#my brain was just like. but u liked that yellow one that turned into a car. no bitch that's transformers

[tunapesto]

cosplaying is healing me personally (killing my wallet, also)

[cringefailfagcat]

/hj that's a joke idk how u feel about power rangers and ranger series but I've been going insane about it it's so well done and beautiful and my favorite anime coming out this season and probably my favorite of this year.. but if you did...

lol I've seen... it does sound good tho ive never really cared about power rangers that much

[autism-alley]

made something to snack on for watching the finale :)

[youryanderedaddy]

yan prison guard who hates u but low-key wants to f??

YES?!

tw: female reader, hinted non-con, period cramps, physical neglect, abuse of power, hinted blood play, reader is hinted to be a criminal, starts flirty but ends dead dovey xD My Ko - fi <3

"Shit." You mumble, your back softly resting against the cold wall. You reach for the nearest utenstil on the ground - all metal now, since you broke one too many nice porcelain plates - and throw it against the bars with little consideration to the vomit inducing "food" still left inside. The yellow sauce splashes all over the floor, and you look up, not even bothering to hide your smug expression.

"I could make you lick that up, you know." Darcy states, adding little emotion to his already monotone voice - his eyes glued to the book in his lap and all the tiny little words in it, perfectly pristine fresh ink in the stuffy air. His gloved hands are digging into the paper, almost crumpling it, and you now know that his pale hands are simply incapable of holding anything gently - even the things he actually likes.

"Will you?" You tease, but the warning bells at the back of your mind go off nonetheless, seemingly in spite of your best attempts to come off as playful and not desperate. He rarely jokes around - not exactly the fun type. "I'll decide after I finish this page." Your warden chuckles humorlessly. "Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline." He starts reading aloud, licking his cold lips. "So be earnest..." You can feel his gaze on you, caging you in like a wild animal. "And repent." He finally closes the book. "Revelation 3:19." The blonde repeats quietly, turning his attention back to you - and you realise calling out was a mistake, but now it's too late. He's got you in his clutches.

"My stomach hurts. Tell me, Father Allmighty, is this devine punishment too?" You spit out sarcastically, hugging your knees in order to numb the pain a bit. "Or am I simply on my period?" It's your turn to giggle, although it hurts to do so - anything to mask the unease tugging at your vocal cords every time you're faced with that demon.

His eyes narrow in response, and his fingers circle his nose bridge as he scoffs at you, annoyance quickly spreading across his irritatingly handsome, yet equally sharp features.

"Your voice makes my head throb. Stop it." The guard barks, voice dropping low in warning. Still, you decide to push your luck due to pure and simple physical need. "But it hurts." You let yourself whine, slowly revealing your collarbone - and silently hoping that just this once the sweat will look like glitter. "I don't care." He hisses, picking his book again.

You roll your eyes.

"Alright. Sure. But you'll be the one cleaning the bloody sheets after." You mutter under your breath, crossing your hands. You're not sure what's more frustrating - the way your stomach is trying to eat itself or having to appease a narcissistic maniac with too much power and free time through it. Somewhere in the part of your brain still capable of rational thought you realize you should be provided with basic hygiene products just like all the other female prisoners. What makes you different, you guess, is the fact that you're kept under lock and key almost extensively. Solitary confinement 24 hours a day, except for Darcy.

He brings you food. He helps you bathe - if you've been good enough. He's the only one who knows if you're dead or alive. Hell, he may be the only one who even cares.

"I'm sure cleaning up your mess will be quite exciting." The blonde cracks a tiny, self evident smile only he knows the meaning of - and you would have frowned in disgust if you could still feel that lovely human emotion. "Admit it, you actually like the thought of me bleeding, you little freak." You scrunch your nose at him, then look back to the floor, the filth so thick it almost sticks to your slightly less dirty shoes. "Takes one to know one." Darcy responds nonchalantly, running his hand through his slick white locks.

At that moment the cramps return in full force, your lower abdomen on fire with sharp stabbing pain. You remember some fragmentary tips from your scrappy teen years - you close your eyes and breath in deeply, you bite the inside of your cheek - you even pray to whoever is listening, but it just won't stop. So you bargain.

"You can have it." You say with difficulty, folded in half. Hot tears prick your eyes and you try to fight them, but soon give into the agony. It's such a relief to cry after months of resilience - to break down completely and let your most vulnerable self out.

The warden takes a single steps towards the bars and motions for you to move closer. You crawl to him, your hand supporting your lower belly in the process. He takes a good look at you and slowly, almost gently caresses your face through the metal - eyes suddenly softened by the image of you dancing in the palm of his hand.

If it was anyone else he'd be simply repulsed by this clear display of weakness. If it was another prisoner, another hardened criminal, he'd have no problem following his own principles of zero tolerance - of crushing and breaking their spirit until nothing was left. But it was you and your beatiful, stipid tears that mesmerized him to no end, that haunted his dreams and turned his bloodlust into something a lot more sinister. Something harder to capture, harder to fight - and easier to give into.

"You can have it." You repeated tearfully, rubbing at your soft wet eyelids - completely still. Scared of your own flesh and its betrayal. "My mind, my body, anything. Just please give me some pills. I can't take it." You whimper pitifully, shaking under his watchful eyes. He's holding onto your cheek, but you feel like he's got you in a suffocating embrace. And then just when you're about to kneel down, he unlocks the door to your cell.

"I've been taking your brain apart for months now." Darcy whispers softly, taking off one of his gloves and letting it drop to the floor. He takes another step towards your cowering form. "Your body, on the other hand, is a white canvas." He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze - and the pain fades away instantly, replaced by raw, intense fear. "I wonder what your insides look like. Surely, they're beatiful."

You feel his lips on your neck, followed by the tip of a knife - a butterfly kiss.

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

blurb of steve harrington x reader having a daddy kink (minors DNI; not proofread)

maybe it was the warmth of steve’s heated pool or the sips of rosé you had rushing to your brain, but you couldn’t stop the fluttering in your tummy as you watched steve play basketball with the younger teens in his pool. you certainly couldnt stop the feeling when robin swam up to sit with you on the pool steps and pointed out steve’s behavior, “ugh look at dingus… god he’s gonna be such a good dad one day- it’s kinda annoying.” of course, you couldn’t help but agree with her, a dreamy sigh slipping out of your month while steve dunked dustin under the water, and you had begun imagining him with a lil fluffy-haired babe of his own. robin clocked the way you were looking at steve, “don’t you agree?” she questioned as you quickly nodded your head, “oh i see- you wanna be the one to make him a daddddyyy!” teasing you in that sing-song voice, making you simply giggle in return, trying to ignore the warmth that flushed to your cunt thinking about steve as a daddy.

one of the best things about your relationship with steve is that he almost always can tell how you are feeling, he can read you like a book. so you weren’t shocked that he immediately could tell what you needed when you wrapped your arms around him, basically hugging him from behind as he cleaned the grill, clad in just his yellow crewneck over your damp bikini to fight the nip of the wind. at this point, everyone had left so he felt no shame as he put his arm around your shoulder, pulled you into his side, and stared at your glassy puppy-dog eyes. breathlessly chuckling, he pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i know, honey, i know.”

once you got inside, steve all but carried you to his bedroom, both of you loving the way he manhandled you, as you pressed small pecks on his jaw and cheeks. “are you feeling needy, baby, huh?” he teased, turning the knob on his door, noticing the way your hips were trying to hump his. you could whimper and squirm in response as steve sat down on his bed with you in his lap. you were both so turned on, and still a lil tipsy, so it wasn’t a surprise when you ended sinking down on his throbbing cock, his hands on your waist, within a few minutes. “o’shit baby, yeah there you go, my good girl. jus’ the tip, ok, don’t hurt yourself baby- god you’re so fuckin wet,” steve couldn’t help his whines and moans as you trembled like a leaf around him, cockdrunk trying to take him deeper. “hnghhh-oh! i-i ca- cant-s’good daddy”. you didn’t catch the petname slipping past your lips, but steve did. stopping you from sinking any further, he stilled your hips and grabbed your face by squishing your checks “what did u call me, honey?” of course you were beyond embarrassed, but with his steady grip in your face you had nowhere to run. “i’m s’sorry! i didnt mean to i-it jus’ slipped out-” you felt stupid and small and you couldn’t control the tears dripping from your eyes. “aw, sweetheart, it’s okay, dont be embarrassed. i jus’ wanted to know why you want to call me that. y’know ill give you whatever you ask for, angel”. you stopped your sniffling, and shifted your eyes to nervously connect with steve’s, basically whining out “ ‘s just-robin asked me if i was ever gonna make you a dad, ‘n’ i cant help imagining it- you take such good care of all of the group now, and well… me so i jus’ couldnt stop thinkin’ about it”

steve could say he was surprised but, he wasn’t. at heart, he was a caregiver through and through, and that carried into your relationship to an extreme. there was a hint of casual dominance in everything he did for you. tying your shoes, carrying you around, bathing you in the shower or bath, keeping your hands warm in his pocket, making you meals, feeding you when you were to weak, kissing you to sleep everynight, etc,. and to be honest, he blushed to the thought of you wanting his babies as bad as he wanted to give them to you.

“aw, peach,” he cooed grabbing your face and slowly thrusting into you, watching you contort your pout into a gasp, “you’re s’sweet, love, one day, you’re gonna let me put a baby in you, hm? yeah but until, i’ll just be your daddy, you can have me all to yourself, how ‘bout that, honey?” you rapidly nodded your head with your eyes pinched, whimpering and whining about how good it felt and how deep he was, as you began to match his thrusts, slowing building a steady pace as he went further and further inside you. “my shy, dumb lil baby, huh? put daddy’s cock in you and you can’t respond t’me? that’s okay, my girl, my good girl, just let your head go empty and daddy will do all the work, gonna make this soaked, pretty pussy cum all over me.”

