot their body and cause mischief.

And the other are Clown Apes who are mountain dwelling cryptids with kaleidoscopically patterned faces that can induce hallucinogenic trance states as a predator deterrent (but usually its just hikers).

Art tag for more of these ocs

[witchofthesouls]

(Crossover snippet between Bayverse and TFP!Other!humans-into-Cybertronians with Cyber!Unfathomable!June Ayooo, shoutout to @skyite for that particular tag!)

"That has to be the most undog-like dog in existence."

Major William Lennox silently agreed with the ranger. The mechanical animal was massive and seemed far more akin to a prehistoric canid rather than the modern domestic dog.

On its hind legs, it easily towered over the tallest Autobot on the base. A terrifying fact, considering that the Big Guy, both of them, was already a solid 30 feet, and it really hammered in that it could hunt other things just as large.

It sat eerily still and absolutely silent. Not a yip, a growl, or a chuff from the beast. Not even when Miko tugged on its upright ears with a delighted scream, swinging like an energetic parakeet on its favorite perch before whipping over to slide down its back and scurry elsewhere. Preferably the higher ground of another bot's shoulder or to the roof to jump off again.

Its ghost-white eyes burned far brighter with its dark frame, lenses unblinking as it tracked the kids, especially Jack’s flickering wingspan, as it did its best to mimic a giant statue not out of place on the steps of a gothic mansion.

Bonecrusher would be an apt name for the thing; everyone had seen its teeth, jarring to see it so gentle when picking up the kids by the scruffbar.

Agent Fowler was already inoculated by his experience with the Other Half of his dimension’s reality, so seeing mechanical children that greatly outsized the average human adult running amuck across the walls and ceiling wasn't the tip of the iceberg of weirdness that could happen.

The species change was alarming, but no other issues arose from the artifact as it was sequestered by Jasper Hospital for further containment.

The rest of the base? Not as well.

Jack had already spooked nearly everyone, including this universe’s version of the Autobots, by being his strange self; unique even here with the ability to suppress himself completely, frame falling eerily silent with the lack of weight in his steps and the lack of the usual noise that Cybertronian bodies had whenever they needed to move. No whirrs, no pneumatic hiss of joints, no crack or slide of plating and seams. Appearing and disappearing like a ghost bird-cat-like boy that chased his curiosity, especially since Jack was still small enough to duck under human-sized doors and happily feed the growing murder outside. Crows that hadn't existed before their dimensional hop.

Miko was Miko. Loud and demanding and practically had another Ratchet and Optimus to jungle gym all over, shrieking and chirping over their shoulders like a pink-plated parrot. She caused her own mayhem with her multiple attempts to dart outside for an unauthorized venture into the sea. She howled and screamed whenever one ‘bot managed to catch her before she hit the waves. Her aggressive clawing into the bot’s plating had made the humans leery of her; as did her vicious gnawing in the multi-faced cephalopod of a squishmallow, digging those sharp teeth into a fat tentacle with gusto as one of the 'bots indulged her with a game of tug-of-war or a modified fetch.

Raf commanded most of the positivity by the Diego Garcia base personnel. After all, who could say they have a dragon at their place. A fire-breathing one, too. 

Granted, it was only small licks of flame, but it set the excitement ablaze throughout the base and implemented far more fire extinguishers with Jack’s and Miko’s pyro-derived artistic tendencies to tickle Raf’s softer underbelly to play with ash and soot remains.

Compared to a polite, yet terror-inducing Jack and a hyper, bite-happy Miko, Raf was absolutely easy-going, adorableness with his chubby frame and rounded limbs and fat tail. 

More than one human had been delighted over the sight of it wagging with a suitable rock and it kicked off a new game to see what kinds of minerals would make the baby dragon the happiest. Puppy-like with his outside digging habit, voracious appetite, and constant need for nuzzles and scratches.

The mechanics and diagnostic crews started to bring in large bits of metal and rocks to pay tribute to the Predacon to spare their own equipment from being rummaged and eaten. Agent Fowler would bet his savings that quite a few people had taken videos of little dragon nosing and pawing and chirping at various Autobots for his uppsies and getting tuck up in an arm to be carted around like a football.

"That’s because you're not seeing it properly," came an amused voice from above. Both of the men looked up to see June looming over them. “Agent Fowler. Major Lennox.” 

"Ms. Darby." The ranger nodded as the other man hid his startlement well, only a small flinch; something as tall as Optimus Prime shouldn't move that sudden and silent. "Anything to share with the class?"

"I made contact with this world's version of the Foundation." The off-beat blue of her optics swirled, even far above, eddying like water. "They initialized the return procedures for our universe."

Of course, there would be procedures for multiverse dimensional-hopping.

"Good. Anything they need from our end?"

She chuckled, ponytail flicking in a serpentine motion, and she smiled. Unlike Jack's careful, closed smiles, June was far more willing to show off her own wicked teeth. Not the wide one that broke her face, but a curl of her lips for a knife-sharp gleam.

“Oh, gentlemen,” she purred. “The Foundation is so very interested in what’s going on here.”

[agent-calivide]

I know that Juniper is likely canonically dead, but also consider:

Juniper with deep electric scars

Juniper salvaging his career (because let’s be honest, he has the money to pull it off)

Juniper looking in the mirror and having a constant physical reminder of his failures

Juniper sitting up at night, feeing guilt and regret churn his stomach

Juniper having a fear of wearing full-face masks, only able to wear domino masks for short periods of time after the mimic mask fried his face

Juniper feeling tense during thunderstorms because the lightning reminds him of the Zoraxis base blowing up

Juniper feeling leery of getting in his jet because what if Zoraxis rigged it like he did for Phoenix

Juniper never feeling able to reach out for help because who’d help a war criminal? If anyone found out that shit did happen they’d call him a monster- maybe he was

Juniper having to make a mask of himself. A Juniper mask for him to wear before he does any acting or interviews because he’s just a shell of a man he was before, and he has to act like his old self for his job

Juniper becoming a caricature of his former self

[sagemonsters]

A Tiger of Persia (i.e. my mlm weretiger x human multi-chapter story set in Achaemenid-era Persia) is going really well. Like, incredibly well, in spite of my decision to re-write the entire thing (after completing/sharing the current draft) for the sake of historical/cultural nuance. I broke 5,000 words after writing for just 4 days. That's insane! Usually I struggle with that kind of output, but this just sort of flowed out of me and I feel really inspired to continue. Next chapter we're going to meet the weretiger properly, I promise. Pinky swear. There are two more chapters to go, and the last one will be an optional smut chapter (I wanted to include that at the very end so that readers who prefer SFW content can skip it without missing any of the story proper).

I'm trying to decide what to write next. Currently I'm really interested in the Greenland Viking civilization and how it collapsed, and I could do something interesting there with Arctic merfolk... but Greenland settlements = contact and probably conflict with indigenous Inuit groups, which is a whole can of colonial worms I am leery of opening. I think this fic would involve a cis female human, a wise woman sort of character, paired with a cis female mermaid.

The other option is something set in Renaissance-era Italy involving a noblewoman and a mimic/haunted armor type of demon thing. This would be a cis female human x cis male demon, with more emphasis on sex scenes than my other fics. The plot would involve the newly-married noblewoman's cruel husband receiving his comeuppance, and potentially a siege or other attack on the castle where the noblewoman lives.

What do you think?

[brooklynislandgirl]

@ronmanmob    {{xx}} {{tagging @nolegacies for reasons}}

Girl, in all likelihood, is a magpie. Bright colours and shiny ink seems to garner a lot of attention the way patrons do not. Paper does not send her fleeing up the stairs or out the back door not to be seen for a week. Her world is filled with three people ~Boy, Mr Kray, Mountain-That-Talks~ and innumerable dogs. The little grey who had been her companion has settled in with the other dogs and is now part of the pack. She doesn't belong to Girl, really, any more but it's fair to say Ron Kray is a far better caretaker than Girl could be. Case in point, sharing his fish and chips with her even if she only steals little pieces, the ones he sets aside. Perhaps its the anxiousness of Boy being out because he's needing the kind of water he cannot get within the safety of the pub. Or maybe it might just be that she lives off air and sunlight not unlike the plants Ron tends. Sometimes they do well with feeding but it isn't a necessary thing. Sitting at his table she noticed the noticed the pretty paper. A contrast to the usual black-and-white with the words printed on them kind. She'd been leery when he picked up the pens and shook her head. He coaxed her into copying the things he wrote. She could see the patterns even if they were meaningless. Ron Kray doesn't make fun of her inability to do more than that. It also goes to show she has not had many experiences with toys. How to play games. The concept is easier to understand. Her side of the game is convoluted, turns taking forever to convey her meaning, her answers often in shrugs and to make up for it she's far quicker and more elaborate in asking him questions. When he says he has two, she looks up from the paper on the ends of her fingers and carefully pulls the fortune maker from them as if they are the most precious resource in the world. His face reminds her of the moon, it doesn't hold a lot of little expressions but changes in phases. She can't quite follow him when he goes through the emptiness of the hidden one, when all there are is stars, sometimes clouds. The only real difference is she's not afraid of the vastness of him. It's a different sort than the one she's used to. There's nothing clinical. There's nothing cruel or distant or a hundred other things she could never express. She reaches out while he debates himself internally and takes one of the crisps off the plate and then dips it into the ketchup she dolloped on a napkin so it wouldn't touch anything else. She swallows guiltily when he speaks again. Maybe that's why he offers her something just a teensy bit more substantial. She likese the ones with the chocolate between two cookie parts. She takes one and sets it neatly beside her own cup of mostly milk-coffee. She watches his hands now instead of his face, bare autumn branches that sway with his words. The question scares her but she doesn't flinch away, though maybe she does squirm a little bit in her chair. Makes it look like she's only readjusting her legs for comfort. She breathes a heavy sigh between her lips, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face. It is easier to answer the second question first. She mimics the same word, Girl with more emphasis, then herself. She is, yes, a girl. All the constituent parts. She thinks she might have had a name once. Sometimes she dreams of a dark haired woman whose features are indistinct. Like a reflection in a fogged-up window. But sometimes she smiles and holds Girl close and sings her songs she never remembers when she wakes up. She swipes at the side of her nose with her knuckle. Not conveying anything beyond wiping at the dampness from her eyes. She does then proceed with signs and pantomime that at the Place where the White Coats imprisoned them, there was never a use for names. Only Boy and Girl or worse. Numbers.

She indicates herself and then very slowly she taps on the table top. Each series of thumps is separated by a quick slash of her flattened hand.

9. 6. 8. 1. 5. 2. 0. 0. 4. 2. 8. 0. 6.

That sequence, she tells him, is what she was called in the Place.

Female subject 9681520042806.

