#or at least come close to kicking it

[smilesthroughfandoms]

A Bone to Pick (Chapter Preview)

(Shadowpeach shippers I am serving crumbs on a silver platter, come and eat!)

“Macaque, what exactly are you—?” Before Wukong could finish the question, Macaque had dashed over to The Not-Mayor and, with the evilest grin possible, punched the still-downed man in the gut. The lapdog spat out some blood and what little breath he had in his lungs upon impact, before rocketing down the tunnel and out of the cave. 

“Holy whoa!” Bai He smiled. 

“Guess we’re doing this now, huh?” Mei asked with a lazy grin. 

Macaque sighed happily. “That felt nice… that felt real nice.” He then turned to the others with a casual grin. “Keep up guys,” and then he sank into the shadows. No doubt chasing after the man he just punched. 

“Y’know,” Pigsy crossed his arms, “I forgot fer a second he’s about as old as Monkey King and almost as strong.”

“Well, Team B is moving out!” Mei started jogging ahead, with Sandy and Pigsy right behind her. “You guys better go catch up with Mac-Attack. Don’t want him to accidentally flatten Zhongyu, you know?”

Tang spared one last glance to Team A. “Try not to get electrocuted.” Then, with one last odd glance at Monkey King, he was running to catch up with the others. 

MK exchanged a look with PB and Bai He. “You two ready?”

“You bet I am!” PB grinned eagerly. 

From her spot piggybacking on PB, Bai He gave a familiar-looking evil grin to MK. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.”

“Great! Monkey King are you—Monkey King?” The trio turned to see the Great Sage standing with wide-eyed amazement, staring at the spot where Macaque had just disappeared. His tail was wagging slightly, his cheeks were a little pink, and his fur looked fluffier for some reason. 

MK reached over and shook the king’s shoulder. “Monkey King?”

“Nothing!” Monkey King shouted, looking panicked. 

“Huh? I didn’t say anything but your name.” MK raised a brow. 

“Oooh, fluffy.” PB reached over and patted Monkey King’s head like he was a kitten, marveling at his new fluffy fur texture. “How’d your fur get so fluffy, Mr. King?”

Face even redder, Monkey King swatted her hand away. “Let’s talk about something else, anything else really.”

“How come you look so nervous and sweaty right now?” Bai He asked. 

“… Anything else besides that.”

“Well we can either talk about kicking Zhongyu’s butt, or we could actually go kick it.” MK gestured towards the exit. “Which do you prefer?”

Monkey King sighed a bit, before smiling. “Actually kicking his but…”

“Great! Then le-go!” MK charged out of the cave, drawing his staff out. PB took off behind him, Bai He giggling in excitement. Monkey King hesitated a bit, waiting to make sure they were far enough away before he frantically started patting and combing his orange fur back into place. 

He decided, pointedly, to not examine what just happened to him until after The Not-Mayor was no longer a problem… but that didn’t mean the butterflies in his stomach were going away anytime soon.

[minwilder]

show tempe gang crossover with the morris islanders would actually have been the best episode of bones ever. btw

[sysig]

Blusters in, flusters out (Patreon)

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

Y'know, I have a feeling that no matter how much Viv says Vox and Velvette are gonna be on the same level as Valentino, they really w o n ' t -

[hollowfairybabybat]

youll never guess who threw on hadestown again (its me)

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Me realizing summer is almost here, which means more people might be able to finally sit down and read/catch up on my fic:

[hauntingblue]

Sanji: I don't even like them but I wanna save them

Luffy: that's my boy

[nehswritesstuffs]

what stinks sometimes about writing is that you know you need to get x amount more done in a multichapter fic before posting it, or else it will end up languishing like many of your other multichapters, but you’re also *checks* 21k in and nowhere near halfway done but you know ~(￣▽￣)~* it’s the process

[designernishiki]

I feel like whatever was going on with majima/mirei/katsuya in the early 90s was some sort of complicated bisexual love triangle situation. like majima is majima and katsuya’s handsome and eloquent and absolutely doesn’t seem straight to me, but on top of that it feels like there was some sort of confusing tension between katsuya and mirei, not sure if it was romantic or one-sided or what but. SOMETHING. I don’t know what the hell was going on with those three really but no way in hell do I believe the romantic/sexual/??? depth ends with majima and mirei

[todayisafridaynight]

Same same same I was literally thinking of what RGG characters' zOMG! loadouts might look like earlier today help😭But I too was playing zOMG! on a horrid PC with a horrid connection... had to zoom out so far to get some slightly better performance from Flash that chat was nearly unusable...

I'm not totally sure I ever got to play the endgame areas like SS and DMS (definitely didn't get to finish DMS, it was just me and the besties + it's a reeeally long run), but those were some wonderful memories! My blorbo apparently lives in Deadman's Pass and it was a lot of fun crawling every inch of the map and coming up with headcanons and stuff. Sawmill was unusually un-performant though for sure, for how small the area is.

