#no plot in this one whatsoever

[withbroombefore]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, Conversations, Trans Male Character, Trans Character, Nonbinary Character, Agender Character, Trans Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Trans Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Trans Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Trans Male Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Trans Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Nonbinary Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, t4t, Reincarnation Vibes, Podfic Welcome Series: Part 2 of Glass Summary:

“I wasn’t like this, you know,” Wei Ying says. “Before.”

[sesamestreep]

“requiem for methuselah” crazy ass episode for many reasons. Kirk is being fully insane, like I don’t actually think, even controlling for how quickly and easily and readily he seems to fall in love with anybody at the slightest encouragement, that he’d go that bonkers for that android woman he just met while everyone on the ship was this close to dying, but that’s neither here nor there, because in the background you’ve got an equally but much more subtly insane episode for Spock, who extremely uncharacteristically admits to experiencing an emotion (or nearly experiencing, whatever) and that emotion is ENVY of all things. And then spends the rest of the episode warning Kirk away from this new love interest (something that doesn’t usually happen, even when Kirk has very inadvisable love interests) and is, in the end, the person who accurately identifies that Rayna’s competing love for Kirk and Flint is ultimately what overwhelms and destroys her with the most killer line in maybe history???

And then to wrap it up we get an equally uncharacteristic sort of denouement scene (TOS loooves to cut an episode off right after the actual climax, leaving little time for falling action or character reflection, or to stick a sitcom-y button on the end where the gang all smiles and laughs at their misadventures and everything resets to zero, which is not a criticism, it’s just the style of that era of tv, honestly) where Kirk is literally miserable over Rayna’s death (again, kind of unusual for a lot of his love interests, he tends to be able to move on pretty quickly) and Spock goes to see him and he falls asleep right in front of Spock (also odd) and then when Bones comes in to give the final word on Flint, Spock waves him off from waking the Captain (tender) and Bones gives him that awful speech about how it’s sadder that Spock can’t even imagine the love Kirk felt for this random android woman than it is that Kirk lost her in the first place (debatable but also rude) and how his great tragedy is that he can’t love at all like they can and how all he wishes is that Kirk could forget about all of this and move on. AND THEN, to have Bones leave and Spock go over to Kirk and very gently, tenderly, reluctantly touch him and put his hand to his forehead and tell him to forget and HAVE THAT BE THE END OF THE EPISODE??? What am I supposed to do with that??

[blujayonthewing]

[pixel-axel]

i haven’t been able to read the grandest game yet but if grayson has a love interest in that book i’m gonna throw hands

[daily-whistlepaw]

daily whistlebreeze until spo becomes PoV day 1398

I like seeing how different I can make gray cats by throwing Whis at them; anyways, Spotfur's been on my mind tonight

[tortilla-of-courage]

mmmnmgngh.... zelda

[abigail]

my mom who says she hates horror and violence in movies made me watch movies like from dusk till dawn, seven, pulp fiction and saw when i was a child and now she wonders why i love horror and violence in movies as an adult like……. ok.

[dirt-str1der]

Im super charmed whenever they include tsukasas corpse inside the freezer its so funny to me ... that man is not in cryostasis he is straight up dead

[multiversxwhore]

Stargirl Interlude

a/n: this is plotless pointless sensual smut, if you can call it that. The tip is barely in, but you feel it none the less. The inspiration behind it, Stargirl Interlude by The Weeknd ft Lana Del Rey. I wrote this while I was bored at work today…yes I wrote this whole thing in four fours. It’s not the best work, but it’s not supposed to be lol. Anywho enjoy, repost, and reblog here on tumblr only please.

Warning: public sex, unprotected sex, nsfw content, minors DNI.