[greenlaut]

death of the divine ✸

as your flatter talk shivers down my spine i hear the Holy One exposing all the lies (Lord, forgive me, i know my flesh needs to die) x

baal / lucifer / michael from angels before man and angels & man by @nicosraf

close-ups + work progress under the cut

og sketches

cleaned up sketch (i can't perceive my own messy sketch's coherency ok)

1st version. didn't like how thick the lineart and the colour palette isn't clicking with me. is so i scrapped it. decided i want to do frame/illuminated manuscript thingy so i added frame and re-centered michael.

i kind of winged it for the final version, so i don't have progress of me picking colour palette or compositions. idk how i did it, i just did it, it was hard. i had a bad day so i blanked out the entire day to just lose myself in this illustration. and then uh. tada.

now some close-ups:

and some notes:

i know i want lucifer's skin to come across as "gold", so i keep picking his colour in the orange spectrum. bcs yanno--the sun (morningstar). naturally baal is more red leaning, which i think also suits his lion associated imagery well (because lion -> strength card (in tarot deck) -> red. idk, it's how my brain is)

originally michael doesn't wear an armour. i decided last minute to put him in one because fuck it; (1) armour cool and (2) i am a masochist ig

both baal and lucifer wear lipgloss. this is entirely dedicated to rafael's (the author. not the angel.) suffering. they share lipgloss by kissing, you fools.

michael has "jellyfish" hairstyle because. the front bob kinda reminds me how catholic friars/monks in certain schoolings cut their hair in that bob hair? yknow the one?? ya?? anyway it's for that imagery.

both baal and lucifer's legs are caging michael. bcs they're what ground him (vices/temptations) ahahahahaa

i actually asked rafael (author not the angel) and he said he imagined baal is a brunette, which is the same like i had in mind. except that baal asked that he got depicted as a wizened old man/wizard. so now he gets a beard and his hair is white. (he also insisted i gave him a stylish beard)

if u look closely at the jewelries the demons wore; one of lucifer's rings and baal's visible earring have gemstones the colour of michael's eyes

in return, michael's sash is the colour of the demons

baal has a ring with heliodor (yellow) for lucifer, and lucifer has a(nother) ring with red ruby for baal

baal's other gemstones are topaz and lucifer's are yellow jasper

both demons have pearl necklaces. they're supposed to represent michael('s wings ahahahahahaahaha)

my headcanon is that michael's wings are brown like sparrow's actually. BUT during the war, god gave him more power and authority and my understanding is that he got tempered into a perfect sword; so his wings turned white. when book 3 came out and they finally bang (I FUCKING HOPE THEY DO. RAFAEL. THIS IS FOR YOU RAFAEL.) his wings will turn brown againehehhehe

lucifer's coat has wing-like cut at the ends to represent his no longer existing wingsbye

michael is blue because one time i shared this imagery with rafael; michael wearing blue because of the same reason virgin mary is depicted in blue. god's favourites are in blue; fated to suffer and be left behind.

fin.

[amirasainz]

hi!! i love this series sm and can u please write baby!sainz crushing on lando and carlos noticed it ++ lando and baby!sainz cute moments. thank you! have a good day 🫶🏻

Hey loves. I'm always so happy when I receive new requests. My requests are open and feedback is always welcome. Enjoy reading! -XoXo

Three times when...

The cooking fiasco

It was common knowledge in the Sainz household that Amira Sainz did not like cooking. In fact, it was a task she despised. When the Sainz children were younger, the chores were so divided that Amira never had to cook. She would go shopping for the ingredients or clean up the kitchen afterward. But she never lifted one pretty, manicured finger to prepare a meal.

So one could understand the shock when Carlos came down to the kitchen this morning and saw his baby sister cooking. And not just something easy like instant noodles—Senorita Sainz had prepared Croquetas de Jamón, a dish that required time and patience. Two things his little sister usually did not have.

However, Carlos had to admit they smelled amazing. When he tried to take a piece, his sister slapped his hand away. “Amira, what—” “Carlitos, they are not for hermano. It took me hours to prepare them, and I will not let you eat them all just because you’re hungry,” she informed her brother with a playful smile. “Come on, hermanita. Just one tiny piece. They look delicious.” She shook her head again, packed the Croquetas away, and told her brother they needed to leave.

The Sainz siblings, armed with their bags and a little plastic box filled with those delectable Croquetas de Jamón, entered the paddock. But it was Amira’s bold move that stole the show—skipping over to Lando and presenting him with her carefully prepared culinary masterpiece. Carlos, caught off guard, stood in the middle of the entrance, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

And then came Lando’s reaction: “Darling, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Amira blushed, and Carlos was left utterly dumbfounded.

Little did he know that his bewildered expression would soon become an internet sensation—a meme capturing the moment when Carlos’s brain seemingly took a vacation for a solid 40 minutes.

2. The hat

Oh, how he hated this hat. This stupid childish hat, that Lando wore for his first home GP. Carlos’s disdain for that neon green/yellow-ish hat was legendary, and it seemed to be etched into his very soul. But when he saw his sister, Amira, wearing the same hat, panic set in. His protective instincts kicked into high gear, and he bombarded her with questions: “Amira, what happened? Were you forced to wear this? Did Lando force you? Do you owe him money? Mi preciada hermana, you know I’ll lend you all the money I have. I will—”

And then, Amira’s interruption: “Don’t you think I look pretty?” Carlos was left speechless. Of course, she looked beautiful, but why this… thing on her head? Amira explained that it was Lando’s hat—the very same one he wore during his first home Grand Prix. She wanted to show her support for him, even though her loyalty to Carlos was unwavering.

Carlos grappled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, his sister’s gesture was sweet, even if the hat was an eyesore. On the other hand, why did it have to be that hat? His sister looked always lovely, but this neon monstrosity…

Before he could articulate his thoughts, Lando himself appeared. “Looking good, Mira,” he praised, and Amira blushed. Then, Lando turned to Carlos. “Hey, you good, man?”

And there it was—the unspoken tension between past teammates, siblings, and that ridiculous hat. Carlos managed a half-hearted nod. “Yeah, just… processing,” he mumbled. But deep down, he wondered if this whole situation would become another meme—one where Carlos stared into space, contemplating the mysteries of life, love, and questionable headwear.

3.The cut

It was racing weekend after a two week break. Carlos couldn’t help but tease Lando about that minuscule cut—the one that had everyone talking after his wild party weekend in the Netherlands.

“Cabrón, how did you even manage to cut yourself open? I mean, you were on a boat. A boat, Lando.” The banter flowed between them like old times, and Carlos secretly acknowledged that while Charles felt like a little brother, Lando was his true confidant. Amidst the tough competition at Ferrari, Lando was the one who knew all his inner struggles and insecurities—the person he could share everything with. Lando, who knew that Carlos didn't have any offers from other teams. Lando, who knew that the offer from Audi was taken back. He just couldn't tell Charles those things. Not because he couldn't trust him as well. But he always felt the need to protect the young Monegasque and didn't want to make him feel worse about his leave.

But then, the unexpected happened. Carlos’s attention shifted from Lando’s escapades to a quick blur of pink. The exact shade his sister had worn just days ago. And there they were: Amira and Lando, arms around each other. Concern etched on her face, she asked Lando if he was feeling alright, if she could do anything for him. His response—teasing yet sincere—sent a shiver down Carlos’s spine. Those stars in Lando’s eyes, the whispered words in Spanish from her: “Oh Lando, estoy tan feliz de que estés bien”, Lando rubbing her back for comfort.

Those two friends, caught in a moment that felt both intimate and confusing. Carlos’s mind raced. Did his sister have a crush on Lando? It couldn’t be, right?

Or could it?

[arachine]

— what's going on down there?: a dick analysis

ᥫ᭡ featuring :: jake sully, miles quaritch & norm spellman

ᥫ᭡ includes :: their human forms + avatar forms

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: talking about dicks obviously, explicit sexual content (?), humor lol

ᥫ᭡ note :: if you know anything about arachine, you know i love a good dick analysis. these posts are intended for comedic purposes only, which means they’re not to be taken seriously.

— jake “ima slut you out” sully

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: as we all know, jake’s life on earth was very unfulfilling. he was a man who sacrificed his legs for the fate of the country, only to be disposed of into the unforgiving hands of society, with no way to reap the benefits (or lack thereof) that veterans were promised to receive. and after losing the privilege of mobility, his body changed drastically. he got smaller, his body got weaker, and yet, one thing remained—that dick! jake is a survivor, through and through—his personal motto is: if it ain’t broken, then it’s still working—and boy, he does not disappoint when it comes to the downstairs department. standing tall at 7 inches, is little jake (maybe not so little). when flaccid, his length measures at a solid 5.7 inches. definitely a grower. 

⟳ width: a little bit on the skinnier side, but he knows how to use it and that’s all that matters!

⟳ color: i think for the most part, his shaft definitely matches the rest of his body; though, i can see it maybe being slightly a little more darker at the base, like a very light beige. when he’s flaccid, his tip is a pretty pink, almost like a ballet slipper (aka the best pink). turns into an angry red when fully erect!

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: jake pegs me as the kinda guy who doesn’t really care? i mean, trimming isn’t foreign to him, because he has trimmed it before, and does so when he notices it’s gotten to be too long…but, i don’t think it’s something that he does often. to him, it’s just hair. he’s on his grown man shit, you know? 

02. curved?: uhm, yes! you know that one beyoncé lyric? yeah. 