Girl. She tries to tell Ron Kray that Boy isn't much different. Male subject HS620051310. She half-smiles but there's something utterly withdrawn, sad about it at the edges. The next part takes far too long. At the Place, all the Girls and all the Boys ~known only by their numbers~ were constantly watched by the White Coats. Constantly poked and prodded and examined. Eventually, the ones who showed nothing special were taken away and never seen again. The ones who did have something special were tested and trained and made to do horrible things that she refuses to talk about. But more often than not, she ~Girl~ remembers the screaming. The crying. The utter misery that shrouded the Place thicker than the fog, the cold grey sea that lapped at the rocky shore. When they ~the girls and the boys~ were caught speaking together even in the softest of whispers, the entire group would be punished for it. Only the White Coats were allowed to speak unless absolutely necessary. Eventually, she and Boy were chosen, as two of the oldest, to be leaders. They were given permission to speak to the younger ones. After that, she and Boy were often put together in the same room. They were encouraged to... ...her hands fall silent. Pair-bonded, the White Coats had called them. She would hold Boy when he was scared and sometimes sang to him the fragments of music from her dreams. She would save him the lion's share of the food. He would braid her hair for her and soothe the ache with his large warm hands when they pushed her too far. Eventually she and Boy talked of escaping with the younger children. To get as far away as they could and disappear. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat as those far-too recent memories come flooding back. What happened to the younger ones. Some were recaptured, but others... She and Boy were the only ones who had made it this far. And maybe only because of Mr Kray's help. Her hands rise again and the answer is simple.

It got scared away, and Girl hasn't found it yet.

[lennyinlordran]

The Zaradus Regime [Parts 1-2]

Part 1 A news broadcast from Donna Luther’s favorite televangelist, Reverend James.

“We have to interview a local with evidence of a diabolical extraterrestrial conspiracy, introducing John Doe!”

Leo, talking on the phone with Sasha, blithely asked, “So, know about any alien plots to destroy the town?”

“No. Well, outside of my selling the extracts of Venusian Fruit as an antidepressant, with FDA approval, no.”

“Right. Just checking.”

On the news, the nonsense continued. A recommendation that all the “good, honest Christians” wear metallic head coverage during an upcoming concert for local bands. Some poorly evidenced nonsense. The only real draw being “a man of god says it.”

Later Sasha was out for a walk, when she noticed that several people were wearing tinfoil hats, and several more were glaring at her with strange suspicion.

Sasha saw a guy on a street corner yelling “get your hats here! Tinfoil lined and socially accepted!”

Sasha made a mental note to investigate this “John Doe”

She hadn’t gone to a church in years. She had renounced her faith in Zhal'lel, and saw no reason for faith.

This would be a strange encounter indeed. Sasha went into church after the service to see Reverend James hanging out with church staff, chatting it up sharing jokes.

Sasha opted for the direct approach.

“Reverend James. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

James turned to look at Sasha, his face shifting from Merriment to a leery glare.

“And you are?”

“Sasha Kramer. On your morning news, you interviewed a man named ‘John Doe’.”

“Named what?”

“John Doe. Do you think-“

“Never heard of him.”

Sasha stopped. “I see. Good day.”

She left and went to speak with Rhett.

Late that night, she broke into the local television Centers. With a new gadget at her disposal- a piece of sophisticated spyware developed by the Rhumerians during-

Basically, it mimics the FaceTime functions of a cellphone, and has no other features. Shaped like a Polaroid, but with a microphone attached.

Sasha had her friend Rhett “on call” here.

However, their combined deductive powers couldn’t find any sort of alien tampering.

“Looks like the Broadcast is genuine”

“So Reverend James is a damn liar. Guess I’ll have to locate ‘John Doe’ some other way.”

Sasha cut the call and left. How best to go about the investigation… she had an idea.

Part 2 She returned to her attic base crawling up the side of the house and through the balcony.

In the room, Racks of soil filled with plants under otherworldly lights from machines lined one wall, an set of storage boxes sat in the corner. From the balcony, moonlight streamed into the room, highlighting the curled nest of the room primary occupant. Next the nest, a low table occupied by strange instruments of glass and metal, in various states of dis-and-reassembly.

On the side of the table adjacent to the nest, Ned was sitting down playing on a game boy.

“Sasha, why don’t you have any family photos?” he innocently asked.

“Not your business. Can you get out of here? Please?”

“Why?” Asked Ned.

“Some of the plants here are- I’ll explain later.”

“Do you have a boyfriend? And why are your eye whites… not white?” Asked Ned.

Sasha struggled to refrain from giving out a growl of vaguely sociopathic hatred, and said, in a monotone of polite dismissal,

“No. Don’t want one either. Please leave the room.”

“You sound like a serial killer.” Said Ned. “I’m bored. My mum’s asleep and I want a bedtime story.”

“Just a moment.” Sasha slithered back out the window. She wanted to do the pragmatic thing, slapping a sleep patch on him and then letting exhaustion take her. She opted to do the “right thing”

Sasha crawled onto the attic ceiling, then proceeded to crawl down the attic stairs.

When she returned, Ned was patiently waiting for an actual answer. She sat down in her nest, opened up a picture book, and motioned for Ned to sit on her lap.

After waking up the next day with an unconscious 10-year-old and children’s storybook on her lap, Sasha briefly wondered where this newfound maternal side came from, before opted to clear her brain and get to work.

She went checked over her weaponry. She still had the .5 kilos of thermite, she still had the stun-pistols, and the sleep patches. Mind you, the patches and stunners only worked on humans.

And the Portal-projector.

She noted that this was the second to last day before the concert.

She went to the concert hall, to examine the equipment there.

[sroloc--elbisivni]

[ID: a collage of photos. Top is the first inch of a two-page vintage magazine spread; left features an advertisement reading ‘Enjoy the delights of exciting sexual union’, right reads ‘At Home With A Female Mimic.’ Other collage photos include various femme-presenting people. Most of photos are black and white; all are vintage. At center is a large text block reading “Female impersonators are highly specialized performers. The specialty is defined by the fact that its members are men who perform exclusively, or principally, in the social character of women. In order to create the female character, female impersonators always use some props which help to create the partial or complete visual appearance of a woman. The props can range from a string of beads superimposed on a man’s suit, to the full visual panoply of “femininity”: long hair (wig or own hair), “feminine” make-up and dress, “feminine” jewelry, bosom (false or hormone-induced) and high-heeled shoes.” At the bottom is a pink-tinted caption reading ‘You can’t tell the guys from the gals’ attached to a head with makeup and earrings.]

In the course of research I was doing last year, I fell down a rabbit hole of historic magazines curated by the Digital Transgender Archive. I assembled this collage, among others, using screenshots from issues of the American magazine Female Mimics. All of these photos were published between 1963 and 1968. The central text is from Mother Camp: Female Impersonators in America, which was an anthropological ethnography--a professional academic study of a culture--done by Esther Newton in the same time period.

I was fascinated by the existence of a magazine celebrating these performers. In modern terms (to pull a bit of ahistoricism in the name of connection) the magazine features a blend of people we would identify as drag queens and others who would probably best be described as transfeminine. They didn’t refer to themselves that way, and not all of those pictured wanted to identify as women outside of their work--although several did! There were trans women who explored their identities or raised money for surgery by working as impersonators, and used this magazine as a platform to openly promote themselves (two of the featured trans performers were open enough about their histories that I could learn they went on to live long and successful lives: Marie-Pierre Pruvot and Jacqueline Dufresnoy). Everyone who appeared in this magazine, whether as professionals seeking to advertise themselves or readers writing in to let the editors know how affirming they found this magazine, sometimes including pictures of themselves, was engaging in a transgressive act.

The magazines themselves were an engrossing read, even if some elements seem in poor taste today. For one example, Female Mimics was sold as an adult magazine, which meant most of the advertisements were explicitly sexual and colored the tone of the whole magazine--I ended up making another entire collage of just that aspect of it. For another, it’s very much an expression of 60s politics in other ways, with a 50/50 chance of finding the word ‘exotic’ applied to any featured performer of color. On the whole, it was a really excellent reminder that the past is neither a wonderland nor a wasteland of queer history, of people transgressing the boundaries of sexuality and gender.

There is extensive debate today on the nature of drag, especially drag where people who otherwise identify as men dress as women, and whether or not such drag is transphobic. I wanted to explore what that conversation looked like decades before the word “transgender” was coined and codified in various ways, and try to understand how gender non-conforming people with different needs and identification shared the space of this magazine. These magazines formed a network of affinity and recognition and validation for many people in an era that was often as hostile towards gender non-conformity as our own can be. I wanted to honor that, and make something that captured the nuance that I see as the beauty of queer and trans history.

[flamehairedwritings]

The Red Guardian

Characters: Alexei Shostakov/The Red Guardian x Tourist!Female Reader

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 3.3k

A/N: Wooops, I’ve accidentally been sitting on this for two months. OOPS. Enjoy!

Story tags: ‘90s Cuba, kind of opening scene of Black Widow spoilers, Alexei being Alexei, dirty talk, this is very much a pwp, semi-public, protected sex, using one another, one-night stand scenario, with a little bit of man-handling. Plus cunnilingus, fingering.

Summary: You just wanted a quiet drink... or did you really?

—

“... and I flipped it over like it was nothing, like it was just a page of a book!”

The occupants of the tiny, humid bar are unfazed by the Russian man’s ramblings, or maybe they’re just ignoring him, used to it.

He’s unfazed, too, though, by the seeming lack of interest, just carrying on as the bartender before him nods every now and then absent-mindedly while drying glasses.

“... ‘kaow’, ‘kaow’, ‘kaow’...” He mimics the sound of bullets as he mimes holding a gun, brow furrowed before his eyes widen as he lifts his hands. “... They were firing from all angles, enough to pin a normal man down, but I am no normal man. I took my gun and ‘bam’, ‘bam’, fired right back at them. And, behind me, my team had already gotten the plane ready and they were driving it down the runway, so what did I have to do? I ran…”

Inhaling a slow breath, you exhale it as you resist the urge to roll your eyes, your gaze flicking to the clock on the wall above the bar. He’s been talking since you arrived, which was nearly ten minutes ago, and you’re starting to wish you’d just had a drink in your hotel bar now.

Or just not left your room where there’s air conditioning and a mini-bar and quiet.

But, no, Bolu had made you go out even though she’d felt ill, to ‘soak up the culture and relax! Maybe fuck someone!’, though so far, you’re not getting much of the first two due to the rambling man.

And as for the last one… Phew, well… You’d see.

Just finish your drink then go for a walk then head back to the room. Done.

Sipping your drink, taking quite a few actually so that it’ll go down quicker, you let your gaze drift across the rows and rows of bottles behind the bartender, trying to see how many you recognise.

