#me: i hope this doesn't... awaken anything in me

[licollisa]

In my cringe era

@gildedxpleasure gave me the idea for bi light skeleton. Background from here. Full image here.

[summertaters]

Pinning - or more like pining? 🤔

[wearerandomlyyours]

Cyclone, before The Mission: I'll never understand how a great man and Admiral like Iceman could possible see anything in a chronic fuckup like Maverick.

Cyclone, after The Mission: Ohhhhhhhh.

[hrodvitnon]

Headcanon That I Need To Draw: Replikas have extendable/retractable canine teeth. Specifically the combat-based ones like STARs, STCRs, LSTRs and FKLRs. For CQC "when in doubt, bite their throats out" reasons. But also other reasons. The other reason is that it's sexy.

[kastle-thrones]

._.

hey fictionkin? uh quick question

how did you find out about your kintypes? please boost this around i need answers

[fannyyann]

chuck daddy on the right || FLA @ NJD | 3.5.24

[cotharach]

🎄"Flayn! you must be wary, there have been mistletoe laid out like traps as of late!" Ferdinand came prancing in, looking about the hallway with comical wariness. "I can only imagine what Professor Seteth must be feeling right now... a delicate young woman such as yourself is so susceptible to the trappings of festive romance!" while he was vaguely aware that Seteth's protectiveness (respectfully) bordered on stifling, Ferdinand couldn't help but be presumptuous himself.

"i've been getting better at spotting them. my eagle eyes can see one right there!" he rolled his wrist dramatically before pointing out a set of speckling reds and leafy green hung from the roof. "and there!" pointing at the pillar, he paused for a moment for enhanced gravitas. "...behind the pillar, of course."

"i certainly won't take them down, since it's all in good fun, but..." they walked and talked, letting the faint sun fold beams of light between the hallway pillars. their silhouettes followed playfully along, trailing together under the scarce winter sun. "oh, let's not walk there, lest you wish for..." oh, nevermind. he was going to manifest it at this rate.

"have you been having fun this holiday? mistletoe aside, aren't all the celebrations so endearing?" his laughter jingled. "i've been up baking treats to complement holiday tea-sets, so i may be considerably more sweet, ha h--"

a roudy group of students thundered towards them, holding up lines of streamers and Seiros banners. loud, clamorous laughter erupted from their group, as they bullheaded their way down the hall. "look where you all are--!" he didn't even get a chance to finish his sentence, before Ferdinand dodged their ongoing mob, Flayn in his arms. "agh! those utter buffoons..."

he nearly broke into the bushes, but forcefully stomped a foot down before his face met branches. "Flayn...! Flayn, are you alright?"

there was a mistletoe he missed, snagged on some lace that 1) he had laid down earlier on some bushes 2) definitely did NOT have mistletoe earlier.

mistletoe! (accepting)

Laughter comes out of her mouth gently, like the twinkling of a chime. Half-amused, half-huffy—she does not think there could be a man quite as protective as her brother, yet here the Aegir finest is, acting like a wonderful contender. She would prefer her companions not to mimic Seteth's ways, but admits that it feels somewhat endearing coming from him. He had a sincere quality that she believes she can trust.

"Worry not, Ferdinand. I have my own ways of circumventing these mistletoe traps that you speak of." she says, referring to the pack of sun-dried fish in her pocket.

"Still, I am appreciative of these eagle eyes of yours." she means it sincerely, following his lead as he steers them clear from the mistletoe, "Perhaps it would please my brother to know that I am in the company of such a polite young man!"

That is her hope, at least. Though she knows that the more likely scenario involves fewer pleasantries and more arduous talks. Still, Ferdinand has been acting very kindly thus far—were this an opera, he would surely be the knight, and she would be the damsel under his care. Surely even Seteth could approve of his noble sentiments?

"I have been enjoying myself, yes!" she answers as she continues to trot beside him, eyes cast up toward him and away from the walkway. Her first mistake. "A holiday tea set sounds most intriguing... if you should need some help with the baking, perhaps I could extend—Ah!"

It's a scene that happens all too quickly—a veritable flood of students flush out the walkway, stampeding the grounds. Ferdinand maneuvers himself out of their way... and takes Flayn in his arms as he does.