Tags: @cardierreh15 @miyuhpapayuh @tchallasbabymama @chaneajoyyy @mochachocolatteyaya @michaelmajors @michaelbwriting

Johnathan Majors x plus size black girl

Word count: 797

“Andrea, how are you this evening?” The interviewer asked, I gripped the mic in my hand nervously as I smiled through my awkwardness. It was a bit hard to focus with all the chatter, and cameras going. My heart thundered behind my ribcage, this shit was bizarre, I hit autopilot quickly before I started to spiral any deeper.

“Oh I’m great, how are you? Everyone looks fabulous, I just seen Angela Bassett, and I cried. Then I ran into Brandon Frazier, he said some very kind words to me that I will sobb about later.” Which was all true, it was one starstruck incident after the other, I knew tomorrow when I woke up this would all feel like a fever dream.

“I would be lying when I say I’m jealous—

I didn’t hear anything after that point. I knew this was a bad time to get caught gawking, but there was only one man that could make me break character. When his eyes looked up from adjusting his suit they instantly locked on to me, and he pinned to my spot. Now I’m reminded of the slick mess he left between my thighs in the bathroom before we got to the carpet.

‘Fuck you eat it so good baby’ I moaned heavily his strong hands gripped onto my cheeks as he kept them spread apart to make room for his face. His tongue swiped back and forth over my clit until I came leaking onto his mouth.

“Look who it is! Jonathan Majors, what a lovely surprise, now all we need is the rest of the cast from LoveCraft and the set will be complete.” The interview chuckled, bless her heart for talking over my ‘episode’ because I was not recovering any time soon. It wasn’t until he touched my elbow did I jolt out of my haze, automatically jumping back into gear, I beamed up at him. He wasn’t smiling, nor was he putting on a facade, it was one thing I loved and hated about him. He didn’t give a fuck, he wasn’t going to explain himself, and you could kiss his ass for all he cared.

“Look at you all dressed up! All shiny and would not.” I said playfully, he looked down at me, a hint of a smirk on his lips, and his gaze turned on to me. The interviewer nonexistent to the both of us, his hand held mine as he went on with such laudatory remarks.

“Me? You’re the one literally a cute little gumdrop, the shoes have roses on them, and let me tell you, you look stunning.” He stepped back to give me a once over taking my hand and holding it up above my head.

“Give the people a twirl.” He smiled, the paparazzis went wild as they shouted praises, and compliments at me, then my mind jumped back to an hour ago. ‘Turn that ass around let me hit it from the back real quick.’ He breathed heavily, it was no time to be cute, the goal was to hit it, then nut. And hit it he did, I bent over the bathroom sink; he teased me with the tip as he caressed my slippery entrance. The last time we fucked was nearly two months ago, readjusting to his size again was a bit of a task. ‘Goddam Jay, almost forgot how big that dick is.’

I snapped out of it in time to see how he was watching me, shit eating grin stretched across those delicious thick lips. Fuck him, and his lips— ‘fuck me, fuck me, oh fuck.’ I moaned as his hips thrusted into me roughly making my pussy throb in a good way. Jonathan wrapped an arm around my shoulder as he pulled me in close so that the photographers could get a few pictures. He turned his head to my ear, speaking in a hushed tone so only I could hear, “what’s wrong, dick got you speechless?” He chuckled darkly, Inlressed my lips together fighting the urge to giggle, I could feel the corners of my lips turning upward against my own will. When I finally mustered the ability to say something his manager was pulling him away from me so that they could move further down the carpet. I looked past him to see Micheal, and Tessa waving at us.

“See you tonight baby girl.” He whispered, then brought my hand up to his lips kissing my knuckles like a gentleman. That gesture sent the photographers into a frenzy as they snapped as many photos as they could, that would for sure make the papers. He waved a hand towards the photographers then walked off towards his Creed cast mates. My skin still tingled where his fingers touched me, yet again I was left utterly breathless, this time he barely touched me.