“Hey.”

Oh, no.

Swallowing your drink, you turn your head and find that, yep, the man has finally stopped talking, but now his attention is on you. Sitting three stools away, he has an easy, though touch leery, smile on his lips, and despite you having thought he was drunk, his eyes are bright and clear. He sits back, one arm resting on the bar top, the other on the back of the stool, and he’s dressed, like any other tourist here, in a white linen shirt that has a few buttons undone, and tan chinos. His brown hair was probably neat earlier today, but now it’s slightly bedraggled from the heat and where he’s probably run his hands through it, and there’s a light layer of stubble on his chin and jaw.

“... hey, excuse me,” he continues as your eyes meet his.

“Yeah?”

“Have you been stood up?”

Your eyebrows rise as you blink, your fingers playing with the straw in your glass. It’s a very impertinent question, maybe he is drunk. Or just an ass.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Ah, good.” His hand claps over his heart as his smile widens. “Otherwise it would’ve been a crime that I would’ve had to report.”

Here we go.

“Oh, right.”

“Because you are a very beautiful woman.”

There it is.

“Yep, thank you.”

Returning your gaze and attention to the bottles, you take a long sip of your drink, though you know from experience he’s not going to take the hint.

Instead of hearing his voice again, though, you hear his stool scrape back at a teeth-jarring frequency, the sound of his shoes, then the stool beside you being pulled back. He settles into it with a light sigh, and from the corner of your eye, you watch him signal the bartender for another drink.

“Can I get you something?” he asks, turning his head towards you and lowering his voice in a way that he probably thinks is seductive.

And, bizarrely, it is; his deep voice sends a light thrill down your spine, but when hasn’t a deep voice done that to you? You’re easily able to ignore it, tilting your head away as you shake it.

“No, thanks.”

“Are you sure? Back in my country, it’s quite something to have a drink bought for you by me.”

“I’m sure it is.”

He laughs, sitting back with such an air of arrogance that you almost want to ask him why that is.

Almost.

“So, tell me, beautiful lady,” he continues as the bartender pours his drink into a fresh glass, “Why are you here all alone? I can’t imagine why.”

“I just am.” You don’t know why you’re entertaining this, you could easily just walk away, your hotel’s only around the corner.

You know why, a voice that sounds a lot like Bolu’s whispers to you.

Shut up.

Because he’s attractive.

… Ugh.

Yes, fine, that’s why you’re entertaining it. In a strange, rugged, arrogant, irritating way, yes, he is.

And it’s with a resigned, internal sigh that you realise you’re probably going to fuck him.

The man tuts as his long, thick fingers wrap around his glass. “What a shame that is. From your accent I gather you’re on vacation, yes?”

Exhaling a breath, you sit back in your own chair and look at him, and he gives you that same, lazy, arrogant smile; almost as if he knows how this will end, too.

“I gather from yours you are as well.”

He chuckles, shrugging. “You could say that, yes.”

You don’t care about whatever the hell that means. “How long are you staying?”

He shrugs again as his fingers stroke over his jaw, his gaze lingering on yours. “Few days, maybe more. You?”

Your arms fold across your chest. “I leave tomorrow.”

It’s a lie, but there’s no need to start a holiday romance right now.

He drains his drink in one as his gaze sweeps up and down you in a wholly unsubtle manner. “Well,” he murmurs after swallowing, “We’d better celebrate your last night, huh?”

—

You don’t make it to your hotel.

Not that you actually really have much of a choice in the matter because the moment you step out of the bar he grabs your hand and leads you to the alleyway by the side of it.

That’s fine. You don’t really want him knowing where you’re staying, anyway.

Glancing over your shoulder at the empty street behind you as he pulls you along, the moment your head turns back to him you find he’s suddenly stopped and his hands cup your face, holding you steady as he leans down and seizes your lips in a firm, fierce kiss.

It’s a surprisingly good kiss, and any kind of doubt you’d had about this slips away. Besides, you’re going to give as good as you get.

Dropping your bag to the ground, your hands settle on his sides, gripping at his shirt as you hum against his lips. He groans in response, one arm moving to settle around your lower back, and, oh, you know you’re going to enjoy this, as annoying as he seems to be.

Pushing him backwards as you keep your grip on him, he groans again as his back collides against the wall, a large garbage bin now obscuring you both from the street.

“Mmh…” he rumbles, his hands gliding down your back and gripping your ass before sliding up again. “... Yes, I knew you would be a feisty woman…”

“Shut up...” you mumble against his lips, your fingers now unbuttoning the rest of his shirt to reveal the rest of his chest.

He chuckles lowly as you splay your fingers across his bare chest, feeling the hair there. “Mmh, no, I like it…”

His hands grip your ass again, pulling you hard against him, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you at feeling his cock straining against his trousers. 

“Yes…” he growls, before stooping and slipping his hands under the skirt of your dress. Sliding them up the backs of your bare legs, he bites and sucks at your lower lip, groaning. “... Mmh, I want to taste you… Feel you wet on my lips…”

“Who says I’m wet…” you murmur, his arrogance constantly teetering on irritating, but he just laughs, a hand sliding around across your stomach and dipping down between your legs.

“Oh, she likes to tease, does she…” He laughs again as you moan suddenly at the feel of his fingers dragging up your damp panties, the sound low and triumphant. “... I think that you are…”

“Just shut up and touch me.”

“With pleasure.”

Kissing you hungrily, his fingers slip inside your panties with no grace at all but you don’t care one bit because he instantly starts to circle your swollen clit, his fingers dipping down momentarily to gather your wetness before continuing to circle.

Your mouth drops open, a long, breathy moan slipping out, and your eyes fall shut. Fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Which somehow makes this all the more irritating.

You’d envisaged this as being just a quick, half decent fuck to blow off some steam, but with the way his thumb is circling, and two of his thick fingers are gliding through your slick lips…

Moaning again, you’re about to try and find his lips to kiss him again, when he straightens momentarily to his full height, which you realise is very tall, and his free hand moves to the back of your head, cupping it as he stoops again and his lips descend upon your neck.

This man can’t seem to do anything gently, which is perfect. He sucks and bites and licks at your skin, and you know there’s going to be marks but right now you don’t care, especially as he pushes one of those long, thick fingers inside you and you have to bite down hard on your lower lip to stop that loud moan that wants to escape.

You feel his smile as his mouth trails down to your chest.

“Do you like that, you beautiful woman… Yes… So wet and tight for me, fuck... Let me see those tits, I want to suck on them…”

His hand moves from the back of your head to a strap of your dress and bra, yanking them both down your shoulder together, before doing the same with the other. Your breasts sit pert and high now from how the neck-line of your dress sits, and he goes straight for a hard, peaked nipple, sucking and licking at it.

You have to bite hard at your lower lip again, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure thrums through your body. A live band starts up somewhere, possibly in the bar you’d both been in, and it’s loud enough that you can exhale a louder moan without worrying if someone on the street might hear.

Not that you actually care much about that right now.

Especially as he doesn’t seem to care at all with the words that are pouring out of his mouth.

“... Mmh, so good… Gorgeous, gorgeous fucking woman… Do you like that, hm? Do you like feeling my fingers inside you, stroking you just like this… Yeess…” he hisses as he draws a sharp moan from you after pushing a second finger inside you, his thumb swiping up and down over your clit in time with his thrusting fingers.

Part of you thinks he’s doing this more for his own ego and pleasure than yours, but you don’t really give a fuck because it feels fucking good regardless.

His wet mouth moves to your other nipple, and your back arches into him, your head tipping back.

“Mmh, fu-uck…”

“Yeess…” he groans again, but you block him out, just focusing on his mouth and fingers as they push you towards your orgasm, your fingers gripping at him as heat surges in your lower stomach.

And then he stops.

“What—”

Just as your eyes snap open, he suddenly spins you, turning you both and pressing your front against the wall.

You release a small sound as your cheek and breasts rest against the surprisingly cool wall, and he presses a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your other cheek, growling in the back of his throat.

“If you’re going to cum, I’m going to feel it on my cock…” he gravels, and, oh… maybe you can continue listening to him talk.

He kisses at your jaw and neck as his hands fist your dress. He pulls it right up over your ass, where his fingers then slide over your hips and yanks them back, making you lean forward, now just your cheek and chest pressed against the wall.

“Do you have protection?” he murmurs against your skin, not pausing his kisses.

Annoying, that he asked it before you.

“Yeah, in my bag,” you reply, and, oh, you wish your voice hadn’t sounded so breathy.

“Good.” Kissing your shoulder, his fingers tighten on your hips for a moment. “Stay right here, do not move.”

For fuck’s sake, that makes your lower stomach clench as you resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You know you’re dripping wet at those words alone, so thank fuck he doesn’t have his hands on you to gloat about it.

You watch him step away in your peripheral vision, and hear him lift your bag, unzipping it and rifling through. By the sounds of it, he’s letting a few items just drop to the ground which makes you want to tut, but what did you expect?

Then, you do tut as you hear him drop your bag to the ground, but it’s swifty followed by the sound of his belt unbuckling and a condom packet opening, and your irritation instantly vanishes.

“Look at you…” he murmurs, and your teeth drag over your lower lip, expecting to feel the head of his cock.

Instead, though, you feel something warm and wet.

Your eyes fall shut once more as you feel his tongue lick a long and slow path up your pussy, and he groans into you.

“Fuckin’ perfect…” He adds something else in Russian, something mumbled, and his voice vibrates against your slick lips.

“Fuck…” you breathe, pushing your ass back against him, and he grips your hips again, holding you in place as he laps at you.

It seems like just as he starts, he stops, though, rising to his feet and towering over you again.

His hands remain on your hips, his mouth by your ear as he murmurs, “Mmh, I could feast on you for fucking hours, but I want to feel you on my cock, I want to feel you…”

“Fuck me, then…” you hiss, and he laughs.

“Yes, you want me so bad, don’t you, you want my cock…”

You still don’t feel his cock, though, and you push your ass back against him, a huff escaping you. “Fuck me…”

“So needy…” You’re about to snap back when he presses a kiss under your ear and whispers, “... Tell me you want my cock…”

Damn him.

Reaching a hand back, you glide your fingers up his neck until you reach his hair, twisting your fingers in as you turn your head towards him.

Your lips brush against his as you murmur, “I want your cock inside me.” 

A deep groan escapes him, and just as he nips at your lower lip, he pushes his cock into you.

He’s slow, letting you feel every thick inch of him, and your eyes nearly roll back as they close.

“Oh, fuck… Oh…” you breathe, your back arching and fingers tightening on his hair, and his hands keep your hips pulled back against him.

“Yesss... Take the Red Guardian’s cock…” he growls, biting and sucking at your neck.