03. any veins?: absolutely covered in ‘em

04. how he fucks with it: i’d like to think before his accident, he was a doggy style connoisseur—come on, it’s jake we’re talking about here. can’t nobody tell me otherwise! i just know he had bitches bent over, weaves sweated out, makeup all over the pillows…mans was f-u-c-k-i-n-g okay? fuckingggg. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: the masses may attack me, but it’s time i spoke up. the man has a monster schlong. a cooter cat killer, if you will. if you thought his human form was big, shit, you ain’t seen nothing yet! completely flaccid, his cock measures to about 10 inches. when fully hard, he grows an additional three! talk about impressive…

⟳ width: so thick that it basically slaps his thighs when he walks. the man could create a beat with it, get em into the soundcloud business now!

⟳ color: self explanatory tbh, it’s fucking blue. as blue as papa smurf’s ass. 

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: i’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that because he’s an avatar, he grows hair there. even if i’m wrong, i’m right. i don’t give a damn what james cameron says. he’s basically my character at this point, and i will him to have hair damnit! just…the idea of him having a full bush down there, in the wild, all primitive and shit…does something to me. idk. don’t ask me why i’m so nasty, blame my deadbeat father. 

02. curved?: is a banana yellow? there’s your answer. 

03. any veins?: i might have a brain aneurysm just thinking about it, but yes! god, yes. so many…so, so, so many. ribbed for her pleasure or whatever trojan said. 

04. how he fucks with it: is he still the doggy style connoisseur? yes. but now that’s got the strength of 20 men, backshots sound a whole lot like gunshots now. they say every time the mighty toruk makto thrusts into a cunt, a tree falls down or something. so, yes. fucks hard, fucks rough, fucks like he’s on a mission. what’s that one tik tok audio? “rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, i dive in her cervix.” yeah, he lives by that. 

— miles “on your knees, cadet!” quaritch

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: just gonna cut right to the chase. he’s huge. like pussy splitting huge. i don’t care what anyone says, you can argue with ya friend, you can argue with ya mother, but you cannot argue with me! coming in at a solid 6 when flaccid, quaritch takes the cake for the biggest cock on this list (at least, human form wise). at full length, he measures to about 7.8 inches! 

‘booooo’ you say, well, guess what? it’s the truth, and i’m just the messenger. whether you hate him or love him, he’s just that guy. 

⟳ width: surprisingly average. but it’s okay, sometimes you can’t have the best of both worlds. 

⟳ color: if my memory serves me right, he was pretty tan in the first movie. so, i’m gonna stick with that and say that it’s a pretty tan that transitions into a pale pink. i don’t know if some of you have seen old dick, but their tips get less saturated with age. it’s a phenomenon (not really, the blood flow to the groin is just a lot slower, which can make it appear kind of gre—anyway, i digress!)

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: this man is a colonel, so he’s all about discipline and keeping things nice and tidy. so, obviously, his hygiene reflects that. i don’t think he goes completely bald, but he does give it a good trim. kind of like a fade…just imagine a patch of grey, prickly hair. yeah. 

02. curved?: yes, and since he’s older, it’s probably curved a lot. you could probably hang something on it. maybe a towel, or a lanyard. it’s definitely useful for something!

03. any veins?: god, i don’t know why, but i have it in my head that he’s on steroids. he’s just so buff and strong, and i mean, yeah, he could just be really fit…but he could also be a self-image obsessed freak who takes drugs to be the perfect soldier. the correlation, you ask? well, i just feel like people who take steroids are really veiny, and i feel like his dick would be really, really veiny. so, thus the rant about steroids. steroid dick. 

04. how he fucks with it: don’t let his age fool you. he may very well be pushing his late fifties, but he’s still a young man at heart—and he’s definitely got the sex drive to prove it! i can see his favorite position being something like missionary. not so much because he enjoys the intimacy of it (like being face to face), but more so because he’s got a size kink—and definitely a dacryphilia kink. he enjoys seeing his partners cry, whether in pain, or in pleasure, or both! so, when you’re fucking him, don’t expect anything romantic. he just wants to see your pretty little face all teary eyed and pathetic. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: so big you can see it from space; that’s how the RDA mfs know they’re close, because they can see the tip protruding from pandora. no, but seriously, it’s still really huge. like maybe 12-14 inches—maximum. 

⟳ width: probably twice as thick as a human’s forearm. and god, it’s sooooo heavy. big breeding balls to match. 

⟳ color: blue blue blue…like wet fun dip. with just as many stripes as the american flag or whatever. 

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: yes, but the hair is black instead of grey and it’s probably really straight because na’vi hair is straight as fuck. 

02. curved?: sir, yes sir. 

03. any veins?: what’d i say? steroid dick. but even worse (better) now bc he’s so damn tall, he needs all the blood he can get down there.

04. how he fucks with it: has you in all types of positions. his favorites are anything that shows off his new found strength, so i’m betting on full nelsons and mating presses. just fast, powerful strokes. lives by the motto: can’t stop, won’t stop.

— norm “what’s the sq root of 69?” spellman

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: i’m sorry to disappoint the norm fuckers (if there are any), but he’s not that big. when he’s soft, his cock measures to about 4.8 inches, and at most, 6.2 inches when hard. 

⟳ width: skinny dick. 

⟳ color: dawg he’s so white, it’s like hella pale and the tip is so pink that when he’s aroused, it looks like there’s something wrong.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: like jake, i don’t think he really cares.

02. curved?: straight like a pencil

03. any veins?: like two, and they’re really prominent because he’s so fucking pale.

04. how he fucks with it: i don’t think human norm is getting puss, let’s be real. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: i am a firm believer in N.W.B.C—nerds with big cocks. it’s just the universe’s way of saying thank you, they just…they just do so much for us, you know? norm may not have been packing down there in his human form, but this was his second chance at redemption. he’s now a proud member of N.W.B.C, sporting an impressive 15 inches. you know that one scene in the first spider-man when pete’s looking at himself in the mirror and he looks inside his briefs? yeah, that was norm when he found out. the man got so excited, he accidentally catapulted a scientist out of pandora’s atmosphere with the weight of his cock. joking. 

⟳ width: on the skinnier side but still toe curling, nonetheless.

⟳ color: laffy taffy blue, with little (big) blueberry balls.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: no, he’s too busy in the lab and getting na’vi puss.

02. curved?: unfortunately no

03. any veins?: more than before, which he was pleasantly surprised to see.

04. how he fucks with it: norm’s got a big dick, but he acts so shy, like he’s scared of it or something. like stop playing boy and drop them drawls, the fuck? anyway, i think norm’s a sub. he pegs me as the type of guy who likes strong women, women who’ll tell him to shut the fuck up (because he talks so much) and eat their pussies. i guess this makes him a munch. yeah, he’s a munch. ice spice actually wrote that song with him in mind!

© arachine 2023

[milkbreadandtadpoles]

soup!sukuna

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆｡°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒｡⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆｡°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒｡⋆୨୧˚

snippet: 2k depicting the first time reader and soup!au sukuna hookup. he's less than nice, but you're into that. modern au!! idk if it's college or whatnot, u decide (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ reader is neutral, described as having a vagina

warnings: pnv ladies and germs, rough sex ig! slapping and spanking and some degradation if you squint. sukuna being a total ass and reader playing him like a fiddle and making him question his stamina. not edited yet cuz im on that "im so proud" high

author's note shiiii: oh hello, it's me again. i am ill (i have been ill for a week), and i guess suku the gr8 has gotten to me. so pls enjoy how i think he is in my little brain. all characters are over the age of 18, and if you are reading this and are not, silently show yourself the door <3

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆｡°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒｡⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆｡°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒｡⋆୨୧˚

There’s a harsh smack on your ass as you crawl across the bed. It has you stumble and squeak; a helping hand forcing you to arch, lay and stay against your mattress. Another high pitched noise has Sukuna chuckling above you, palming the growing erection with his other hand. You turn around and gulp. 

Sometimes boys don’t lie. 

“You’re so hot.” He says quietly, baritone in his tone still noticeable. You laugh, and his brows knit- the fuck are you laughing about? 

There’s a push in you, forcing your spin to dip gracefully, deviously and deliciously. You sprawl your arms in front of you, fingers rubbing against one of your blankets. He’s admiring you, you can feel it. Those deep, savory eyes, colored like a cherry wine underneath the yellow ambience of your lamp, graze over the lace outline of your cotton panties. 

“Thanks.” You hum, biting your bottom lip saturated with gloss and balm. No need to compliment him back, he knows he’s devastating. 

He reaches out to grope and smack each of your cheeks haphazardly. You purr; his hand covers so much of you. There’s a lopsided smirk on his face, it’s apparent as he yanks the material off. Lazily, you crawl out of them, since boys can’t be bothered to take them off further than the back of your knees, and reposition yourself. 

Large, gruff hands degrade you- one of them molding against the entirety of your skull to press half of your face into the bed, the other rubbing his spit onto his dick and getting ready to align himself with the opening of your pussy. 

Boys. 

“You gotta finger me first.” 

Sukuna’s upper lip curls, looking at you like you’re all work. The feeling doesn’t fade when you openly roll your eyes. Don’t you get it, girl? You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. So just lay there and- 

“I texted you about it. I’ll literally tear,” You add. 

“Alright.” He bites, unwrapping his fingers from around the base of his cock and nudging one of the digits against your slit. And holy shit you’re tight. Sensitive. Those eyes catch the slightest curl in your toes, the purse of your lips and furrow of your brows as you feel him out. 

And shit, he kinda wants to see your face strewn up. 

Sukuna nudges his middle finger between your legs, lips parting in realizing how tight you actually are. You were right. 

if we hookup you gotta be gentle first, im tight 

and not in the cool way

You hum lightly in satisfaction, something he never though the enjoyed hearing, letting a sharp gasp emit from your lungs as he selfishly adds his index. Thighs shut, Sukuna has to remove his grip from your head to inch them back apart to watch your pussy clench and flutter around a percentage of him. 