[franeridan]

reading volume 105 and I had forgotten we actually got mihawk's bounty and on page acknowledgement that he's a better swordsman than shanks??? they have half a billion difference in bounty mihawk's is still over half a billion above luffy's this is absolutely fantastic to me for many many reasons but especially because by god zoro seriously fought him ten volumes in. he really tried to fight someone with three times king's bounty with only one named sword and three weeks of experience as a pirate. he actually left his village at age sixteen specifically looking for him and went up to him at age nineteen convinced he was gonna win. and he had the guts to complain about mihawk using the butter knife to fight him too how is he alive he's so lucky mihawk felt like adopting that day

[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

.

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[fitpacs]

?

[opalsiren]

every time i re-watch season three i'm like bella's character isn't THAT poorly developed surely she has a few episodes focused solely on her character alone and not her mind-numbing will-they-won't-they thing with the guy who invented having no boundaries. and every single time without fail i am proven wrong!!

[seasonal-writes]

“i ain’t ever liked sweets (till you sugar coated my teeth)” (AO3 Link is here!<3) pairing: jimmy / tango cw: kisses, neck kissing (which, among a few other things, makes me label this one as mildly suggestive! nothing TOO bad happens, but just be aware.) happy valentine’s day, everyone! i wrote this very self-indulgent, plotless, tiny valentine’s day fluff one-shot for the ranchers. because i’m a sap. yeah. ya’ll are probably so sick of my rancher fic posting but SORRY i am ROTTING over them, alright?? at this point, it’s turning into my brand. anyway. i hope you guys enjoy! :D thanks for reading and all the support recently! p.s. the title is from “Sugar Rush” by Addison Grace! <3 ~ “Uhh, alright- now we need to add a cup and a half of sugar..” Jimmy reaches across the kitchen island for the white and pink bag, sitting in a cluster with the other varying ingredients. He grabs it with one hand and hauls the heavy paper bag down, landing with a dull thud against the counter. Pulling it open at the top, he’s about to find a measuring cup, only for Tango to hold it out for him.