Is that what he calls himself? Oh, God…

You don’t have a chance to think on it further, though, as he draws his hips back and snaps them forward, and does it again, and again, and again…

You have to fight hard to keep your moans from echoing down the alleyway as he fucks you hard and fast.

He mumbles and groans things into your ear, his accent becoming more pronounced, some Russian words slipping in here and there, but you just focus on how fucking good it feels.

He’s chasing after his own orgasm, his earlier words of wanting to feel you cum on his cock maybe just for show, but you don’t fucking care. It’s fast and hard and brutal and good and you’re going to cum soon.

Maybe you murmur it or maybe he feels it, because he laughs harshly against your ear. “Yes… Yes, yes, yes… Cum, I can feel you… Cum on the Red Guardian’s thick cock… Take it…”

Needing something to grip onto, your grip tightens on his hair, which he seems to like, laughing again, though it soon morphs into grunts.

“Yes… Fuck…”

Biting down on your lower lip, your moans increase in pitch as your back arches. You can feel your orgasm coming, surging towards you, and it’s all you want.

When it finally crashes down on you, you almost forget he’s there, until his hand claps over your mouth to muffle your most likely loud moans. All you can do is press back against him and groan into his palm, waves and waves of pleasure washing over you.

And he just fucks you through it, not stopping, unrelenting, grunting and cursing in Russian into your ear, whispering what may be sweet nothings but you can’t understand them.

You’re just starting to come down from your high when his thrusts start to stutter, and then he thrusts into you once more, and stills, a prolonged, low moan ripped from him as he cums. He buries his face into your neck to try and quieten himself, and you let him, your hand on his hair holding him there.

Then, all is quiet as he just breathes against your neck and you breathe into his hand.

The music continues, and no one calls down the alley to you.

You’re content to just stand there for a few more moments to just catch your breath, when he laughs, and releases a low whistle.

“Holy shit… You’re fuckin’ good.”

Aaaaand we’re done now.

Pulling his hand down from your mouth, you raise your eyebrows as you nudge him away with your elbow. “Same to you.”

He pulls out, and you lick your lips, managing to stifle the soft sound that would usually invoke from you, and turn from him, adjusting your dress and settling everything back in its place.

Moving away, you pick up your bag and stuff the items that he’d thrown out back into it, trying not to cringe as he whistles again.

“... Holy shit… Very good.”

It had been good, but you’re not looking to get attached, so...

I wonder if Bolu will want ice cream, I want ice cream now. I wonder if the hotel has any—                                                                                                          

“So, what’s your name?”

Oh, no.

Glancing up at him, you give him a brief smile. “It doesn’t really matter, does it.”

He chuckles, leaning against the wall while he tucks his cock back into his trousers. You have no idea where he’s thrown the condom, and you don’t care to look.

“No, I suppose not. Well, if you’re ever in Cuba again—”

Straightening, you smile again. “Oh, I won’t be. Thanks for this, bye.”

Turning, you stride down the alleyway, listening to his chuckle echo down it.

“Well, goodbye, beautiful woman. I hope our paths do cross again!”

You almost smile as you step back out onto the street, safe in the knowledge that you’re never going to see him again. 

Ever. 

Never.

—

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Masterlist

Tagged: @herb-welch, @clonecaptainrex @davidkharboursex, @jobean12-blog, @warmbeardsandredwine, @mademoiselle-black, @scrunchinn, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @divadinag, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @deepsouth, @neganslittlebae, @ashphoenix105, @alahmorah, @daughterofthebrowncoats, @letsby,  @kiwiphroot, @ashmely, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @unicornsandgliiitter, @lucifer-in-leather,  @heyjudeinthesky, @sleepylunarwolf, @ambeazyyy, @countryfire22, @sithlordslut, @mondsafari,  @norcula, @earinafae, @beltzboys2015-blog, @jinxiejenna, @justsimplevicky, @hellosupernaturaldoctor, @ginasellsbooks, @dwarvenbunnyears, @vale0413, @mrslydiaholden, @kimberliinabox, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @allylupin, @cant-shake-this-feeling-off, @the-bitch-gotham-deserves, @warriorqueen1991, @thesurestthing, @zuni21798,  @quietlovelovely-blog​, @maddieisaboredable, @windinyoursnail, @happy-hopper, @yedi16, @negansdirtygirl22, @slipperywhenwetsstuff, @my-rosegold-soul @madkskillz, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @sergeantangel, @bitchinsinclair, @dewy-biitch, @focusonspn, @wearethebrokenones, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @thatprettymvthafvcka, @pulplorrd, @gifsbysimplysonia, @opalsandlacemain @geordiequeen, @gothackedalready, @ayatimascd, @missaudreyhorney, @chiefharbour, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @saltandroot, @ollypopp @soyuncheez

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[tf2workbench]

Re-enforced

The Enforcer is a particularly uninspiring weapon, only gaining its main benefit if you fire while disguised. It’s a cool trick, but it really lacks depth and nuance. But it has a second attribute, the ability to pierce resistance shields. This is... also mostly useless. Let’s see if we can do something with it.

For clarity’s sake, the following items count as “resistance shields” for piercing: Vaccinator bullet resistance, Wrangler shields, Natascha/Brass Beast below-half-health shielding, Battalion’s Backup boost, and cloaked Spy damage resistance. That doesn’t make for very many situations in which the Enforcer is useful. We’ll have to come up with something that’s a little more applicable to general play.

My immediate idea is to give the Enforcer the ability to pierce sentries’ innate damage resistance. While being sapped, sentries take 33% less damage from the revolver of the Spy who sapped it, making it a little harder to dispose of them if you’re alone. But reducing that penalty mainly serves to make the Spy’s job easier and the Engineer’s job harder; it isn’t really a new way to play. Let’s step away from the “armor-piercing” attribute for a moment.

Enforcer Iteration 2 (+) +100% damage against the player you’re disguised as (-) -20% firing speed (-) +0.3 seconds taken to disguise (-) No random critical hits

“Hey, that person looks like me. They’re stylish! Wait, that is me!” But too late, you’re dead. This Enforcer deals up to 120 damage if fired at close range, but you’re only good for one boosted shot before you lose the disguise.

This iteration brings some cool new tricks to the Spy, making you place a little more focus on your disguise. It could certainly be underpowered if dealing with vigilant players (especially those with fancy, fancy, recognizable hats), which is a concern; but I would argue that it’s mainly weak in ways the Spy already is, and moreover, that no player can always be vigilant in all directions. That’s when good Spies strike, and this weapon is no exception. But let’s try a different tack.

Enforcer Iteration 3 (+) Can fire while disguised to mimic firing action of the class you’re disguised as (-) Shots while disguised deal no damage (-) -20% firing speed

I’m normally very leery of any weapon that allows you to maintain your disguise while attacking, because it’s confusing for the target and eliminates some of the risk of making that attack. But in this case, I’m interested in using it - damage-free, of course - as an acting tactic.

Note that this only effectively copies bullet and melee weapons; it can’t very well conjure an illusory rocket if you’re disguised as a Soldier. But it’s an additional mechanic that you can play with, and that’s good.

My concern is that this weapon might make the enemy team too paranoid. Ordinarily, disguised Spies conspicuously don’t fire their weapons, kind of just standing there. The presence of this revolver demands that you check a firing teammate - just in case. I think that’s a bit much to have to deal with.

And for the Spy using it, your fun may be cut short against a team that’s prepared for this revolver. As with anything involving the disguise, your experience depends a lot on who you’re facing, even if you play well. So, while it’s interesting, there are some games where you just can’t use this Enforcer as is.

Let’s shift gears a little bit, returning - sort of - to the Enforcer as a general-purpose gun.

Enforcer Iteration 4 (+) Deals damage to players connected by healing beams (-) -20% firing speed (-) No random critical hits

To expand the utility of this weapon and of the Third Degree, I’d recommend that Dispensers also count as healing beams, allowing you to inflict serious damage on folks who are clustered around one. Additionally, as it currently works, damage won’t transfer from a Medic who’s Amputator taunting to their patients - but it will transfer the other way. Huh.

Anyway, this gun gives you some fun tricks to play on enemy Medics and Engineers, hitting them when they should be safe and secure. You can’t deal a ton of damage to them, especially once their heal target comes after you, but you can pick off weakened ones.

Honestly, I don’t think this would see a lot of use compared to, say, the general utility of the Ambassador or Diamondback. And, while it’s mildly interesting for its user, it serves to make certain classes’ jobs harder with little counterplay available.

Conclusion Of course, there are many other ways you could take the Enforcer, building off of either, both, or none of its current attributes. But right now, I’m most comfortable with the first one I made (damage bonus vs disguise target) - although I’d very much like to see how the second one (mimic firing action) might affect the mindset of the enemy team. Which one would you pick? Would you do something else entirely?

[fluffnstuffjojos]

Fluffnstuffjojos Masterlist

Started: 05.27.20 Last Updated: 5.29.20 Total Number of Works: 314 

**Notes: If you are sending requests, please make sure to read the rules first. There are characters within the masterlist for which I do not currently write for.

**ITALICS LINKS ARE NSFW OR BORDERLINE** 

Jojo Combo Posts (All Jojos or Multiple Jojos):

**Note these fluctuate between being everyone and only the ones I currently write for based on the date they were written! A mess! I may reorganize some day, but for now, feel free to browse! Mix of headcanons/scenarios 

Longest morning routines 

Thoughts on horror movies

Disney Princes/Princesses

Peppering Josuke/Giorno with Morning Kissies

Facetime Headcanons

Getting Postcards from Traveling s/o

Rainy Day Headcanons

Social Media Headcanons

Modern College Headcanons

Dancing to Smashing Pumpkins (Suggestive NSFW)

Incorporating s/o into Workout Routine 

Josuke and Joots s/o with a stand that manifests while they’re asleep

Falling for a drifter

Jotaro/Josuke/Johnny Reacting to Affectionate s/o

S/o with chronic Nosebleeds

Duckling Imprinting

Joseph/Giorno/Jolyne Insecure s/o

Autistic s/o who hates loud noises/crowds 

Jonathan/Joseph/Jotaro/Josuke Flexing to Impress s/o 

Reacting to a cheating s/o

Butt squeezes

S/o has no sense of direction

Male s/o in a wheelchair 

Talented Baker teaches Jojos how to bake

Reacting to s/o placing a flower crown on their head

Missing and/or trapped s/o

Reacting to s/o getting a grill 

Playing with s/o’s hair as they fall asleep

S/o appreciating Jojo’s bodies 

S/o doing their makeup 

Types of Youtube Channels

S/o decking a trash-talker 

Rescuing s/o who is the “damsel in distress” type 

Reacting to s/o biting them 

Distracting s/o before hitting someone (Gappy style) 

Jotaro/Josuke reacting to s/o blacking out/hitting their head 

S/o who wears crop tops

Wearing Jojo’s clothes and mocking them/posing playfully 

S/o dies, but they are unable to find their body

Crushing on the same gender

How they feel about s/o calling them “Jojo” 

Cop Josuke hunts Mafia Giorno

3-8 comforting s/o with their stand

Jojo Hugs 

Playing dead to prank/scare s/o 

Vines/fave videos  

Indulging in fashion with s/o 

Great-Grandpa Jonathan with kid Josuke 

Contortionist s/o 

Jotaro/Gappy/Josuke s/o kidnapped by enemy stand user 

Fave memes

Serenading their  s/o 

S/o dying without them being able to say goodbye 

catching s/o after they fall 

S/o makes homemade Valentine’s Day chocolate 

Spoiling s/o on Valentine’s Day 

Self-conscious, chubby trans man s/o

Absent Father Comfort 

Giorno/Josuke/Jolyne insomniac s/o 

Taking care of s/o on their period 

Helping trans s/o into their binder

Jotaro/Josuke - s/o dresses like a sukeban/female delinquent  

Boys finding out the girl they’re flirting with is into girls  

Jotaro/Johnny/Gappy s/o steals their hat 

Playfighting with s/o

S/o playing with their hair 

S/o with mental illness(es) 

Squeezing Jojo bobbies (the original is linked here too!) 