“Slower.” Sukuna raises his brows at your demanding attitude- he’ll have to fuck that out of you later, but relents regardless, carefully twisting two joined fingers in and out of your walls that are already squelching and wet. 

What bitchy comment you made pays off immediately, the sound of a saccharine sweet moan he pulls from you making his dick twitch. There’s a pellet of want in his sternum, something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager who groped a pair of tits in the locker room for the first time. 

After a few minutes of dragging sweet sounds from you, he experimentally pulls his fingers out, more than pleased to see your eyes open and peer at him with indignation. You huff, rubbing your socked feet together in silent anticipation. 

You open your mouth to protest, only to cut yourself off with a high pitched whine as he urges three of his fingers, much bigger than any other boy you’ve had (but you won’t tell him that) back between your pussy. Preening against his touch, you move your hips back to meet at his knuckles. 

Sukuna laughs once, and again when you clench around his fingers at his amusement. 

“Oh.” Is what you say, all watery and whiny when he thrusts one, two, three, four times in rapid movements. It catches you off guard, and you squirm. Your fingers grapple at your sheets, face twisting to hide from his penetrating gaze. He’s enamored with your face, the way it pinches in delight. 

“Are you gonna cum?” 

You laugh amidst a pleasured whimper. 

“No- you can fuck me now.” 

Whatever face he made, you choose not to see.

He grunts, laying a smack against your pussy and kneading the fat of your hips while he aligns his. Slowly, just like your bratty, bossy ass said, he eases the tip of his cock between your plush thighs, your hot, tight walls. You pinch your face, focusing on being relaxed, letting out a garbled whimper as he sinks himself to the hilt. 

The notion of him pulling out (before slamming back in, as all men do too quickly), has you reaching a hand out and nudging at his stomach to stop him. 

“Slow.” You reprimand. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He thinks he's gonna cum.

Sukuna graces you by easing in and out twice, dragging out a soft, sweet hum from you before he rolls his hips in a dangerously fast notion. He likes it when you squeal in surprise. Maybe if you’re not as bossy the rest of the time, he’ll look you in the eye and speak to you casually the next time you're at the basketball court with Uraume.

The tip, all angry and red just like him, pushes against your cervix. You get to squirm for a quick second before both of his hands grab at your hips to push you down, to shut you up, to keep you still. A small, uncomfortable giggle bubbles in your throat, peering at him out of the corner of your eyes. 

How your eyes are slit, the way you’re expression is lidded and enchanted, has Sukuna grunting and thrusting against you harshly. Your lips, all glossy and annoyingly cute, curl into a satiated smile, parting a mere second after as he pulls out all the way just to bully himself back in. 

You sink into the bed, back arched to practiced perfection. 

“That’s right,” He breathes, fucking into you at a pace that forces your jaw slaw, “There you go.” 

Your lashes flutter at his words go straight to your gut, hearing the petulant smack of him against your clit, the plush of your thighs. He inches closer, and you gasp as he knees you further apart and forces himself even deeper. 

Thumbs nudge at the dimples in your back, pressing against them as he forces your hips to fuck against him. The fat of your ass squishes against his lower abdomen, and you swear he’s so thick you can feel the outline of one of his veins in your walls. 

“Shit.” You cry, pushing yourself upright to stay steady against the forceful thrusts that threaten to knock your head into the metal bed frame. Sukuna shakes his head, moving his hands and leaning over to push you back down. 

Breath leaves you, and you whimper when you feel his hands against your cheek, the back of your head, shoving your face into the sheets again. 

“Sorry.” The whisper in your voice as you hiccup a moan that has Sukuna shaking his head once more in disbelief because he’s about to bust. He pulls out, forcing himself to fucking not, taking one of his hands (don’t worry, you’re still coerced down with the other) to give you an angry smack on your ass. 

You’ve never heard a man growl like he just did. And well, you’ve been around the block. It’s strained and jarring and fucking hot, the way Sukuna does it in warning. 

A minute later and he’s shoving himself back into you with no warning, making sure you stay right here as he pinches the chunk of flesh on your cheek. His palm is flat, forcing your lips into a dirty pout that muffles any noise that bubbles between them. 

“Mhm,” He murmurs, impressed that he didn’t cum right then and there when he caught sight of your watery eyes looking so pornographic, “Keep your mouth fucking shut.” 

Sukuna’s good, you’ll give him that. So you try, only to be obscured and mushed into a babbling mess the longer he fucks into you. It’s overwhelming, the way his cock stretches you out. Your walls flutter with relief each time he teases you as he pulls all the way out, only to be devastatingly, pleasurable split open with the harsh, nipped roll of his hips. 

There’s a slap to your cheek. And you hum. 

“Oh,” He goads, “You like that.” 

You’re nodding, and he’s flipping you over, yanking you and pushing right back into you. It makes your head swim as he grabs your face between his finger, squishing it and molding it like clay. Your lips pucker like a little, helpless fish, wondering for a split second if he’ll kiss you. 

He doesn’t. You don’t mind. It feels better than a kiss when he releases your face only to reel his hand back and slap you so hard across the face your ears begin to ring. 

Sukuna likes that dumb look on your face, gripping the dips of your waist so he can fuck himself harder into you. The gasps and wiggles, the way your small, manicured fingers wrap around his biceps has the sharpness of his cheekbones flushing with color. It brings a brief look of annoyance to his face, because he’s on the verge of cumming again. 

Your nails dig into the muscles of his upper arms, lips parted and face pinched in that sweet expression as you gaze at him with a disbelieving look at how deep he’s hitting. 

“It’s too much, let me flip over-“ The begging falls of deaf ears, a large hand decorated in thick ink wrapping around your throat to finally fucking quiet you. Sukuna doesn’t let you worm away, pushing you into the bed to keep you right where you belong so he can pummel you to his own orgasm. 

That look on your face- blissfully fucked out and controlled, face warm, it’s too much for Sukuna’s stamina. He pulls out, hissing under his breath as he busts all over your stomach. It squirts across your smooth skin; part of him wants to smear it and rub it in.  

And you laugh. Breathy and choked, reaching up and wiping your eyes from the tears of being choked a millisecond from passing out. Sukuna unwraps his hand from your throat, giving you a supportive, congratulative pat on your cheek. 

“Why are you fucking laughing?” You're weird and cocky.

You wave him off, turning and pulling open a drawer in your bedside table. Rummaging, you pull out a package of wet wipes, opening it for the two of you as you clean yourself off and toss it in the trashcan by your bed. And shit, to Sukuna, you look more well prepared than him. 

He takes one and cleans himself off. You pull up your panties and yank over a shirt large enough to come to your knees. The braids in your hair are frizzy, your bottom lip wet and chewed from your own vacillation. 

A satisfied smile smears across your face as you re-balm your lips, Sukuna eyeing your incurious face as he yanks on his boxers and joggers. You lay flat on the bed, giving yourself a minute to bask in the recently-fucked high. 

“Thanks.” You murmur to him as he pulls on a white shirt. Black ink teases through the sheen fabric, and you watch with an apathetic hunger. 

“Sure.” 

He’s grabbing his keys, and you’re walking him out the door. Sukuna looks at the socks you’re wearing, the same socks tracing up and down his lower back as your legs were wrapped around his torso; he entertains the idea of feeling it again. 

“Bye! Drive safe.” 

“See ya.” 

You shut the door behind him, a giddy, exultant smile on your face as you trail back to your room so you can call your friends and tell them about how good you were just fucked. How hot he was. That is was Sukuna, that guy who knows and hangs out with Choso. But you’ll text him first. 

drive safe! I had fun. Let me know if you wanna do it again. ଘ( ˊωˋ)†

He texts you ten minutes later, home.

the fuck is that?

[obsob]

I'm an artist who has difficulty colouring work, so if you're ever comfortable sharing i would love to see what the process of someone else to who colouring does not come natural look like! I love how your colours turn out, so warm and cohesive without being washed out. When I look at the process of other artists I admire they often seem to hit on their colours quickly, so it would be very helpful to see the process of someone who struggles more, like I do.

hi !!! i posted process vids for these three drawings which u might find helpful but they go pretty quick so i will try and explain more!

-my big number one advice is doing underpainting, this is all the yellow u see me use in the process vids. this is partly so i can alpha lock them for easy colouring but also, i use semi-opaque brushes when doing my main colouring which lets the yellow peek through every part of the drawing, giving everything a uniform undertone! very very helpful i recommend it a lot :3 things like overlay / multiply layers can help bring all your colours together as well and make a big difference. i also like to use soft light / subtract layer modes. just play around!! i do however think its good practice for your drawing to work without those modes as well, you dont want to rely on them to make the drawing work, just enhance it! heres a drawing of mine with and without the various layer modes - a big difference and more impactful with, but the drawing on the left still looks fine without!

-as for how i go about choosing colours i hve two ways. mainly nowadays i just eyeball it but i also sometimes use colour pallets like these! how i make these palettes is by auto generating palettes from images in procreate which is so so helpful. if u see artwork u rlly like the colours its a great way of trying those colours for yourself without having to do as much thinking. when u get a sense for it u can start coming up with your own palettes!