Jimmy smiles warmly and takes it from him.“Thank you.” “Mhmm,” Tango hums, grabbing the cookbook splayed out in front of them and pulling it close. On the page, there’s a picture of a very pink cake. It’s decorated perfectly, with curly piped frosting and cut strawberries tracing the heart shape of it. The book itself is a little old, some of the edges of the pages folded in and yellowing. Right at the top of the page, Valentine’s Day Chocolate Cake: A perfect treat for you and your special someone! He feels like laughing. So corny. Tango’s eyes fall onto the steps of the recipe. “Hey, did you preheat the oven?” “No, um- Can you-?” Jimmy asks, focusing hard on the tedious movement of the heaping cup to the bowl placed between the two of them. “I’m on it!” Tango says, turning around and heading for the oven just behind them. In doing so, he bumps Jimmy’s elbow, making the heaping cup of sugar jerk to the side. Jimmy lets out a tiny squeak, and some of the sugar is cast onto the workspace. “Tango!” Jimmy exclaims, though he snorts, “Careful!” Tango’s shoulders jerk up, turning back to look at Jimmy with gritted teeth. “Oops, sorry..” He quickly presses a few buttons, setting the oven to a toasty 350 degrees before coming back and joining Jimmy, careful to avoid getting too close this time—though, their shoulders still brush. He doesn’t want to be too far away, of course. Tango watches Jimmy pour in another cup of sugar, the sparkling white dust building up the tiny hill of ingredients forming in the bright red bowl. Jimmy’s face is something like a determined child’s, his tongue lightly peeking out with furrowed eyebrows as he leans over the cookbook. His eyes scan over it intently. “Lookin’ good, chef Jimmy,” Tango says. Jimmy’s tongue disappears as he breaks from his focus, head turning to him, a goofy smile appearing. “Thanks. You’re quite the assistant, yourself.” Tango finds himself leaning in, getting onto his tippy toes as he attempts to steal a quick kiss. Jimmy, at first, looks like he’s going to meet him halfway—but instead, turns his face and looks back down to the bowl, leaving Tango with puckered lips and a furrowed brow. “Nice try, love. Cake first.” Tango lets out a long, pathetic-sounding whine as he falls back onto his heels roughly. “What do you mean?” he asks, puffing out his bottom lip as he’s ignored, “It’s Valentine’s Day!” Jimmy shakes his head, grabbing the vanilla extract. Tango doesn’t stop his job, which he has decided is handing Jimmy things when he needs them, so he holds out the spoon despite his pity party. “I knoooow,” Jimmy says, graciously taking the spoon and pouring the sweet-smelling extract into it, “I just don’t wanna get distracted. And you know that’s what’ll happen.” Tango shrugs a little. Okay, fair. They definitely had a tendency to distract each other. It’d be something completely innocent or non-related, like Tango at his workbench or Jimmy trying to work on something in the barn and well.. one thing leads to another. Maybe it was the lingering “honeymoon” phase, maybe it was because there was a mutual, un-tethered obsession with each other. Who could tell? But Tango couldn’t help it, not today. Even Tango was not impenetrable to the forces of Valentine’s Day. The cheesiness infects you from dawn to dusk, and he’s already constantly hanging all over Jimmy. All in all, it was a recipe for disaster. “Gah,” he huffs, poking at a bottle of bright pink sprinkles, “Fine. I guess.” “That’s a good Tango,” Jim teases, still not looking at him as he moves onto whisking in the bowl, “Can you get the cake pan, my little assistant?” “Don’t deny me kisses and then patronize me,” Tango says, narrowing his eyes at Jimmy, who grins evilly. “Please?” he asks again, very sweetly. Wrinkling his nose, Tango nods. He grumbles like an old man, shuffling over to the cabinets and popping one open. Scooping out the cool, gray pan, he pushes a few things aside before setting it on the counter. Tango continues watching intently, afraid to touch anything as Jimmy gives the pan a spray-down with oil that makes him want to cough. Slowly, Jimmy then lifts the bowl and pours the dark mix into the heart-shaped cake pan, now slick and shiny. He looks pleased with his work as he sets the bowl aside. Where Tango feels he lacks in these things like baking and cooking, Jimmy makes up for it. In fact, Tango doesn’t even like sugar-y foods that much. It’s good on occasion, but he doesn’t go out of his way for them. But then he shows up for their date, and Jimmy shoves that recipe in his face. Those eyes so big and starry with excitement, bouncing on his heels and saying how fun it’d be... Tango couldn’t say no. He’ll eat cake for Jimmy. Frankly, he’d bend over backwards and kill a man for Jimmy—but for now, cake. One that he’s, successfully, barely helped with. “You’re