...Oh

She can hear the way his heartbeat races—or was that her own? She cannot tell the difference. Never has she found herself so close to someone before, enough that she would mistake them for herself. It's a feeling most strange... yet not uninvited.

They find themselves amongst the bushes, knees sunk into the leaves. Flayn, in her shock, does not answer Ferdinand immediately, instead taking a few more moments to bask in his arms.

Her second mistake. Goddess... perhaps she ought to take a long bath after this.

"I am quite alright, Ferdinand. You..." she is breathless when she finally speaks, lacking her normal eloquence, "You saved me! You truly have sharp senses. I do not know how I could possibly thank you! Or... perhaps I do."

Shifting her position, she wriggles about in search for her usual fare of dried fish—only to find they have fallen out of her pockets the midst of their... ah, tussle. Flayn searches for them, on the ground, within the bushes, but finds only the very mistletoe they had worked so hard to escape.

She might have laughed, had she not already been so out of breath.

"Oh, how unfortunate. I had so hoped to give you some fish! But it seems to have been displaced during that whole fiasco. Perhaps I should..." Green eyes look up at Ferdinand, then back to the mistletoe, then back up to Ferdinand. She purses her lips, finding it strange how they tremble so terribly.

No... No! Her mind shall not be home to such thoughts—not until she is sufficiently distanced from her brother, that is. Extracting herself from Ferdinand (with a small prick of disappointment), Flayn rises to her feet, brushes away the leaves at her skirt, and gives the young noble a smile—hoping that he would ignore the furious shade of red that her face now sports.

"No, nevermind! I shall simply have to repay you some other time. Thank you for walking with me, Ferdinand. I shall be on my way to class, now. Best of luck with your endeavors! Farewell! Good-bye! Ta-ta!"

Then, Flayn walks away, the pace of a speeding horse powering her boots. Her heart has not yet eased its racing, nor has the stubborn warmth from her face left its spot on her cheeks. If she manages to fall asleep tonight, perhaps she would dream of an opera—with a sunset-haired knight and his green-haired damsel.

[coockie8]

roy finds his first gray hair has a full on nervous breakdown and doesnt talk to ed for like a week cause hes scared ed will think hes ugly now 😭😭😭

Ed literally doesn't even notice Roy has started going grey until there's almost no black left in his hair, and then, of course, rapidly discovers he has no idea what to do with himself now that Roy is a Silver Fox lmao

[puppetmaster13u]

What if Bruharvey but Batman is the eldritch half-human child of Gotham who gave up his humanity and has technically been missing for the last 10 or so years haha....

Don't have all the AU planned out but it literally came into being just because I want to write a scene of Harvey finding out this being who has lost everything was not only human, but his best friend. His best friend who gave up everything to Gotham, who is so far removed from human now they can barely mimic a humanoid shape.

I do think Bruce still lives in the Cave, but it's more like the whole tunnel system under Gotham, not just the one under the Manor. He's Gotham's Knight still, just with a more Gotham curse-approved form and a few blurry memories due to his mind no longer running like a human's.

Probably takes in the Robins still too, just differently. How that is I currently don't know and am up for ideas lol. Actually I am open to pretty much any ideas you guys have. Gimme anything you got lol

[player1064]

Footy RPF Fictober, day 2 - injury

also available on ao3

MINDLESS NONSENSE!!!! also side-note writing about Gary having tight muscles that need a massage is making me very aware of how tight MY muscles are. massage roller save me....

carraville, set vaguely while they're off on one of their little trips to film the overlap on tour

---

Jamie hauls a limping Gary out of the lift and into his hotel room, lets him put his weight on him as he gingerly lowers himself to sit down on the bed with a wince.

What a drama queen, honestly. They’d been spending their afternoon off of filming on the beach with Roy and Wrighty – a chance to relax, but of course Gary Neville’s not relaxed a day in his life and he’d started getting antsy after a few minutes on a sun lounger.

Jamie’s also not much for sunbathing, so he’d found them a frisbee and they’d been playing around with it when Gary had suddenly done a weird little hop mid run and gone ‘ooh, fuck, I’ve done me ‘amstring’ in that squeaky little voice of his.