-i cant talk abt this without talking about colour theory. i am not an expert but its really worth familiarising yourself with what colours work / contrast each other. if u want to, for example make a warm toned drawing u simply just stay away from cool toned colours! u can still have them in, but there still needs to be a warm undertone that can be done with the underpainting or just eyeballing! i hvent used palettes for a long while now and ive always found it easier to choose cohesive palettes with these than using the like big wheel or smth.

i prefer picking colours like this bc i feel like i can more easily control the undertone, than if i was picking off a colour wheel etc.

a lot of my success just comes from practice and experience! but smtimes colours r just stinky n are hard to get th vibes for . i usually just walk away and take a break and smtimes have an epiphany and other times if ur rlly struggling just throw the whole colouring out and start again !! and if ur rlly rlly rlly struggling take a look at ur actual drawing again. smtimes if ur composition/ shading etc is weird it makes the colours go on wack bc u dont have a good foundation!!!!!

anyway i dont think i explained this well. go forth and colour ur brain is big etc

[vampykween]

hi mic :D

i just read your toxic!husband!ghost fics and would like to ask if u could write one where the reader just gives up on their relationship, maybe they finally file for divorce?

loved your writing btw! ♡

hi hi! thank u! i’m so glad y’all are enjoying toxichusband!ghost hehe

i hope i did your idea justice. i have a problem with just letting asks get away from me oops! but kiss ur brain for this idea cause i loved this! i get way too excited writing angsty stuff

you would realize you’ve had enough on the most random of days. after looking after your kids all day and finally getting your house cleaned, laundry all done. simon would come home and not even stop to greet you. he instantly strips from his fatigues and tosses them somewhere on the couch, turns on the tv to watch the game, and kicks up his feet and perches them on the clean coffee table. just the sight of him makes your blood boil. you make a mental note right then to talk to a divorce lawyer cause jesus you couldn’t take anymore of this.

you’ve been agonizing over doing this for the past week. hidden in your nightstand drawer was an envelope that was going to change your life forever, and not just yours, your children’s lives too. that thought has stifled your desire for a divorce just ever so slightly, as much as you can’t take a loveless marriage anymore you know your kids will be hurt by this.

you and simon are lounging in your bed and you’re losing your edge to serve him the papers. you’re worn out from cooking dinner and doing the usual nighttime routine with the kids. you suck in a deep breath and remind yourself that this decision is for the best; you don’t deserve to be chained down by someone who won’t appreciate you.

“simon…”

“yeah?” he doesn’t look up from whatever he’s engrossed in on his phone and you roll your eyes exasperatedly. you’re swiftly reminded why you’re in this position.

“i- um, we need to talk.” god your palms were sweaty and your heart was hammering in your chest. why was this so much harder than you thought it would be. simon still doesn’t give you his attention and you figure you should just rip the bandaid off already.

your shaky hands open the nightstand drawer and fish out the large yellow envelope you’ve been holding onto for the past week. you nudge his shoulder with enough force to get him to look up at you, and shove the envelope in his now free hand.

he quirks an eyebrow at you curiously, “the hell is this?”

you gulp painfully and whisper at him to just open it. his large digits tear open the paper easily and as he’s scanning through the lengthy paper, you can see it clear on his face the moment he realizes what’s happening. he turns his body fully towards yours and you can see the fury in his eyes.

“have you lost your fuckin’ head. why on earth would ya want a divorce?” the bass in your husband’s voice rattles his words around in your head, simon doesn’t yell often, but god do you hate it when he does.

“simon, i just can’t anymore.” his eyes bulge incredulously at your words, but you ignore his idiotic look and continue. “i’m constantly bending over backwards to do everything for this family and you don’t even appreciate it. hell it doesn’t feel like you love me at all.”

“fuckin’ hell. you think you’re the only one putting in work for this family. what do you think i’m doing all day? and when i’m deployed? ya think i’m just fuckin’ around for fun?”

“oh my- are you serious?! of course i know that you work hard to provide for this family. did you even listen to a word i just said? i have to nag you to clean, to do laundry, to stop giving the kids all the things i tell them they can’t have. i have to literally beg you to kiss me and take me on dates! you never tell me you love me anymore simon!”

the rage behind simon’s eyes dims and he grasps both your hands in his. “love. baby, please you can’t leave me. you’re right, you do so much for us all and i know im shit about saying thank you, but who’s going to do all the stuff ya do if you leave?”

your face starts to grow hot as you begin to boil over with anger. you rip your hands from his hold forcibly. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me! you can’t even convince me to stay because you love me. you want me here so i can do everything for you. you know what? fuck you! i’m so sorry your poor mommy is gone and you need someone to fill that void, and i was stupid enough to play that role for this long, but i’m not doing it anymore.”

“oh you’re a fuckin’ cunt for that. bringing up my mum, you’re fucked in the head!” simon barks at you. you should feel bad, it was a low blow, but you couldn’t care less.

you scramble out of the bed, storming around the room looking for a pen. you’re throwing open drawers with so much force they’re just a hair from ripping straight out. when you eventually find one, you thrust it into simon’s large hand.

“don’t fucking care. you’re an absolute piece of shit. sign the fucking papers, please, so i no longer have to hold back the urge to kill you with my bare hands.”

“what about the kids? you’re just gonna take them away from me?! if you do, i’ll spend every day trying to remind them they’ve got a right bitch for a mum,” simon sneers at you.

all the love you had for simon has vanished, but hearing him say he’d spend eternity making sure your kids hated you? that tore your heart in two. your throat begins to constrict as tears begin to build behind your eyes. you really didn’t want to cry in front of him, but you were suddenly hit with the realization that the life you dreamed of was never going to be real.

you think back to your wedding day, your husband had written the most beautiful vows, which shocked you as you hadn’t expected him to be able to express his love for you that way. he had promised to always make you feel like you deserved the world. suddenly you woke up one day and the man you once loved was gone, replaced by a shitty, co-dependent, workaholic who sucked out all the life in you.

in this moment, you simply prayed that one day, you wouldn’t feel like every choice you made lead to this terrible life you have now.

[keeksandgigz]

ugh maybe something angsty to fluffy with eddie , like nightmares or a silly argument turned too big leaving both in tears but then resolved

idk baby ugh i love ur writing tho !

aww stop i love u <3

this is literally my first ask ever im so excited!! hope u enjoy :)))

He knows better than to fall asleep.

The world lays still around him, the sound of lone crickets plays as his lullaby while he stares at his banged up ceiling.

Everytime he closes his eyes he feels like he's suffocating, still in the stuffy, dusty and slimy Upside Down, the blood at his throat almost choking him to death.

It's his first night alone back home. Him and Wayne had been cleared to go back earlier that September morning after spending a whole summer in a cramped infirmary on a small cot that made his feet stick out.

Noises of people snoring, talking, moving around. Even people crying and screaming in their sleep. You sleeping in the cot right next to him.

Your shoulders rising and falling. On nights where he couldn't sleep he'd count every breath you took, until his brain grew tired and fell victim to slumber.

But tonight there was just eerie quiet. No breaths to count except his own, shallow and irregular in his chest, as he tried not to focus too much on the way the skin of his naked chest stretched taut by the stitches given to him felt under his hand, casually resting there.

The faint white and red splotches of mangled skin felt funny under the touch of his hands. Even then, he tried to not touch them. He didn't like the way his body would retract from his own touch. Almost as if he was scared of himself.

He hadn't let you see them yet, everytime you hung out and reveled in each other's company never went further than a few risky kisses. Your hands traveling to the hem of his shirt being abruptly stopped by his fingers intertwined in yours, moving away from his waist.

It was silent, the way you understood his limits. He'd never let you know he wasn't comfortable, and you could not have possibly known what lied under the too- big shirt he'd taken from the donation box.

Tonight, though, he finds himself missing counting your breaths, imagining you back at home in the comfort of your bed. Are you awake too?

Sick and tired of thinking, closing his eyes only to see monsters behind his lids, the feeling of the crumpled, rough sheets under his back, he gets up. He slips a shirt on, along with a pair of pants and fishes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pockets of his jacket, perched carelessly on the chair.

He heads to the front porch. He closes the front door behind him, trying to keep quiet. Wayne's at work, but the habit of tiptoeing and whispering around after months of living in a communal space still stuck with him.

He sits on the stairs of his porch, letting the cigarette between his lips as he fights with the yellow lighter his dad had given him to start a spark.

"Fuck" he curses under his breath as the lighter proceeds to not produce a light. His breathing becomes uneven as his cheeks flush with anger. Frustrated, he tosses the lighter in the patch of grass in front of him. Useless fucking thing.

He doesn't even know why he still has it. The last time he'd seen his dad was over two years before. He'd never gone that long without a visit.

He's tempted to go in the kitchen and light up his cigarette with the stove, but Wayne didn't like him smoking inside. Instead he just sits there, unlit cigarette between his lips as he looks at a certain spot in the trailer park.

The same spot he'd almost died at.

He's so entranced by that one patch of dirt that he doesn't notice a car driving into the trailer park. His eyes diverting only when the headlights almost turn him blind.

It's you.

The car turns off and you come out of it, dressed in some cute pyjamas, a jacket that once belonged to Eddie covering you from the late September gale.

"Can't sleep either?" you say, staring at his dumbfounded face as you approach him on the wooden porch stairs.

"Too quiet. Missin' the old man who talked about cake in his sleep" he lets out a breathy laugh.

"My bed was too comfortable. My back is too fucked up from the cot, can't sleep on a soft mattress anymore. Missed having a bed next to yours, Munson" you nudge him, he just gives you a tight- lipped smile.

"Missed watching you breathe" he says, cautiously "Helped me sleep at night. I'd count every breath you took"

"Having any nightmares?" you ask, placing your head on his shoulder.

"Can't have nightmares if I'm awake. Everytime I close my eyes it's like I'm back in there, so I just.... don't sleep" he says, playing with the still unlit cigarette in his mouth.

The air is light between you two, an air of friendship, unweighted by your knowledge of what happened to him. You bring him relief, solace.

"Tell you what" you begin "you can light that cigarette with my car lighter, we split it, and then we go back inside and you can watch me breathe. So you can sleep" you blink up at him. He blinks at you back.