really good at this,” Tango says, letting the thoughts fall. The oven beeps to signal it’s ready, and Jimmy glances over to him as he picks up the pan. Jimmy’s cheeks get a little pink, and he looks a little taken aback, though it melts into a smile. “Stopp..” he says, taking the cake pan from the counter. “What? It’s true!” Tango says. Jimmy just chuckles to himself. Pulling open the oven door, Jimmy quickly slides the cake onto the rack and sets the timer. He turns around once it’s closed, leaning his back against it and looking at Tango. “25 minutes,” he says, “and then I’ll have to check it with a toothpick.” Nodding, Tango slowly steps over. He hears 25 minutes and his brain reels with ideas and opportunity. Curling up close and fiddling lightly with the collar of his shirt, he purrs.  “25 whole minutes,” Tango says, staring intently at those big brown eyes, “What should we do?” “Hmm, I think I have an idea..” Jimmy hums, voice going low and husky. Tango grins. “Mhmmmm?” “We could..” Jimmy starts, and Tango feels him grab at the sides of his arms lightly, “Make some frosting. And cut some strawberries.” As Jimmy pulls back from his ear, he plants a quick kiss on Tango’s cheek, then spinning the two of them around to change places as he hops back to the counter. Tango stays next to the oven, a little dumbfounded for a second. He feels all warm and tingly now, and that playful frustration only grows within him. Oh, he’ll get Jimmy for this one. “Wanna cut the strawberries?” Jimmy asks cheerily, though it’s laced with the knowing that he’s being a little cheeky. “I-.. Yeah, okay.” Jimmy hands Tango a knife once he’s back in his station, sliding over the bowl of water-speckled strawberries from when they were washed before. Tango gets to work slowly chopping them, one at a time. Next to him, Jimmy hums as he throws together the ingredients for a frosting. It’s pink and fluffy within a few minutes, while Tango’s empty plate has a decent pile of bright strawberries. Tango picks one out and plops it into his mouth, that sweet and tart taste attacking him immediately. He lets out a pleased hum, reaching for another. When he catches sight of a few fingers reaching for the bowl, though, he swiftly smacks them away. “Aye!” Jimmy says, dropping the spoon into his bowl as he holds his hand, “What was that for?” “No kiss, no berry,” Tango says in a very firm way, mouth still half-full, “That’s the rules.” “Since when?” “Since now.” “No fair!” Jimmy exclaims, reaching for the berries once more. Tango smacks him again, cuing yet another dismayed cry from Jimmy. Trying to fight the smile that tempts his face, Tango ignores Jimmy’s pitiful and intent stare as he picks up the knife. “Sorry, Jimmy. You know what you have to do..” he says in a sing-song voice, about to continue his work, when something cold and pink is smudged across his cheek.  He gasps, retracting a bit as he whips his head to the side. Jimmy licks some remaining frosting from his finger, overwhelmingly happy with himself. “Did you know pink’s a good color on you?” “You little-!” Tango huffs. Instinctively, he reaches into the open bag of flour, gathering a bunch into his fist and tossing. It scatters across Jimmy in a cloud, covering his entire upper half. “Tango!” he says, pulling at the blue t-shirt that is now covered in flour, “Ohh, you are goin’ to get it..” “That so?” Tango asks, putting his hands on his hips and wiggling them playfully, “What are you gonna do, huh?” The two moving in such slow sync could only be described as predator and prey, Jimmy holding out his hands in preparation. Tango watches a glint of mischievousness flash through Jimmy’s eyes, and he prepares to run. “C’mere and I’ll show you!” Jimmy suddenly says, reaching out to Tango with both hands and dashing forward. Tango jumps back, but Jimmy’s surprisingly quick. He’s scooped up into big arms before he can get away, laughter bursting out from him as he grabs at Jimmy’s shoulders as his feet leave the ground. “What the- You were so fast?!” Tango questions, looking down at his grinning partner. “Gotcha,” Jimmy says. With the word, he leans in and plants his mouth right on Tango’s cheek. In a sloppy kiss, he licks most of the frosting right off his face. Tango can feel warmth crawl up his neck at the sensation, a bunch of tingles spreading from head to toe and shocking his nerve endings with something weirdly exciting. Despite this, his face scrunches up with a high pitched shriek as he tightly grips Jimmy’s shoulders while he attempts to lean away. When Jimmy pulls away, he’s halfway to a full mess. Covered in of flour still lingering on his neck and dusting his face, mouth now a little artificially-pinker than before, his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “You’re right, I am pretty good at this baking thing,” he