Onesies (original is linked as well!) 

Androgynous GF 

Jonathan raising Joseph 

Jotaro/Johnny mute s/o

Joseph Raising Josuke 

1-4 + Johnny strong/small s/o 

Jonathan/Jotaro/Johnny s/o with anger issues 

Danger-seeking s/o 

Clothes stealing s/o 

S/o has a destructive/intimidating stand 

Getting s/o in the mood (nsfw-ish) 

Assorted Character Combos Grab Bag 

Johnny/Diego/Gappy Confessions Headcanons

Jotaro/Jonathan/Polnareff Painful Period Comfort Scenarios

Jotaro/Kakyoin/Polnareff/Josuke s/o talking in their sleep

Kakyoin/Polnareff/Rohan/Gyro S/o with narcolepsy 

Josuke/Jolyne/Rohan coaxing depressed s/o out of bed

Jotaro/Gyro/Rohan cheering up sad s/o 

Josuke/Giorno/Polnareff 20 Nugget Challenge

Jotaro/Polnareff/Josuke/Okuyasu Slow Dancing with s/o

Jotaro/Polnareff/Josuke/Okuyasu crush suffering from Hanahaki disease

Johnny/Gyro/Jotaro with a s/o who is a saddle bronc rider 

Jonathan/Caesar cuddles/fluff

Caesar and Gappy s/o fears rejection when requesting affection

Jotaro/Josuke - s/o telling him they’re pregnant 

Jonathan/Kakyoin - s/o hates their body 

Female friend asks Josuke/Polnareff for advice on flirting with women

Dio and Jolyne trans s/o 

Jotaro, Polnareff, Josuke, Okuyasu saving s/o from an enemy stand

Jotaro/Joseph/Dio with beautiful s/o 

Jonathan/Josuke/Kakyoin comforting lonely/stressed out s/o 

Okuyaus/Polnareff/Caesar/Jotaro Powderpuff GF 

Jonathan/Dio/Johnny/Gyro first “I love you” from s/o 

Jotaro/Kakyoin/Josuke/Okuyasu motivating s/o to work 

Jonathan/Part 4 Squad being protective

Caesar/Okuyasu/Josuke/Dio Taking s/o shopping 

Jobros Mario kart 

Jonathan/Josuke/Okuyasu/Kakyoin Comfort

Caesar/Polnareff/Josuke/Okuyasu winning the lottery

Jonathan/Josuke/Okuyasu/Polnareff musical roles 

Jotaro/Josuke/Okuyasu kickboxing s/o 

Jonathan holiday headcanons & Okuyasu sex headcanons

Jotaro/Kakyoin/Josuke/Okuyasu Sports/clubs 

Jotaro/Kakyoin/Josuke/Okuyasu with s/o who just applied for college 

“You’re safe now, I’ve got you” Polnareff/Jonathan

“Hey! I was going to eat that!” Joseph/Okuyasu

Cakes for Jonathan/Josuke/Okuyasu/Gyro

Part 1: 

Dio trying to steal/win s/o from Jonathan

Jonathan Joestar

Headcanons: 

Starting a relationship with someone outside of the aristocracy 

Modern headcanons! 

Father and Husband Headcanons

Descendants 

Ghost Jonathan watching over loved one 

Date at the Opera

Scenarios:

Forever and Always (Jonathan contracts Vampirism and s/o vows to stay with him)

Valentine’s Day  

My Immortal  (immortal Jonathan finds his soulmate) 

Happy Honeymoon

Dio Brando:

Headcanons:

Using Rich BOI™ tactics to woo shy s/o 

“Pillarman” s/o who loves being superior/intimidating to him 

Scenarios:

Rather Harshly (Post-snapping at s/o comfort)

Impeccable Tastes (Dio has to feed from s/o) 

A Sense of Belonging (Jealous/Possessive Dio)

Part 2: 

Joseph/Caesar with a fellow Hamon user who is laidback and silly 

Poly Caesar/Joseph swing dancing with s/o

Joseph Joestar:

Headcanons:

Reacting to Holly’s Wedding 

Raising Holly 

Scenarios:

Fierce Protector (Protecting s/o from a BUG) 

Indifferent (Chasing a girl who isn’t Interested)

Caesar Zeppeli:

Scenarios:

“What’s wrong, darling?”  (comforts s/o with depressive episodes (feat. my bad art))

Direct Instruction (S/o teaching him how to play violin)

Part 3: 

Dio and Jotaro Fluff 

Polnareff/Kakyoin Comforting stressed s/o

Poly Jotaro/Kakyoin Comatose S/o post Dio Nonsense™ 

Poly Jotakak Valentine’s Day

Jotaro Kujo: 

Headcanons:

Comforting Anxious/Stresses s/o

Cheating on his s/o (ANGST)

BFF Headcanons

S/o who gets upset when he raises his voice 

Joots being CUTE 

Crushing on a himedere girl 

Tranquil/gentle s/o 

NSFW Joots (Obvi NSFW) 

Mothering s/o taking care of Part 4 squad = Jealous Joots 

small gf 

Jewelry headcanons

Singing in the shower

Pastel s/o

Scenarios:

Forgiveness (Post-Argument Fluff)

Toxic Behavior (Crush is Leery of how Joots treats Women)

Tidepool Gatherings  (Meeting a Mermaid)

Maritime Fun (Boat trip with s/o)

Just Breathe (s/o teaches Joot how to use hamon)

Joots Jr.  (Super smart s/o makes a robot)

The Shape of Water (Joots meets a fishy person) 

Homemade (Homemade birthday cake & kissy) 

Introductions (Jotaro introducing s/o to Part 4 squad) 

Cop a Feel (Accidentally grabs a boobie while helping)

No Place like Home (Takes stand user s/o home after they’re injured) 

Past Scars (Self-Harm Scars Fluff)

“You look so cute when you pout like that”

A Joestar to Die for  (Zeppeli descendant gives their life for Joots)

A Joestar to Die for Aftermath  (Joots loses his cool)

Kakyoin Noriaki:

Headcanons:

s/o appreciating him 

cute relationship headcanons (plus my cursed art)

Fluff headcanons

Scenarios:

Firsts (Male s/o First Kiss)

Spelling Trouble (Honors student Kak falls for delinquent school girl)

Spoiled Rotten Spoiling s/o on Valentine’s Day 

Need a... Dad? s/o is a single mother 

Jean Pierre Polnareff:

Headcanons:

Part 3 and 5 Fluff 

Himedere GF with a hidden vulnerable/lonely side 

Giving s/o a tour of Paris

Part 4: 

Oku seeing Josuke without his hair up for the first time 

Josuke and Okuyasu New Year’s Kisses 

WHOMST is Josuke/Okuyasu checking out with binoculars in the header???

Josuke and Okuyasu antics 

Poly Josuyasu taking care of sick s/o

Josuke/Okuyasu with a s/o who always steals their clothes 

Part 4 Squad with a non-verbal/reserved crush

Part 4 Squad Music Tastes & Bonus oldie but goodie 

Vacations with the boys! 

Boys in a band! 

Famous boys 

Josuke/Okuyasu being Hayato’s big bros 

Boys as firemen

Secret Santa 

Josuke/Okuyasu future careers/relationships/families

Josuke/Okuyasu sharing a crush who likes them both 

Josuke/Okuyasu sharing a crush poly relationship (cont. from original) 

Josuke and Rohan Comforting s/o during a rough time

Part 4 Crew Ideal S/o

Poly Josuyasu and s/o with Mario Party 

Poly Josuyasu with severely injured s/o

Josuke/Josuke’s gf/Okuyasu as a Ron, Hermoine, and Harry trio

Josuke Higashikata:

Headcanons:

Werewolf Josuke and Female s/o

Male Crush

Childhood Friend Mutual Pining

Soulmate AU 

Protecting s/o from catcaller(s) 

Helping/keeping s/o company while their mom is in the hospital

Mutual pining shy crush 

Rural s/o is baffled by Morioh 

Twin Sister

Scenarios:

Waiting Up (Josuke has a late night and you wait on him) 

Hiding a Part of You  (Discovering s/o has a secret stand)

Sting of Betrayal (Forgiving s/o for Betrayal)

“For your eyes only..” (Josuke gets a text (NSFW-ish)

Star Crush Mario Party Confessions with Crush 

Tentative (Hesitant to makeout and ruin the romance)

Missing Something (Comforting s/o grieving a sibling)

Make it all Better (Bad day comfort)

Got Moves (Dancing with a boi)

Mornings Like These (Josuke Fluff)

Taste of your own Medicine (s/o mimics his pomp with their own hair)

Deeper Pain (Can’t protect s/o from grief)

Sound of your Voice (Reading to s/o)

Soft Boy (S/o teasing “delinquent” Josuke for being a big ol’ softie)

"Breathe with me” (Anxiety comfort)

Romance Kinda Guy (First Valentine’s Day date) 

“I had a nightmare” 

Batter Up! (Softball/baseball gf)

Dog Hair (Corgi antics)

Little Helper (Tries to win his ex-wife back with their kid’s help)  

Bloodlines (Crush is Caesar’s grandchild)

Christmas Tree Murder (Josuke knocks over the tree) 

Sunshine (Helping s/o fall asleep after a bad day)

Disinterested (Falling for someone who isn’t interested back) 

Single Father (s/o dies and Josuke raises their daughter) 

Feline Overlord (Cat Hates Josuke) 

“I’m not jealous” 

“You can’t keep doing this.”