You offering to sleep with him in his bed wasn't something he'd have expected out of his life. Especially at this time of it.

All he does is nod as you take the cigarette from his lips and light it in your car, coming back with it already between your lips.

You're warm when you settle yourself next to him on the bed, under the rough blankets. The pillows smell like him. You inhale.

He doesn't know whether to hold you or leave you alone. He just opts to be a little closer to you as he lets you close your eyes. A weak "G'night, Munson" escapes you as you exhale and close your eyes.

He watches the silhouette of your shoulders rise and fall.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven...

He falls asleep before he can get to fifty.

[randomperson3736]

It's all my fault

Paring(s): Lo'ak x twin! Reader, Neteyam x sister! Reader, Neytiri x daughter! Reader, Jake sully x daughter! Reader, Tuk x sister! Reader, Kiri x sister! Reader, the sully's x reader

Genre: angst, kinda fluff

Warning(s): Character death, wounds, blood, crying, sad, fighting, get punched, swearing

Word bank: Y/N- your name, Ewya- great Mother

Notes: I am so sorry that this has taken so long for me to write/post and the reason for it is because I've been having some trouble finding ideas on how this part 2 is gonna go but thankfully I found some and I really hope u enjoy. Also I put a link to part 1 if Ur new to this mini series. P.S it was kinda rushed so it may suck.

(Listen to this while reading)👇👇👇

Part 1

TAG LIST: @sully-stick-together , @users09, @bobojojoba69 ---- I am so sorry I couldn't add some of the people who asked to be added 🙏

Y/N ran for what felt like forever, even though in reality it was just a few minutes. Tears stained her face but she didn't care about that since more kept rolling down from her yellow eyes. Her heart was pumping in chest, shallow breaths could be heard. She tripped on a fallen tree branch, her body trembling to the floor. Y/N didn't bother getting up, so she just curled up into a ball and sobbed. She thought back to the earlier event with Lo'ak. Never in her whole life had she seen him so angry, and never has he ever snapped at her once not even when she was annoying.

She felt like she had pushed too hard on him but deep deep down she knew it wasn't his fault, it was his. Soon her red, puffy eyes started to close as sleep took very quickly. Y/N could hear the soft breeze flowing though the trees and brushes, it also tickled her skin as her neck hairs stood up. But little did the young girl knew a massive Strom was coming and it wasn't just any ordinary Strom, this Strom started long before any one of her siblings were born this Strom has been going on for a long time. And it was ready for its revenge.

~timeskip~

Lo'ak didn't know where his twin was, no one did. His mother and Neteyam had been looking for her for atleast 2 hours and there has been no sign of her anywhere. Worry and guilt started to fill his stomach as his mind conjured up the worst case scenario. Her dead. Non-breathing Unmoving. Her blood everywhere. He tried to shake that thought off but it was still there lingering around the back of his mind.

In the background, he could hear Tuk crying as Kiri tried to comfort her but he knew she needed to be comfort juts as much. He knew it was his fault. He knew what he did was wrong and that he shouldn't have done it. He knew he needed to find her cause somewhere deep down in his stomach he knew where he was. So he slipped away making sure no one saw him as he ran off into the forest to find his twin.

~back to Y/N~

When she woke up again, she hadn't realised how long she had been asleep. Y/N didn't even know where she was. Suddenly large hands grabbed her, pulling her roughly up on her feet. She tried to scream but before she could cold metal touched her skin.

"You so much as scream or yell out for help... I'll blow your brains out" his voice was deep, sounded like he had no soul. Y/N just nodded not wanting to provoking him and possibly getting killed. She looked up to see atleast a glimpse of her so called kidnapper. She noticed the human like clothing he was wearing. He was an avatar. Probably from her father's past. She just hoped her father and mother or someone would find her before it becomes too late. But she knew that if someone didn't find her in time the worse will happen. So, she did the most stupid thing she has ever done. She bit down on his arm, hard. Very hard. The guy yelled out in pain before he turned around to face her. "You fucking bitch!"

The next thing she knew a loud bang could be heard and then everything went black.

~back to Lo'ak~

He could hear someone yelling in the distance, sounded human? He been in contact with fake Na'vi before and he definitely didn't like them. Lo'ak pulled at his knife, grip tight around it. He prayed to Ewya that Y/N was okay, she had to be, she needed to be. He couldn't lose her. She was the only one who understood him and never thought of him as a fake.

*BANG*

His head moved towards the direction of the loud bang, his briads covering his eye. His heart was beating so fast and so hard against his chest he thought it was going to pop out. He started to run towards the danger not caring about the out come he just needed to know that his twin, his ride or die wasn't at the end of that bullet.

A body soon came in view, it seemed to be covered in blood. As he got closer he finally saw who that body belong to. It was Y/N. His twin. His best friend. Tears started to form in his eyes as he pushed his legs faster. Faster to get to her. Faster to make sure she's live and not dead.

"Y/N!" Lo'ak's voice was shaking, fear feeling his stomach. He dropped om to his knees hard. Probably gonna leave a couple cuts on it but he didn't care all he cared about is her. "L-lo'ak?" Her was so quite, also like a whisper. He carefully moved her head onto his lap, making sure to put pressure on the gun shot wound on her lower abdomen. She let out a pained sob as more pain shot through her body. "Sorry, sorry. I know it hurts but I have to put pressure on it"

Y/N just started up at him still trying to process what happened just a few minutes ago. Her eyes slowly started to feel heavy but she tried to fight it just for a little longer. "Keep your eyes open" he spoke sternly, panting as he desperately spoke to her. Fixing his hand on her bleeding wound to try and stop the blood from leaving her body. Not once had she seen him look so vulnerable, so desperate. "Stay with me, don't-don't close your eyes" his voice was laced with something unfamiliar, a tone which Y/N had never from him before. Desperation was it? No, it was something more, something more painful.

"Y/N damn it" he cursed under his breath, holding her limp body now on his lap. His voice now filled with panic, "Please" that one word. That very word seemed to be so much more painful than the wound on her stomach, was it his tone? Was it the way he said it? Or was it the way his eyes looked, the way his eyes stained with tears.

Y/N could barely think, but everything looked clear despite the tears that clouded her eyes. The pain in her heart was greater than the pain from her stomach. Y/N wasn't ready, she wasn't ready to leave him, not ready to leave her family, not when she still had so much to live for. "Lo'ak" her weak voice called out for him. Perhaps his mind was playing a trick on him but he saw that same old smile om her face, a weak smile but it was still the same. "No" he cuts Y/N off, he couldn't hear what she was about to say, he refused to. Lo'ak knew exactly what she was planning in saying and he's far from accepting it. "Save your energy, don't-"

"I'm sorry, L-lo'ak"

"Y/N you can't, I can't" tears started to fall faster down his face now. "I'm the one who should be sorry, you have nothing-" Y/N cut him off by placing her hand on his cheek, wiping the tears that slipped away. "No. You don't have to apologise, Lo'ak" he cried quietly, but he felt everything all at once at that moment. Nuzzling his face into her now cold hand, weeping uncontrollably, no caring about who saw. "I can't do this without you. I-i'm so sorry about yelling at you, I d-didn't mean too just please don't leave me"

"Y/N please" he pleads, but he knew she was growing more weak by the clock. "Lo'ak. Y-you have to let me go" her hand slipped from his face as her eyes relaxed as her pupils widened, the blood stopped gushing out from the wound on her stomach and her heart stopped just as her chest went flat with her very last breath. "Y/N?" He looked down at her now limp body. "Y/N?! NO, NO, NO! PLEASE!" Lo'ak let out a pained scream, a scream that could be heard from the village. That scream got the attention of his family, making them run off into a sprint trying to find the source of the pained scream.

Neteyam and Jake were the first ones on scene and the site in front of them made their whole worlds come crashing down in one blow. Jake's body went numb, his expressen was emotionless, but his eyes told another story as tears rolled down his face. He started at his daughter, he couldn't except the fact that his babygirl was gone for good. He could hear his family's sobs from beside him, as he watched Lo'ak pulled his twin closer to his chest begging for some sort of sign that she was still alive but he knew that she was with Ewya now. "Y/N NO PELASE! OH, GREAT MOTHER PLEASE!" Lo'ak's voice was scratchy, shouting Y/N's name over and over again. His sobs were loud and controllable, he cried out for their great Mother begging her to bring his twin back. But deep down he knew she was never coming back. Neytiri moved closer to their son and fallen daughter, taking her limp hand into her own trying to find that familiar warmth that was always there but it cold.

Neteyam moved to sit next to Lo'ak with Y/N's unmoving body still in his lap. Neteyam knew that he and thier father had to move her body but he was frozen in place. He couldn't process it, no one could. He watched his father moved slowly towards Lo'ak to try and get their sister out of his grip. But surprisingly Lo'ak let go without trying to fight it. He looked so empty, almost like a shell you find at beach. It broke Neteyam's heart to see his brother like it but he knew he couldn't do anything to help with the pain Lo'ak was feeling m.

Neteyam watches as his mother sobs and screams over their loss as his tears fall onto his little sister's thigh. He places his hand on lo'ak's shoulder trying to comfort him in some way, but he knew that even himself couldn't stop the feeling of emptiness in his heart cause he too had that exact same hole in his. Lo'ak started at his shaking hands that were covered in his twin's blood. His head tilts back as he realised he just lost his twin sister, the one person who was always there for him when he had a nightmare or when their father would yell at him. She was the one soul that never thought of him as a freak or as an outcast and now she was gone. All beacuse of him. She was died because of his stupid mistake.