So now: Jamie’s left Roy and Ian at the beach (not that they’d notice if he was there or not anyway) to bring Gary back to the hotel, tease him a bit about being an old man with a broken-down body, and then get back to enjoying his day.

But Gary just looks so miserable, like he feels guilty for not being a twenty-something anymore, like he’s just personally ruined their whole trip, and Jamie feels – well, he should try do something, shouldn’t he?

“D’you want me to—” he gestures vaguely at Gary’s leg, not sure if he should say it. If it’s allowed. “I mean, I do an alright massage, if yer –"

“Oh.” Gary blinks. “Oh, I – ha. Thought you were just gonna give me an ibuprofen and leave me to ‘ave a nap or something.”

“Oh,” Jamie echoes. “Yeah, no, that – makes more sense, doesn’t it? I’ll just –” he looks around the room, all of a sudden feeling slightly desperate. Does he even have any ibuprofen on him? Does Gary?

“Massage sounds nice, though.”

Gary isn’t looking at him as he says this, is fidgeting with the starched white sheets on the bed instead. Oh, Jamie thinks again. Oh, he’s not used to asking for help.

A memory hits him, unwelcomed, of a summer’s day a lot like this one. But instead of the warm sands of Italy he’s on the battered grass of Melwood, instead of Gary sitting awkwardly at the end of the bed like a child waiting for a telling-off it’s –

He shakes the thought off.

“Go on then,” he replies, nodding towards the bed. “On your front. And off with those shorts, eh Gaz?”

Jamie’s never felt right using that nickname for Gary, but it’s a necessary evil. ‘Cause otherwise he’d just be a man asking another man to strip for him. So: Gaz it is.

Gary rolls his eyes but he shifts his shorts off – he’s got black boxers on underneath, big fucking surprise. Jamie could’ve told you that without even needing to look; he’s pretty sure it’s the only kind of underwear he owns.

Jamie goes into the bathroom to fetch the hotel-brand body lotion trying to pass itself off as fancy, then he hovers awkwardly at the edge of the bed, kind of half-kneeling half-standing next to Gary as he tries to work out how to do this in the least questionable way possible.

“Where’s it worst?” he asks, cringing at the way his voice cracks, just a tiny bit. Probably not even noticeable.

Gary hums in thought. “Hamstring,” he says simply.

Well, duh.

He eventually realises that Jamie’s not making a move because he needs more information, so he takes another second then says, “uh, think it’s the centre muscle. Maybe six inches up from my knee.”

Jamie spreads his hand over the back of Gary’s thigh, runs a firm line over the muscle with his thumb. “Here?”

“Hmm, bit lower maybe.”

Every muscle in Gary’s thigh is tight, left unattended for god knows how long. But Jamie knows it when he’s got it, feels the hard knot of muscle that makes his whole leg twitch when he presses into it. Slowly, slowly, he starts working at it, tries to stay gentle so he doesn’t put Gary off when he’s just barely started.

“Mmph,” Gary says, his voice muffled by the pillow, “you’re not bad at this, y’know.”

Jamie digs his thumb into the muscle hard, just ‘cause he can. It twitches involuntarily under the pressure, and Gary lets out a displeased, squeaky sort of hum. Then, after a few seconds, he watches smugly as the tension holding Gary’s entire body rigid starts to fade, as he relaxes back into the mattress.

“I’m serious.” Gary tries to twist around and look at Jamie, moving to prop himself up on one elbow. Jamie pushes him in the shoulder so that he lies back down. “D’you take a class or  somethin’? Don’t think I’ve had a half-decent massage since before I retired.”

“Bloody cheapskate,” Jamie mutters. Because of course Gary would never go out and pay for a massage. Though to be fair to him that’s probably less because of the cost and more because it’s never occurred to him that he might need one. “No classes, no. What, you think I can’t just be naturally talented?”

He can practically hear Gary rolling his eyes. “Just tryin’ to make conversation, James. Makes it less like I’m just lying half naked in a hotel room while another man feels me up.”