“This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done” 

PS2 Squared (s/o and Josuke have similar gift ideas) 

Okuyasu Nijimura:

Headcanons:

Foreign s/o 

Wedding/Honeymoon 

Proposal Headcanons

Sweet/shy s/o 

Clingy Oku 

Driving, hugging, anger headcanons

Scenarios:

Getting a Kitten

Fluffy Morning Lovin’ (NSFW AS HECK) 

“Yell, Scream, Cry” (Angst Prompt)

Baked Goods (Baking with the GF) 

Long-Distance (s/o Flies to Morioh to meet for the first time)

“You aren’t dumb, Oku,” (Comfort/fluff)

Fixer Upper (S/o and Oku fix up his house)

Love Letters (Flustered Oku gives male crush a love letter)

Valentine’s Day Korean BBQ 

Meeting the Fam (Bringing home s/o for the first time)

“You’re not falling behind,” 

Entrapment (Rescuing kidnapped s/o) 

“Come ‘ere” (Using his stand with GF (light suggestive nsfw))

Care (Taking care of hurt s/o)

Scatterbrained (So excited he forgets to respond to a confession)

Spirited (Ghost girlfriend )

“You can’t die”/”I’m not losing you again”/”Hold me back!” 

“I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot” 

Stray Cat Adventures 

Loss (Oku is Missing Keicho)

Rohan Kishibe:

Headcanons:

Flexible/athletic s/o 

Daddy Kink (NSFW) 

Blind s/o

Pianist s/o

Scenarios:

Unique (Comforting s/o insecure over their “cutesy” art)

First Valentine’s Day 

Transgressions (Getting a cat without his permission)

Valued (Receiving expensive gifts)

“It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion” 

Part 5: 

Giorno Giovanna:

Headcanons:

Reacting to a member of La Squadra defecting to join them 

Finding a former classmate is a member when he joins the gang 

Don Gio romancing an American Tourist

Raising Kids 

Scenarios:

Surprises (Finding out s/o is pregnant) 

Hanging On (Has twins, but one is in critical condition) 

Young Love (Falling for a younger Passione member) 

Part 6: 

Jolyne Kujo:

Scenarios:

“You look tired” 

Part 7: 

Drunk Johnny and Gyro Headcanons 

Johnny and Gyro on s/o’s birthday 

Gyro/Johnny Christmas/Holidays

Poly Johnny/Gyro/Diego convince s/o horses aren’t scary

Johnny and Diego trans boy Crush

Johnny Joestar:

Headcanons:

Valentine’s Day 

Kissing Headcanons

Scenarios:

Fall for You (Falling for female friend)

Left Behind (S/o leaving him for someone else) 

Jealous Type (Jealous over guys hitting on s/o)

Quality Time  (Fluffyness) 

“I could kiss you right now” 

Gyro Zeppeli:

Headcanons:

Fluff headcanons

Small/strong s/o 

S/o with chronic pain and in a wheelchair 

Scenarios:

Fatherhood (Finding out he’s going to be a dad)

Twists of Fate (Crushing on foreign executioner who hates him!)

Lady and the Tramp (Spaghetti Kiss)

Bundle of Nerves  (Nervous proposal)

Chance Encounter (Pretty Lady at the Bar)

Diego Brando:

Headcanons:

Petting and Feeding him ROCKS 

Show-rider crush

Having his boobies squeezed 

Scenarios:

Sharing is Caring (Sharing a bed with his crush)

It’s a Date (Dinner Date)

Thoughts of the Future (Dinner Date Proposal!!)

Part 8:

Poly Yasuho/Gappy

Gappy (Josuke) Higashikata:

Headcanons:

Falling for Female Crush

Soft spot headcanons

Scenarios:

Fatherhood (Finding out he’s going to be a dad)

[lihikainanea]

poor bill when tiger plays the porn he watches on the tv. he is about to bust within minutes but he’s also panicked, he’s so nervous and tiger hates that he’s like this. she wants him to enjoy this so she does something she hates but he loves: eye contact. she kneels before him, slowly jerking him and makes him look at her, she takes big breaths until he mimicks her. she starts to kiss at his neck.... I NEED MORE BILL AND TIGER WATCHING PORN

Poor Bill? Poor Bill is about to get his soul sucked out through his dick by his favourite gal who is decked out in a lingerie set that fulfills every single one of his kinks.

Poor Bill?!

Boo, he doin’ JUST FINE.

But I hear you. He’s all nervous isn’t he? Because like he said--he’s woke. He doesn’t want this to be offensive. He feels guilty. And tiger just thinks this is awesome, she thinks it’s the least offensive thing ever, because he’s always encouraging her to share her kinks and now she discovered something he likes and she wants to partake in that with him, and he’s getting all shy and awkward about it.

and then.

AND THEN.

SHE. DOES. SOMETHING. SHE. HATES. BUT. HE. LOVES.

Ya’ gone done killed me with that one. She absolutely makes him look at her while she kneels in front of him, and it’s hard for her but she focuses on holding his gaze. On staring back at him--just to let him know that she wants this, and that it’s OKAY for him to feel good about it. She wants him to. She wants him to know that she’s enjoying it too. She’ll mimic the breathing that he does for her when she’s spiralling--deep and slow, steady--and eventually she’ll take his hand, weave it through her hair. She wants this, and more than that, she wants him to feel good about it.

Bill is probably still a little leery, just a tad unconvinced, until she takes his hand and forcefully slides it between her legs--and when he feels how soaked she is? Then he can finally relax into it a bit.

[polturn]

What do leery mimics do when they possess you? Just goof off and make mischief because coyotes are tricksters? Or do they like kill you? And can it happen to like dogs or wolves? What happens if a coywolf gets struck? Also are there mime clown apes? K byeeeeee

Thanks for the questions!

They dont kill the people they possess. There really is no other intention behind it other than their own entertainment, curiosity, and yes mischief.

The Leerys mischievousness is a nod to the trickster coyote. I dont see it as something happening with another type of canid anyway, because I like that it being a coyote grounds the creature in the desert of north america. Theres an inspiration throughline of "altered states" in all the mimic designs and the Leerys possession of people is supposed to also be able to be read as a peyote trip.

The mimics series is mainly a character design exercise for me. (atm they dont have plot beyond their backstories)

The inspiration throughlines in all the mimic creature designs are: altered states of consciousness, folklore, human interactions with wild animals/nature (specifically fumbled or negative interactions), and mimes/clowns/harlequins (kinda random but whatever).

The mime part is kinda baked into the "mimic" concept, buuuuut I have wanted to design a species based off of the term "mimetolith".

Mimetoliths are an example of pareidolia, which is a type of apophenia (the tendency to perceive meaningful connections between unrelated things). Apophenia can be taken to the extreme where it could be listed as a symptom of schizophrenia. To me this fits into my altered states of conciousness inspiration. I also have ideas about rock stacking I wanted to work in...

ooooo u got me thinkin... might work on a new creature design tonight to add to the mimics

[etherealwaifgoddess]

A Good Night’s Sleep, Pt.1

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has been plagued with nightmares since he left HYDRA and the Avengers all have been trying to help him overcome them. Bucky meets you by chance on a coffee run and finds that the solution he was avoiding might be exactly what he needs.

Warnings/ Content: brief mention of PTSD

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! So this little 3 part series came from an idea that @marinaaniseed had a few weeks ago. I absolutely couldn’t get the idea out of my head and so, while I should have been working on my many WIPs, this little fic was born. Parts two and three are going up immediately after this, it’s all done and I don’t feel like dragging it out. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I have. Especially you @marinaaniseed, thank you so much for the idea!!! XOXO- Ash

A Good Night’s Sleep, Part One

“Come on, Buck.” Steve calls out while banging on Bucky’s door, “You gotta wake up, pal.”

Bucky wakes with a jolt, his body rigid and his throat sore from screaming. He’s panting hard, trying to adjust to the world around him. He pulls himself out of bed on shaky legs, wobbling down the hall to open the door right as Steve goes to knock again. “Sorry. Again.” he rasps. 

“Want to come get a cup of tea with me?” Steve offers with sympathetic eyes.

“Nah, I’m gonna grab a shower. Go back to sleep, Stevie.” 

“You know you can talk to me about it if you want to.” 

“I know. I’ll be okay.” Bucky insists, closing the door to end the discussion. 

Under the burning hot spray of the shower Bucky lets himself breakdown. 

After Wakanda Steve had convinced Tony to let him live at the tower with the rest of the team and everyone had been leery of the former assassin joining their ranks. As they slowly came to know him though, he became a welcome addition to their little family of Avengers. The only issue was the nightmares that woke not only Bucky, but everyone else on their floor. Bucky hadn’t slept through the night since he escaped HYDRA, plagued with visions of the destruction he’d wrought as the Winter Soldier. It was an endless stream of death and terror every night when he closed his eyes. When he was on his own in Romania he’d accepted it as his penance for what he’d done. After Shuri and her team pulled him out of Cryo in Wakanda he hadn’t been hopeful the nightmares were gone along with the trigger words. And he had been right - they persisted. 

Bucky warned Steve when he invited him to live at the tower with the team. He told him he had nightmares and was prone to have low days where he just needed solitude to work through his own mind. Steve had promised he’d have his own living quarters and the team would understand. They all had their demons, afterall. The team was very understanding the first days but after that the concerned glances turned to long, worried looks and the team started speaking up.

Bruce had been the first to speak up, suggesting therapy to help him work through what was causing his nightmares. Bucky went and as much as he liked his therapist, nothing they tried stopped the nightmares. Even the meds blew through his system too fast to be of any use. She did give him some good tips for managing his PTSD and depression during the day though, so Bucky considered it a win and still went to see her once a week. 

Nat gave him a spicy Russian tea she swore would knock him out enough that no dreams would come. Nat was wrong, all Bucky got out of the tea was heartburn. She grumbled something under her breath in Russian that sounded a lot like “cursed’ the next morning over breakfast. 

Steve took him for a long run before bed one night, thinking the endorphin high and exhaustion would help Bucky sleep soundly. It helped Steve sometimes with his own dreams of war. It didn’t help with the nightmares, it only made him more exhausted the next day after getting little sleep. 

Tony offered to get him drunk but it would take entirely too much alcohol to overcome the serum in his veins so he declined the offer. 

Wanda suggested she try popping in his mind while he was having a nightmare to see if she could reshape it and try to correct whatever in his mind was causing him to have the dreams. Bucky threw up at the idea of someone meddling in his mind again.