~sad bonus~

(Set four weeks after Y/N's death)

Lo'ak barely slept or ate, and even if he did he would just wake up screaming or throw up the food he actully ate. Neteyam and Kiri had tried over and over again to try and get him to atleast sleep for a few hours or eat something even if it was small. But everything they tried didn't work. Lo'ak just stayed in the same stop, staring out at the ocean, not moving an inch. This concerned the whole family but they knew in time that he would heal.

After everyone had left Lo'ak tried to get some sleep knowing that Y/N wouldn't want him to do this. He smiled for the first time in weeks at the thought first her yelling at him about this is unhealthy and that he could die too young. His eyes soon fall as sleep took over his mind. When he woke up he was in a dark room with only one bit of light and under that light was a young women just around his age or maybe Neteyam's.

"Hello?" He called out to the mysterious lady but only to get ignored. Until she turned around. Lo'ak's eyes widened in shock as tears started to form. His legs started to move on their own as they walked towards her. Y/N. His beloved twin.

"Y/N"

"Don't"

"It's not your fault, Lo'ak"

"..." lo'ak looked down at his feet and stared to play with his finger, a trent he had picked up from her when she died. "You have to let me go"

"I can't- I won't hear you out"

"Lo'ak, please"

"Just- just a little bit longer. Let me hold onto you for just for little bit longer. Please" the tears he had been holding onto finally fall, rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want to let her go cause if he let her go he wouldn't be able to see her smile or hear a laugh again. "Lo'ak I'm dead. Let me go"

"No, no, no please- please don't let me leave. I need to be here with you" his voice held so much pain as his spoke. Y/N just turned her body to the face the other way and started to walk away. "Wait-" before he could get the words out a strong wing started to blow him away, pulling him back into reality once again.

Neteyam had just came back from the beach to check on Lo'ak and see if he had moved from his spot. He was just about to walk in when he heard a loud sob from inside. Without thinking Neteyam ran inside to find lo'ak gripping his chest, his breath heavy, tears rolling down his face. Neteyam felt his heart break even more from the site infront of him. He couldn't stand to see his little brother like this. None of them could.

Without thinking he moved towards Lo'ak and pulled him into his chest, hugging him tight. He shushed his brother and whispered sweet things in his ear trying to calm him down. Lo'ak just held onto his brother as he cried out for his twin to come back. But he knew she was never coming back.

[ambcass]

INVINCIBLE X MALE READER BRO IT COULD BE ANYTBING HERO X VILLAIN OLS IM CRHIGN MY EYES OUT

hello everypony. this is my brother. he decided to SPAM my inbox for a fanfic for his twink. as the amazing sister I am I will write smth for him (after 1.5 weeks of this sitting in my inbox) I'll make a pt.2 if u want

"No, it can't be. You can't be *villain name*." is the same thing every guy you've dated said after you told them about your secret. The truth is, the world classified you as a villain. Everyone watching the news considered you a cold, no-good killing machine.

Being a villain with telepathy, telekinesis, fire abilities, and mind-altering powers is never a good mix for anyone! Would you kill your ex's after finding out you're a villain? No, you cared too much for them. Altering their mind until you erase yourself from their minds and everyone they knew.

This time is different. You met a dorky-looking boy with slicked-back dark hair and blue eyes on your first day at Reginald Vel Johnson High School. You two had chemistry together, and the second you stepped foot in that class, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were so handsome in his eyes. He told William all about you every since! Crazy how much someone can be so obsessed with someone even without mind-altering.

Did you notice at first? No. Bad as feelings as you were, you could not give a fuck about Mark. He didn't interest you in any way until one day.

You were not in a good mood that day at all. Last night you were running off rooftops, trying to escape the hero in yellow and blue. You got away by creating a firewall and going into his mind, making him forget why he was there in the first place. This stunned him and you receive plenty of time to escape. The next, you got to Chem and sat behind Mark and William's lab table. You close your eyes and rest your head on the table while using your arms as support.

"*Name*? Him? The boy behind us?" William's words caught your attention. You looked up and glared at the two. Intrigued, you pretended to sleep. Keeping out for what they were about to say. Mark forcefully turned William's head,

"Noooo. Why would it be! You're so funny! hahaha," Mark grinned awkwardly. He grabbed William's face and spoke quietly but loud enough for you to hear. "Of course it's *name* you moron! Don't say it out loud-" You cut him off.

"Will you two stop talking about me?" you asked. Mark's face turned tomato red as he sank to his chair in embarrassment. Both William and Mark would look back at you but Mark would just stare at you, smiling. "Okay. Creepy...but he's kinda cute." You smiled softly.

Time past by and you couldn't stop wondering why they were talking about you! It's not like you actually knew them. Your eyes lit up as a idea was formed. If he wouldn't tell you, then why not find out for yourself. A smirk appeared on your face. "He wouldn't mind if I just- " Focusing on Mark's mind, you wonder why he's been staring at you ever since your first day, why he's talking about you like he's got some type of crush on you.

"I really like *name* but don't know how to tell him. He seems cool and I want to be closer to him but I'm scared he will shut me out... I have to tell him how I feel eventually. Right?" You're shocked. Lost for words even. Were you flattered? Maybe. It's been a while since you've been in a romantic relationship. This might be it.

A few minutes before class was about to end, an idea came to your mind. Why not give Mark some help confessing to you? Was it wrong? Yes. Did you care? No. You focused on his mind again. First, you thought of Mark confessing to you. Then, you sent it off to his brain. Lastly, you watch everything come into play. The bell rang and you packed up your stuff. Mark was lost in a trance while William was trying to figure out what was going on.

"Earth to Mark! Hellooo? Is anyone home?" You walked past the two without saying a word but stopped at the door frame. Mark snapped out of it and sprung up from his seat with a joyous smile. William raised his brows to an overly happy Mark. "Hey, are you okay-" William was cut off,

"I think I'm gonna do it, Will. I think I'll tell him how I feel."

[sunshinesteviee]

absolutely smitten - r.b.

summary: robin asks you if she can paint your nails, and you return the favor; robin buckley x reader wc: 1.9k warnings: nothing but fluff a/n: my bisexual ass felt the need to write a lil fluff with robin, and a wonderful anon gave me this idea!! i've never written robin before, so be kind pls lol i'm still figuring her out! if you have any constructive criticism/feedback, i'd love to hear it! big thank u to @familyvideostevie for reading this before i posted it ily. i hope y'all enjoy xoxo

Masterlist

You’re laying on the floor on your stomach, legs stretched out behind you as you sort through all of your nail polish bottles. You have entirely too many, several shades of every color in the rainbow and beyond, and you can’t decide which one you want to use. Letting out a dramatic sigh, you press your cheek into your fist as you glance up to your bed where Robin is sitting. She’s pretending to leaf through one of your magazines, doing a terrible job of acting like she hadn’t been watching you. Smiling to yourself, you call her name, “Robin?”

“Huh?” she startles, closing the magazine a bit too quickly as she peers over the edge of the bed to look down at you, “Yeah?”

“What color should I paint my nails?” you ask, gesturing to the bottles laid out on the rug, pushing your lips out into a small pout, “I have too many, I can’t decide.”

“Hmm…” she trails off, and you can practically see her brain moving a thousand miles a minute, even just to suggest a nail polish color for you. Her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth, deep in thought, before reaching down to point to one of the colors, “Maybe that one?”

It’s a soft buttercup yellow, and you’re not at all surprised by her choice. You know without a doubt that it’s her favorite color on you; even before you’d admitted your feelings for each other, she never failed to compliment you when you were wearing the color. Your fingers brush hers as you reach down to grab the bottle, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “Yeah, okay. I like that color.”

“Me too,” she murmurs in reply, sitting back up on the bed. You can see a faint blush dusting over her freckled cheeks from where you’re sitting and you can’t help but grin as you sit up and then give the small bottle a shake before untwisting the top. Just as you’re about to swipe the paint over your first nail, she speaks up again, “Wait, can I… umm can I do it?” She looks nervous, as if you might turn her down. 

“You wanna paint my nails for me?”

“I mean, i-if that’s okay with you. If not, that’s fine, but I—”

“Of course, Robs,” you nod, cutting off her nervous rambling in an attempt to soothe her, “Can I pick a color and paint your nails after?”

The smile that breaks out on Robin’s face is contagious — it always is, though — and she nods quickly, climbing off of the bed to settle onto the floor across from you, “Sure. Just nothing neon, that’s too distracting for me.”

“Deal,” you nod, holding your pinky out to her. Her pinky is wrapped around yours in seconds, and you both lean in, pressing a kiss to the other’s finger softly. Before she can pull back, you lean up towards her, lips just barely ghosting over the high point of her cheekbone softly. Another blush springs onto the apples of her cheeks almost immediately as you pass the bottle of nail polish to her and scoot back to make more room. 

“Uhh…” Robin is dazed, but then again, it’s a pretty constant feeling for her when she’s near you. It’s a wonder she can ever function around you and your pretty smile. After a moment, she shakes her head and clears her throat, scooting down to be closer as she starts to ramble again, “I mean, just so you know… well, you know I don’t paint my nails very often, so I’m not very good at it, but I promise I’ll try my best to be careful. And I won’t get any on the rug! Probably.”

“Robin, you’ll do fine,” you assure her, handing the color back to her and holding your hands out, palms facing the floor. 

She nods again after a moment, taking your hand into hers gently. There’s a moment of hesitation, but then she lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, causing you to push your hot cheek into your shoulder, nearly shying away from the gesture. Your relationship is still brand new, and you rarely engage in PDA seeing as you live in Hawkins, so any time Robin is affectionate, your whole body feels like it’s on fire. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything as she dips the brush into the polish, wiping the excess off onto the rim of the bottle before carefully brushing over the nail on your index finger carefully. 