chimes, “That frosting is quite good.” “You..icing-coated jerk..” Tango grumbles, though it’s full of so much love he can taste it and his smile is undeniable. “Excuse me, that’s your icing-coated jerk, thank you,” Jimmy says, smiling big as his eyes scan over Tango’s face, who is a bright tomato red even still. With an easy lift, Jimmy sets Tango up on a clear area of the counter. He tears a paper towel from the roll set aside for occasions like this—though, maybe not exactly like this. Tango goes to take it himself, but Jimmy pushes the hand away and gently wipes at his cheek, getting rid of any remaining.. frosty stuff. Jimmy’s eyes drift to Tango’s as he cleans it off—who is shamelessly staring when their eyes meet. Jimmy’s teeth burst past lip in a smile, something dopey. With the sight comes that warm, syrup-y feeling that seeps from Tango’s chest and alllll the way down to his toes. Butterflies kick up in his stomach, heart rate exploding. “What’re you starin’ at?” Jimmy asks, cocking an eyebrow. The crumpled napkin joins the mess of bowls and other half-open ingredients once he’s done with it. “Nothing,” Tango says softly, eyes flicking down to his lips, “Just somethin’ real pretty..” “And what might that be?” Jimmy insists further, voice delicate as his hands find Tango’s knees and gently rest upon them. It sends a chill down his spine. “If I say it’s you, will you kiss me already?” “Maybe.” “Okay then, mister..” Tango reaches out, curling his fingers into the belt loops of Jimmy’s jeans and giving them a decent tug. Jolting forward a bit, Jimmy glides into the space between Tango’s legs with ease, pulled right up against the counter until it stops him. “It’s you, my pretty thing,” Tango says lowly. Jimmy goes red in the face, cheeks a pleasantly rosy color that matches the cake frosting almost perfectly. As if by habit, the closer Jimmy gets to Tango, the further his hands slide up. They grip Tango’s hips lightly, resting like they’re meant to be there. “Awww, Tangooo..You think I’m pretty?” Jimmy asks, giving a gentle, dramatic gasp. More teasing. With a roll of the eyes, Tango leans up and presses his lips against Jimmy’s, closing the mere inch or two they’d had left between them. Jimmy giggles against it, but the delighted noise dies off as he kisses him deeper, more hungry as the seconds pass. Unhooking his fingers, Tango’s hands wander slowly up his waist, snaking around Jimmy’s neck and clasping behind it. Pulling him in further, he can feel Jimmy’s hands grip his hips tighter now, the tall man letting out a low guttural groan that makes Tango’s jaw buzz. Oh, he wishes he could get closer, even scooting forward just a tad (spare not immediately falling off the counter) and hooking his legs around Jimmy’s hips. With the movement, big hands shift to his back and fingers roughly hold the fabric of his t-shirt in fists, sending sensations all the way up to the back of Tango’s head. Distracted.. might be an understatement. Maybe Tango understands why Jimmy was so insistent on not getting into this earlier, as stopping is the last thing on his mind. Jimmy breaks the kiss with a quick inhale, only to dive below Tango’s jawline and press a long kiss there. Tango’s sharp teeth graze at his own bottom lip with a delicate gasp, claws curling into the blonde hair on the back of Jimmy’s head.. He can feel hot breath casting onto his neck and fingers on skin and... A loud, high-pitched beep sounds. They stop moving, Jimmy plopping his forehead onto Tango’s shoulder with a raspy chuckle. “Damnit..” he curses. “I promise I’ll forgive you if you let the cake burn,” Tango suggests, whispering right into his ear with a grin. Jimmy looks up to him briefly, only turning to look at the oven as it beeps again, attempting to beckon him. He bites at the inside of his cheek, visibly weighing the option. When Jimmy turns back to Tango, he waves away the the oven. “It probably needs another minute anyway. Altitude and.. things..” he says. “Of course, of course. It’ll be fine,” Tango says, nodding rapidly. “It’ll be fine. Few more minutes,” Jimmy says, words dissolving into Tango’s skin as he dips back below his jaw. Safe to say, Tango and Jimmy decorated a slightly burnt cake that day. And Tango finds that he might be more inclined to indulge his newfound sweet tooth. 

[nemotakeit]

the circulating theory that clancy might be/become a bishop is so intriguing to me because that's literally the 'you've become the very thing you swore to destroy' / 'you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain' trope and i'm a sucker for dark fictional content about heroes who lose themselves along the way to justice - idk if that's a path tyler would choose for his story to go down, though

[soaringsearingphoenix]

i have decided that Po from Kung Fu Panda is ace/autistic representation