The care and suggestions from the team were sweet, and Bucky knows they have the best intentions at heart, but it’s all still a little overwhelming. Bucky wants to stop having nightmares, he would do anything to sleep for more than three or four hours a night. A small part of him still thinks it’s punishment from some higher power for everything he’s done, but rationally he understands it’s just his PTSD. 

After his shower, Bucky trudges out to the team kitchen for coffee. If he isn’t going to sleep he might as well start on his caffeine routine. Sam is already in the kitchen whipping up a smoothie for himself while Natasha stares at him over a cup of tea, the human embodiment of heart eyes on her face. 

“Mornin’.” he rumbles as he crosses the kitchen, rummaging for his favorite cup in the dishwasher. 

“Another bad one, huh.” Nat asks, but it really isn’t a question.

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“You’ve got to figure these out, James.” 

“I know it.” 

“I know what you need.” Sam interjects causing both Bucky and Nat to whip around to stare at him. Sam just shrugs, “You need to get laid, man.” 

Bucky chokes on his coffee. “What?” 

“You. Need. To. Get. Laid.” Sam repeats slowly. “Seriously, man. Find yourself a nice girl, or a guy, and get some. You’ll be all happy and cosy and you’ll nod right off. No nightmares if you’re wrapped up in the arms of a good woman, or man.” 

Bucky shakes his head, the last thing he needs is to terrorize some poor person trying to spend the night.

“It’s not a bad idea.” Nat agrees.

“Not happening.” Bucky says with a warning tone. He fills his cup and retreats to his bedroom, unwilling to continue the conversation. Adding another person to his mess of a life is not the solution. 

Sam’s suggestion spreads through the team like wildfire. Everyone seems to have a friend they could set him up with. Tony even hacks into his smartphone and adds apps for Tinder, Grindr, and Match.com. Bucky deletes them quickly before chewing Tony out about privacy rights. It becomes a bit of a running joke within the group and Bucky is less than thrilled about it. Bucky hasn’t had a date since 1941 and he isn’t sure how to navigate dating in the 21st century. He knows the times have changed, people are more free with their sexualities and casual relationships are normal instead of taboo. Eventually, he thinks, eventually he’ll get back out there. But certainly not just for the sake of random sex. 

Bucky has another particularly rough night. One where he doesn’t dare sleep because the second his eyes close the images start up like a motion picture. He’d spends the night alternating between pacing and reading, trying to not be disruptive while everyone else sleeps. Sam and Steve get up for their run just before dawn and find him pacing in the common room. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Steve asks him.

“I will later. Probably.” Bucky grumbles. 

Sam shakes his head, “Let’s go get coffee. You look like hell.”

Bucky can’t argue with that and instead goes to grab his shoes with a nod.

The city is bustling despite the early hour and the line at their favorite coffee shop is almost to the door. It’s worth the wait though and Bucky likes the thrumming energy of the shop, the blur of muted sounds around him oddly comforting. The woman in front of them is fidgeting with her leather bag, it must have something heavy in it the way she keeps adjusting the strap on her shoulder. Bucky tries not to let his gaze linger too long but the way her long hair falls in soft waves all the way down to the small of her back is distracting. The even softer looking rounded curves of her body are even more distracting, he admits to himself. She reminds him of the women in Renaissance paintings, when lush curves were still revered, before these modern stick thin bodies became the ideal. Bucky wishes the Winter Soldier could go back and pay a visit to whoever started the “thigh gap” craze. 

The woman adjusts the leather strap again and a small white card flutters out onto the floor behind her. Bucky reaches down to pick it up, noticing the card has business information on it. Sam and Steve are chatting and distracted when Bucky taps the woman on the shoulder, “I think you dropped your business card.” he says hesitantly. 

You’re cursing yourself for lugging everything along with you in your enormous bag when you feel a tap on your shoulder followed by a warm masculine voice. You absolutely do not have business cards, you’re a freelance writer and market yourself entirely online. It has to be another pick up line, probably from some smarmy Wall Street asshole who wants to slum it with an artsy girl for a change. You’ve been burned by that type enough times and won’t let yourself do it again, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve had a date. “Does that line work a lot for you?” you reply, turning around with an unamused expression. 

Bucky’s face falls, upset he’s offended you when all he was trying to do was return what you’d dropped. “I wasn’t. I don’t. You. Um, you dropped this. It fell out of your bag.” Bucky fumbles for words, blushing brightly and drawing the attention of Sam and Steve who wear twin smirks of amusement watching him flounder. 

Your irritation dissipates when you see the gorgeous, stuttering man in front of you. He’s tall, though not quite as tall as his companions, his dark hair falls around his shoulders in a way that is either true bedhead or carefully crafted styling to mimic it. His grey blue eyes are wide and honest, clearly not some smarmy pick up artist like you’d assumed. He’s wearing a black hoodie and dark grey sweatpants so it’s unlikely he was the business card type either. You force yourself to stop ogling the poor man and look at the tiny card in his outstretched hand. Recognizing it immediately, you realize you’re the asshole in this scenario. “Shit, that is mine.” you curse, “I’m so sorry. I don’t usually have business cards but my friend gave me this one yesterday for a new bakery that went in over on 2nd Avenue.” 

Bucky looks at the card for a second before you take it from him. “So you’re not Beth Yardley?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if that’s now a ploy to get your name. You really need to be less suspicious but after living in the city for five years you’ve become jaded. He’s cute though. “Nope, Y/N. Nice to meet you…?”

“Bucky.” he offers quickly.

The name doesn’t ring a bell, but he looks familiar for some reason. “Nice you meet you, Bucky. Thanks for saving that card for me. I’m dying to try these cinnamon buns my friend keeps raving about.”

Bucky is smiling again, hoping his face doesn’t betray how eager he is to keep the conversation going. He wasn’t trying to hit on you a few minutes ago but now that he’s seen your face and heard your voice, he sure as hell is. “I love cinnamon buns.” 

You stifle your laugh at the way his cheeks burn bright pink after his admission. He has to be flirting at this point. And he really is cute. Damnit. “We should go try them, then.” you decide, giving him a chance to make a move. 

Bucky feels like he’s swallowed his tongue, “As in, together?” 

“Yeah, sorry if I wasn’t clear. This is me hitting on you now.” you smirk at him as his blush spreads.

Sam is leaning on Steve as they fight for composure, trying not to erupt in laughter and ruin their friends moment. Bucky glares at their backs for a moment before realizing he still hasn’t answered, “Yeah. Yes. Let’s do that.” 

Getting a better look at his companions you realize why he looks so familiar. Of all the people to meet in a coffee shop, you muse. You’re still interested though. “Are you free after this? I was going to get my coffee to go and then head straight there for breakfast.” 

“I’m free. These idiots can find their own way home.” 

“Great. Now, the deciding factor is: icing or no icing? Think hard Bucky, there are two camps of people and if you fall into the wrong one I’ll be forced to shame you for all eternity.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen, worried he’s going to mess up two seconds into what could potentially be a date. “Icing?” he tries.

“Right answer!” you announce him happily. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, you whisper, “It wasn’t really a deal breaker but it’s good to know you’re not some sugar hating monster.” 

Bucky’s grin widens, “No, I have a serious sweet tooth.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine.” you assure him. 

After you order your coffee, quad shot latte with whole milk don’t judge me, and Bucky orders his, the biggest white mocha frapp you have please, you swipe your card before he has a chance to get his wallet out. Bucky balks at you paying but you tell him he can get it next time with a flirty smile that has his brain shutting off, unable to continue complaining. 

Steve and Sam give Bucky small waves and thumbs up, not interfering when Bucky leaves with you. “Your friends seem nice.” you say kindly as you step out onto the busy city sidewalk.

“They’re the best.” Bucky agrees with a nod. 

You make idle chit chat on your way to the bakery, keeping the topics light and superficial. Bucky tells you he grew up in Brooklyn, moved away for a bit, and recently moved to Manhattan with his friends. He seems hesitant as he explains it and you realize he’s trying to not be obvious about who he is. Like you couldn’t have already guessed.

You snort a laugh into your latte. “So what was Brooklyn like in the 30s?” you ask bluntly.

Bucky’s eyes practically bug out of his head, “How did you...?” 

You give him a half smile and shrug, “The hand is a good clue, plus your face was everywhere for a while. It doesn’t help that your best friends are Captain America and the Falcon.” 

Cringing, Bucky figures this will be the end of his almost date. “We don’t have to go get breakfast. I’ll understand if you don’t want to be seen with me.” 

You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, shocked by his response. “Whoa, hold on. I knew who you were before I asked you to join me. I don���t care what other people think about you or your past. You seem like a nice guy and I want to get to know you. The real you.” 

Bucky takes a moment to process your words, finding it hard to believe someone is willing to look beyond his past. He can't find a shred of deceit in your expression though, so he answers your question. “Well, there were less cars and it smelled worse if you can believe it.” 

You huff out a laugh, resuming your walk to the bakery. “I can’t. Tell me more.” 

Bucky tells you stories of the Brooklyn of his youth as you make your way across town. You aren’t in a hurry and Bucky is happy to spend extra time out in the warm sun with a beautiful woman. 

The bakery is a little glass fronted shop sandwiched between two larger brick buildings. You would have walked right past it if you hadn’t been looking for it. Bucky opens the door for you and you smirk, amused by the old fashioned gesture. The scent of vanilla and caramelized sugar hit you the second you’re inside. “Oh my god.” you groan the amazing smell. 

Bucky’s steps falter at the sound you made, trying desperately not to let his mind go where it was headed. “This place smells amazing.” he says, inhaling deeply.

“It had better taste as good as it smells or I’ll riot.” you joke. 

The line is short and before you know it, Bucky is ordering two iced cinnamon buns plus an assortment of other pastries he picks at random out of the display case. 

“Are we feeding an army?” you question as the tray piles higher and higher with plates of baked goods.

“Sorry,” he blushes, handing over his card to the waiting cashier, “Um, my metabolism is pretty high and I have to keep up with it or I get cranky.” 

“Ah, okay. No hangry super soldiers on my watch.” 

Bucky chuckles and nods. 

There’s a sunny spot in the window of the bakery with an unoccupied cafe table, Bucky motions towards it and it’s your turn to nod, following him over to it. The tray takes up most of the table and you perch your coffees on your respective sides, eager to dig into the spread in front of you. You go for the cinnamon bun first, knowing one of them is yours and not wanting to presume you’ll be trying any of the other treats. 

The taste of caramelized sugar and cinnamon explode on your tongue, eliciting yet another moan that makes Bucky fidget in his seat. “Okay, that’s it. I can die happy now.” you announce dramatically. 