“Steady on, lad. There’s a long list of people I’d rather be feelin’ up right now than you.”

“Mmm,” Gary says. He sounds softer than Jamie’s used to, less frantic. “You do this for Nicola? She’s into her running, right? Bet she appreciates havin’ a masseuse at her beck and call.”

Jamie freezes, just for a moment. The sun beaming through the windows is warm on his back, and if he closes his eyes he can almost convince himself that he’s some other place, some other time. In his memories it’s always summer, warm and hazy and sweet. God, Carra, no wonder the girls all like you so much.

He shakes himself back to reality, back to Gary and his troublesome hamstring – or rather now his calf, because as Jamie works his way down his leg he’s realising there’s not a single relaxed muscle in his body. Typical Gary, of course.

“Not for Nicola, no,” he says, all light and conversational like. “She’d rather go to a professional. No need to risk my meaty hands making things worse.”

“Oh, right.”

Who, then? Gary kindly doesn’t ask. After all, he’s the expert in half-truths, in talking his way neatly around a subject until you forget the question ever crossed your mind.

Gary’s still built like a defender. Solid, stocky. Thick thighs that were never going to make him a sprinter but could get him in the air, could win him his fair share of tackles. There’s a faded surgery scar on his knee, a few more scattered over his ankle, his foot. Jamie’s not sure he could name a single footballer that doesn’t have scars like that.

Is all this really worth it? he’d asked once, a few lifetimes ago. He’d got a call from Mo, late evening, and he’d gotten straight into his car and driven half an hour to find him home alone, lying on his plush carpet with his face twisted in agony. And the only person he’d tried to call was Jamie. He always used to call Jamie.

Don’t be stupid, Carra, he’d said. He’d been trying to sound confident, cocky, but it had been through gritted teeth as Jamie tried to ease his leg back to a useable state. Of course it’s worth it. He’d let out a cry of pain that shot right through Jamie, that made him want to fold in on himself, then he’d looked him straight in the eyes and said it again. Of course it’s worth it.

“Sometimes,” Gary says now, interrupting the scene in Jamie’s mind, “sometimes, when it’s really cold I still feel an ache in my foot.”

Jamie’s nowhere near his foot, so he’s not sure why he’s bringing it up at all, but then –

“Becks used to get the same. An’ it’s so stupid, isn’t it? The things that make us – but every time I feel it, I wonder if he’s feeling it too. And I wonder if he’s thinkin’ the same about me, d’youknowwhatImean?”

The Foot, the papers used to call it, and The Foot’s Best Friend. Jamie kneads his fingers into Gary’s calf, thinks about all the times he’s gone through the same motions a on slimmer pair of legs, wonders if Michael ever thinks about calling him again when he’s in pain. Feels a twinge of guilt that he doesn’t ever really think about Michael at all.

He clears his throat. “That any better?”

Gary shuffles to sit upright, stretches his leg out like he’s testing it still works after such a grievous injury as the minor hamstring pull he’s suffered. “You know what, I think it actually is. Thanks, Carra. Maybe I should keep you on retainer, eh?”

“Not enough money in the world, Gary, this was a one-time offer.”

[frankenbolt]

Joker Folie à Deux was really good and weird and camp and uncomfortable and I really wish I could stop thinking about it which is the sign of a good movie tbh.

[tinglingfuckingsensation]

To celebrate the revival of my dragon age obsession I'm sharing my Cullen/Dorian smut again

Beautiful Undone

Rated E

Summary:

Cullen has problems getting it up. Dorian has no problem with that

OR

Dorian Pavus is an excellent and considerate lover.

(this is pure smut dealing with erectile dysfunction)

[masquenoire]

"What is that? Wait, no... don't tell me, that's a fuckin' Sundance A25, isn't it?? We're going out on a big mission tonight and you had the bright idea to pick something like that as backup??? You know what that is, that's SHIT! Which is what you are! You are shit, dumbass!"

[eugeniedanglars]

shoutout to all the 911 blogs i just followed purely so i can experience this episode through your no-context liveblogging

[abyssarts]

lesbians who cosplay yaoi together 💛💙

[joy-girl]

One Piece 1079 - Akagami no Shanks