It’s quiet in your room, save for the music that’s playing quietly from the cassette player that sits near your window. You’re humming along quietly, barely audible, with the music as you watch Robin work diligently. Your usually loud and talkative girlfriend is quiet as she concentrates; you’ve quickly learned you just need to give her something to focus on to calm her racing mind. She’s sitting with one knee bent up so she can rest your hand on it, and her other leg is tucked underneath. You can feel her breath, warm against your skin, she’s sitting so close with her head ducked down to see clearly as she moves onto painting the third nail. Your favorite part, though, is that she’s concentrating so hard that the tip of her tongue is poking out of the side of her mouth. 

Something inside of your chest is bursting as you watch her, the warm feeling of admiration curling and twisting inside of you. Around your heart and lungs and rib cage. Maybe even your spleen, though you have no idea where that is in your body, or what it does. Robin could tell you, though, you’re sure of that much. You know you’re grinning like a fool as she looks up, having finished painting one of your hands, but you don’t have it in you to care. You really like her. 

“Okay, the first hand is done! It’s not terrible, but don’t get me wrong, it’s not good. I’ll do your other hand now. I—“ she trails off when she notices you staring, “What? Did I mess it up?”

You shake your head quickly, “No! I just… you’re really cute when you’re concentrating, Robs. I really like you.”

The blush on her cheeks is back with a vengeance, the pink nearly overtaking the pretty freckles dotted all over her face. She lets out an embarrassed squeak of a laugh as her smile takes up her entire face. You’re thinking about how much you want to kiss her when she smiles like that, and it seems she’s in your head, because she leans forward, planting one hand on the rug between you, the other coming up to cup your cheek gently. Her eyes flick between yours and then your lips before she closes the small space between you, nose nudged into yours, lips soft against your own. You’re not sure you’ll ever get over the feeling of kissing her. 

Your hand moves practically on its own accord, coming up to slip into her hair, but before you can get anywhere close, Robin pulls back quickly, eyes wide. Slightly startled, worried something is wrong, you give her a confused look. Her long fingers wrap around your wrist delicately, yanking it away from her hair, “Don’t ruin all my hard work!”

“Jesus!” you gasp, lips pushing out into a pout, upset that she’d broken off the kiss much too early, “I thought something was wrong!”

“Sorry,” she gives you a sheepish smile, “It’s just, your nails aren’t dry yet and I don’t want them to smudge. Let me do your other hand. The sooner I do it, the sooner they’ll dry, and the sooner I can kiss you again.”

You can’t argue with that logic and mumble in agreement, letting Robin take your other hand and get back to work. Just before she brushes the paint over your nail, her eyes flash up to yours with a grin, and she leans forward to quickly peck your lips again. 

A comfortable quiet falls over the two of you again as Robin goes back to concentrating on painting your nails as cleanly as she can. You can’t help yourself when you lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead as she runs her own nail along the edge of yours to clean up some of the paint. When she’s done her head pops back up as she twists the top back onto the bottle, “Okay, I’m done.”

You hold your hands up, admiring the soft yellow adorning your nails and nod as you glance up at Robin, “It looks good, Robs. Can I still paint yours?”

“Yeah,” she nods quickly, more than willing to make you happy however she can. But then she adds, “When yours are dry.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, lips twisting into a smile. You begin sorting through the colors, trying to pick something for her she wouldn’t normally choose. Robin doesn’t wear nail polish often, but when she does, it’s always something dark, usually black or dark blue. Part of you wants to choose something crazy and paint her nails bubblegum pink, but you know she’d be itching to take it off way too soon. 

After a few moments, you pick one of your reds. It’s not a dark red that she might pick, but rather something a bit brighter, more of a scarlet color. You hold it up to her, silently asking if she’s okay with it as you wait for her reaction. She nods, grateful that it isn’t hot pink or neon blue or something that totally isn’t her. 

It isn’t as quiet as you paint her nails — with a lot more precision — as she tells you about her day. You’re listening intently as she rambles on about band practice and how she almost lost the mouthpiece for her trumpet, and before you have time to reply, is jumping to a different story about something stupid Steve said at work. She’s still talking by the time you’re finished, but you let her keep going, absolutely enamored with how animated she could get. It isn’t until she pauses and finds you watching her, your chin resting on your knees, that she pauses, cheeks flushing instantly, “Oh, sorry, I’m doing it, aren’t I? I’m rambling again.”

“It’s okay, I like listening to you.”

Robin smiles bashfully, head tilting to one side as she lifts her hands to look at the color of her nails, “Ugh, you did a much better job than me.”

“Well, I should hope so,” you tease. 

She looks up from her hands, gaping at you, “Rude!”

You dissolve into giggles, shifting so you’re laying on the floor on your back. Lifting your hands so the palms are facing the ceiling, you admire Robin’s work, “No, they’re really not that bad, love.”

Her hand appears in the air next to yours as she shifts to lay down on her back next to you, and while you’re in the middle of nitpicking your work, her hand slides into yours smoothly. Her fingers slip between the spaces of yours, interlocking together as she drags your hands down, the back of your hand pressing to her chest, still mindful of your sticky nails. 

When you turn your head to look at her, she’s already staring at you, messy bangs falling into her face. You’re impossibly close, so close you could count each individual freckle on her face if you wanted. You move in the tiniest bit closer, the tip of your nose nudging into hers. Before your lips can meet, she murmurs, “I really like you, too, by the way.”

[gatalentan]

can u actually go over the significance of the sunflowers on the work wives’ table again? I think I missed it the first time and it sounds interesting

You have activated my trap card. Here is my thesis on the Work Wives Sunflowers.

Ok, I want to preface this by saying this is totally just a little bit of fun, and I am not totally deluded as to think this is A Thing. I have no expectations about this ship being canon, or there being Secret Meanings. It's more spotting a pattern and running with it. However, similarly - there is symbolism in this show in terms of costuming and set design, such as Janine's "love" necklace appearing and disappearing during story beats, writing on the teachers' boards being plot-relevant, etc, so it's not me being totally outlandish! For nearly 30 consecutive there hasn't been any decorations on the table, only practical items like salt, pepper, a basket of leaflets/condiments, a napkin holder etc (with the exception of Pilot, where the tables were in a different configuration, the WW are at a different table and all the tables have a little plant). For eg, here is all of S1:

In Fire, the table was damaged during a lapse of Barbara's mental health, where she became very insular with her own internal pain and didn't reach out to Melissa about it. It goes without saying that in the WW lore this table is basically a second home. The only time either of them sits anywhere else is when they fight, when Melissa ends up "sleeping on the couch" (other tables). This table getting damaged was a huge deal to Barbara and an inciting incident in her finally telling Melissa about Gerald's health problems and how it was upsetting her.

The table obviously had to be replaced after the fire damage, and was. In Teacher Conference, there is a new table, and a little bouquet has appeared, which stays through the next episode Mural Arts, squirreled away behind all the dinner paraphernalia.

But in Teacher Appreciation, the sunflowers appeared, huge and bright, two of them, a centrepiece, right there from the cold open.

An episode which, as we know, was a massive turning point in their relationship, where they fought, traded some really, really low blows that cut deep, but this time apologised on screen and reconciled - and one in which Barbara is wearing bright yellow when they do.

Immediately my squirrelly little brain started making connections about this, because they're SO bright and LARGE and PROMINENT and there wasn't any prominent decoration on the table before. My initial thought was oh, it's teacher appreciation day, this can be dismissed easily as just a gift from one of the kids. But we saw a lot of gifts being given to them all in this ep, and the flowers aren't among them. It was @cdyssey who made the stitch for me that this is probably Barbara christening/homecoming the table/the physical manifestation of their friendship/relationship after her lapse damaged it in an episode which re-cements their connection after the events of Fire, and in an episode where their bond is tested. Flowers are her thing. It has to be Barbara.

We also haven't seen any other gift that was given become a recurring feature. They are always facing the wide-angle camera, two bright faces for the two of them in the configuration they always sit in, side by side. Barbara Howard, who loves flowers, no doubt has read up on flower language before. Sunflowers are representative of "silent love, loyalty, admiration, arrogance and unspoken love". This was, without a doubt, a deliberate choice, and so, so thematically relevant for not only the unspoken but incredibly strong bonds of their relationship (platonic, romantic or otherwise), but also the arrogance for which Barbara (and Melissa) took their relationship (and the symbolism of their shared table) for granted in the episode where they appeared, and in Fire where she didn't open up to Melissa and share her pain.

The sunflowers are a physical manifestation of what Barbara feels about her relationship with Melissa, and the sanctuary that is their second home: the table. A safety and enduring loyalty that has lasted decades and seen countless other colleagues and friendships and even Melissa's marriage come and go. For each other, they are a reliable, ever-present constant, a beam of sunlight no matter what they are weathering together. The sunflowers stayed on the table for the following episode, disappeared 2x20 when Melissa was sat at the table alone (and was stressed and unmoored the whole episode), and the reappeared in 2x21, when the WW returned to the table again. And not only reappearing, but reappearing in a yellow outfit.

This cements to me that this is Barbara bringing them in each Monday - when she doesn't come into the lounge, the flowers aren't there.

As an addendum, I haven't re-checked the full series proper, but another time sunflowers have appeared in relation to WW is during another turning-point scene in 1x06, the "maybe this is it for me" scene with Barbara, Melissa & Gerald eating lunch that leads to Barbara encouraging Melissa to date again... but which also contains this look, where Barbara's mask nearly, fully slips one of the most significant times in the whole series and is a foundational moment in WW ship lore. Again, there are two sunflowers in this scene.

Yes, this whole thing is me being a delulu girl. Yes, it's me making tenuous connections for a non-canon ship and making a meal out of scraps. Yes, I fully enjoy this little theory and subscribe to it, and welcome anyone else to play around in the mud with me, too. If you wanna take this idea for fic etc, GO GO GO!

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.