Bucky takes a swipe of the icing off the top of his cinnamon bun and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh wow.” he lifts the entire bun up to take a large bite and closes his eyes happily as he chews. “This is incredible.” he says once he’s swallowed, quickly taking another large bite. His cheeks puff out adorably and you grin around your own bite of cinnamon bun. 

“I can’t believe you just bite it like that.” you tease. 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do with it?” 

You demonstrate the way you’ve been peeling yours apart from the outside in, “You uncoil it, like a normal human being.” 

“Takes too long.” Bucky scoffs, “My way is faster.” 

“But then it’s gone. My way you can enjoy it more.” 

“Pfft. I enjoy it plenty, and I would have time for two of them while you eat just one.” 

“Not all of us have super soldier metabolisms, one bun is enough.” 

Bucky looks at the four other plates on the tray and shakes his head, “Then I guess it’s good to be me.” 

You laugh at his antics as he takes another big bite, smiling while his cheeks chipmunk out again. The look you’re giving him almost makes him swallow wrong. He knows this look, he remembers it from the dance hall girls in the 30s. Attraction. Desire. You’re flirting with him in your own, unique, modern way. And Bucky is shocked to realize he’s been flirting back. He didn’t intend to get back out there so soon but here he is, enjoying breakfast with a beautiful woman. He wonders if you’re the type who would appreciate being asked out on a date, or if you’d rather exchange numbers and call him up when the mood strikes. A booty call, Sam had called it. Bucky still doesn’t get how there’s such a big difference between a booty call and a butt dial but thankfully Sam had corrected him when he got the reference wrong. 

Bucky finishes his cinnamon bun and starts in on a vanilla bean scone, enjoying the way the light glaze crackles as it gives way to the soft, buttery dough. You’re still enjoying your bun, about half way through, so Bucky tears the other pointed corner of the scone off and deposits it on your plate. “It’s really good.” he insists, not wanting you to miss out.

You glance from the bite of scone up to Bucky who’s looking at you hesitantly like he’s waiting to see if he’s done something right or wrong. You pop the bite of scone into your mouth, chewing slowly before nodding, “Yeah it is. Thanks.” 

Bucky practically beams. Maybe he can figure out 21st century flirting. He’s not sure if flirting via baked goods is a thing or not, but it absolutely should be. Bucky methodically works through all of the plates on the tray, offering you bits of each different item. You snag two bites of the cream puff but decline when he offers to buy you your own. The conversation shifts to the best meals you’ve had in the city. Food is an easy common ground for you both. You explain to Bucky that the small town you grew up in was pretty limited restaurant-wise and you’ve tried a lot of different places since moving to the city. You’re great in the kitchen but some days, after spending hours alone working at home, you like to get out and around other people for a while. 

“There’s an Italian place, Sapori, near the tower you would love.” Bucky tells you, “I don’t know what the big deal about the place is but Stark always gets reservations when we’re celebrating something. They make everything from scratch and it’s damn good. There’s these little pillowy pasta things. Starts with a g but you don’t pronounce it. I don’t know, but they’re amazing.”

“Gnocchi,” you say, stifling a laugh. 

“Yeah! Those. Best meal I’ve had in the city by far.” 

“That’s only because you haven’t had the food at Xián Tián.” 

“Well, you should let me take you to Sapori and then you’ll understand.” 

“Did you just ask me out?” you raise your eyebrows at him in surprise.

Bucky blushes and nods, suddenly feeling more shy. “Yeah. I did. This is me hitting on you now.” he says, paroting your words from earlier. 

“Well done, Barnes. When are we going?” 

Read part two HERE!

[irrfahrer]

AKFNSJSJSH I DARE YOU TO KISS ANAKIN LMAO

Send "I dare you to kiss..." with a url/name and my muse will have to kiss that person on the lips.

“I dare you to kiss the General, Fluffy!”, the Pilots voice was loud, yet it drowned in the loud buzzing of voices hanging int he canteen thick like a heavy blanket. They were sitting by one of the tables set by one of the walls, surrounded by othe people like by a ocean of voices and limbs in the by the time of the late evening well visited canteen. Zivs fluffy ears flicked and turned up towards the Pilot like the ears of a leery animal keeping track of a carnivore lurking around them, but if one was not used to the mimic of the Tynnans species and the fact that their ears were more a indicator of their feelings, she was for those unknowing eyes not reacting in the slightest. Instead of reacting properly or giving a single glance to General Skywalker sitting beside her, she only looked unimpressed over the edge of her teacup with uncomfortable red and uncomfortable inhuman eyes. Still there was a annoyed smile curling behind the cup around Zivs muzzle that looked more like a baring of teeth considering how she hated to be called ‘Fluffy’ or any other name of endearment: “Aha, so thats what rattles you Kriffers whiskers? Kriffing interesting!” “Well-”, caught offguard at something that was meant as a prank the pilots dark face turned as red as a old sun only moments away from dying and suddenly he stiffned as if he had been caught redhanded doing something forbidden. There was a second in which Ziv put down her teacup and the smile on her face became visible and also uncomfortable clearly carnivourus. Then the second ended and the young woman swiftly turned to the side, grabbed Anakins face between her small paws and pulled him down to kiss him. While the grasp on the mans face was harsh, one of her claws even slightly cutting in Anakins cheek, the kiss was gentle, soft, nothing but a soft silkveil pressed against his lips. Using the fact that the other had been pulled towards her, the Tynnan slided over to sit on his knee. Ziv was careful, as after all she had carnivorous teeth and was very aware that she much too easily could slice the others face to pieces if she would be careless. It was the reason the young woman loathed kissing. It was not that the Tynnan did not knew the cultural meaning of a kiss be it patonically or not- after all she had grown up safely and nurturing in the Jedi-Temple and was more than often kissed on the forehead and cheeks by the Créche-Masters that had raised her, and years later she had had been kissed in a romantic way by humanoids often enough. She did knew the cultural meaning and she liked the gesture as a sign of affection, thinking it was sweet like lovers entangling fingers was sweet to watch. It did not changed the fact that instead of relaxing and enjoying the gesture the Tynnan would always promptly stiffen or turn her face away as if she was expecting a danger and in fact it was a danger, although it was not a danger for her. Accordingly the young woman pulled back hasty, huffing, ears pinned back  tensely after she had messed enough with the poor Pilot on the other side of the tableplate.

With a sly grin that showed the razorlike sharpness of her carnivorous teeth in all their not so soothing glory and still sitting on the mans knees Ziv looked over her shoulder to the Pilot whos face was by now so red it seems just one second away from actually melting: “Okay, done! The General was kissed! Anything else I can do to indulge to your kriffing voyeurism, cub?” [ @sithdestined ]

[starsprinkledwaters]

Leerie’s Lantern 🕯️

A spell sachet to be used when you’re feeling lost in life--literally or metaphorically

Inspired by the song “Trip a Little Light Fantastic” from Mary Poppins Returns

“So when life is getting scary, be your own illuminary

Who can shine the light for all the world to see

As you trip a little light fantastic with me”

Ingredients needed: 

🕯️ A sachet (preferably dark blue or maroon)

🕯️ A pocket flashlight (that can fit in the sachet)

🕯️ Citrine (for brightness and positive energy)

🕯️ Tiger’s eye (for self-motivation and a warrior’s spirit)

🕯️ Selenite (for peace and enlightenment)

🕯️ Yellow glitter (for happiness and success)

🕯️ Orange glitter (for fun and intellectual matters)

🕯️ Gold glitter (for fast luck and a positive attitude)

🕯️ Something to play music on (it’s best to listen to the song while performing the spell)

Steps:

🕯️ Focus on your intent and whatever’s making you feel lost

🕯️ Place citrine, tiger’s eye, and selenite around the sachet in a triangular formation

🕯️ Place the flashlight on top of the sachet

🕯️ Focus on putting the energy from the crystals into the flashlight, charging it with positive energy

🕯️ Once ready, place the flashlight in the sachet and think/say, “A leerie loves the edge of night, though dim, to him the world is bright”

🕯️ Add the selenite to the sachet and think/say, “He’s got the gift of second sight”

🕯️ Add the citrine and think/say, “To trip a little light fantastic”

🕯️ Add the tiger’s eye and think/say, “A leerie’s job’s to light the way”

🕯️ Add the yellow glitter and think/say, “To take the night and make it day”

🕯️ Add the orange glitter and think/say, “We mimic the moon, yes, that’s our aim”

🕯️ Add the gold glitter and think/say, “For we’re keepers of the flame”

🕯️ As you seal the sachet, think/say, “So when troubles are incessant, simply be more incandescent, for your light comes with my lifetime guarantee”

🕯️ Whenever you’re feeling lost, shake the sachet on every syllable as you think/say, “Trip a little light fantastic with me”

Oof hopefully this is good and it works--this is my first spell! I just saw Mary Poppins Returns today and loved it and immediately thought I could make a spell out of this song.

Feel free to reblog!

[mimzilla]

Hmm do you think Killua’s love for Alluka and Gon is equal? Not in nature, cuz it’s a sibling and a bff, but in strength/intensity?

I’m a bit leery of giving a hard yes or no to this question, because I’m not really fond of quantifying affection. That said, this is a salient question to ask considering how he’s arguably swapped them out for each other, emotionally speaking. I guess my feelings on this are a ‘provisional yes’? A yes with an asterisk on it? Like... Yes*

*Because Killua’s affection for Alluka was forcibly taken from him for years, when they reunite it’s laden with a level of protectiveness and desperation that Killua and Gon’s relationship only sometimes mimics, like in the second arc and the dodgeball match. Killua and Gon are on much more equal footing than Killua and Alluka; though the former is affected by how much Killua wants to live up to how Gon sees him and the latter’s older/younger sibling dynamic is leveled by Alluka’s emotional maturity, Alluka is still reliant on Killua physically and financially in a way that Gon and Killua’s relationship can’t match up to. They ways he loves each of them are very different, and because of that it’s hard to compare them in a definitive way.

**There’s no question whatsoever about whether Killua’s love for Alluka is genuine, it most certainly is, and it exists alongside Killua’s guilt for being made to leave her as a prisoner. An aspect of their relationship I’m interested in seeing develop is Killua wanting to be for Alluka what Gon was for him: someone who opens up a whole world of excitement and adventure and freedom.

***But also like........ yeah, probably the amount he loves each of them is around the same? Kind of? Insofar as an amount of love can be defined? Ultimately my answer is more like “I personally don’t see much value in asking whether Killua loves Alluka more than Gon, because a) we haven’t seen nearly as much of Alluka, b) their dynamics are really different, and c) she needs protecting in a way that Gon doesn’t so Killua’s going to prioritize her over Gon until that’s not the case anymore, and once that happens it’ll more be the case that he needs to figure out how to have happy relationships with both of them than he needs to decide which one he loves Most Of All”.