My friend group and I dropped it on account of the NFT investments and general downward trend, but sometimes... sometimes it calls to me...

my whole in-and-out bit with gaia is that sometimes i'd just feel too awkward to try and actually talk to anyone in the towns, so i'd just leave the site alone for a while until i felt brave enough to open it back up or i just really wanted to play zOMG (legit it had no business being as fun as it was)

i checked the creation date of my account and my sis actually made it when i was 8 ☠️☠️ but on that note i remember she wanted me to make an account so we could play zOMG together specifically but honestly i can only remember us playing a handful of times before we just played on our own

[immortalsins]

i lovee groups and communication

[thanksfortheflaglove]

.

[hanjisungz]

excuse me i just need to scream abt soccer for a second

[eightspringdays]

Don't know why, how or when but I woke up on the floor this morning and my first thought "if I hit my head wouldn't THAT be funny" but my pupils are good and reactive so it's all good 😗✌🏻

[fumiliar]

self-restraint is one thing kento prides on. he is a good man, or at least he tries to be. his eyes landed on your flailing figure, pinching his nose bridge to prepare himself. you, gojo, kento and shoko went out for drinks to celebrate the fact you 4 were still alive.

your mind was blank, you had no self-control, it was like the shame centre in your brain got turned off.

"oh my god!" you squealed in excitement. "my favourite song!" you stumbled off your bar stool, going to stand up on the table, gojo supporting your brave act.

kento acted quick. right when your foot landed on the table, you were pulled back by an immeasurable amount of strength, your back landing on someone's muscular chest.

"how drunk are you?" a gruff voice spoke right beside your ear, sending shivers through your whole body. your senses were already heightened, but at this moment, you could feel everything. you could hear the fastening rhythm of your heart, along with the steady rhythm of another's.

"earth to y/n~," satoru's singsong voice echoed through your empty head.

"yea, sorry," you shook your head, turning around to see kento's disapproving look. his hand keeping a deathly grip on your wrist, ensuring you were always close to him, in case you'd do something embarrassing, or at least that's what he tells himself.

"y/n, i'll bring you ho-"

"don'tt, you're such a party pooper nanamin! we were just getting started," the blue eyed man whined, he looked like he was about to start a tantrum.

"yeah, let's just wrap it up, i wanna go home," shoko agreed with kento, getting ready to leave. "i'll leave y/n to you, gojo, come." satoru following shoko like a sad puppy.

"let's go home," kento used his free hand to pack up your stuff, double checking if you took anything out of your purse.

"you're so hot when you take care of me," you freely complimented kento, his ears slowly turning beet red.

"i like you kento, you know that right?" you kept talking, kento's face slowly turning a darker shade of red. "why are you so red? are you having a fever?" you used your free hand to feel his forehead, even in your drunken state, you still worried about his health.

"no...y/n. i'm fine," he put your bag on your shoulder as he led you out of the establishment.

"ow....my feet hurt ken," you pouted looking down at your heels.

restrain yourself kento. restrain. was the only thing he could think off as he looked back at you. he didn't want to take advantage of your drunken self. he knelt down as he took of your heels, you bracing yourself on his back. he slowly took your hand of his back, putting down your heels on the ground to take off his blazer.

"up," his back facing you as he knelt down. you weren't going to waste a chance getting piggy backed. instantly, your arms slid around his neck as your legs trapped his torso. kento stood up, picking up your heels and adjusting his hold on you.

"comfy?" you nodded against his neck. "take this, and wrap it around your waist," he handed you his blazer. you instantly listened, wrapping the blazer around your waist, making sure you don't flash anyone along your way home.

"ken, you're so good to me," you mumbled, nibbling on his neck, eliciting a groan out of the man.

"you're such a tease," kento chuckled, smiling to himself at his current predicament.

"we're not even dating....hft," you sighed. kento let out a hearty laugh at your dissatisfaction.

"why do you want us to date?" kento asked making you even more disappointed.

"what woman doesn't want stability!" this time you were annoyed. you straightening your back, not leaning on kento's anymore. kento was still joyful, instead of responding to your annoyance, he loosened his grip on your legs, your instincts kicked in, quickly wrapping your hands around his neck once more to ensure your safety.

"were you about to drop me??" panic was evident in your tone, but kento was still amused. "answer me!" your hand hitting on his chest.

"y/n," kento sternly called out your name, abruptly stopping your abuse on his chest. "we're married love, isn't that the epitome of stability? why would i regress our relationship to just boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"huh?..." you were confused for a second, quickly looking at your hand. and there it was, glistening in the moonlight, your wedding ring. "oh.."

kento couldn't help but tease your drunken self, his self-restraint always wavering when it came to you. the prim and proper man turning playful in your presence, he just couldn't help it. he continued his walk home, occasionally giggling at your forgetful nature.

"i hope you don't forget this moment," kento muttered under his breath, knowing full well you would have no memory of this event, only a pounding headache to remind you of yesterday's events.

[yeyinde]

winter soldier au with John Price who was held in a gulag for three years and comes home wrong. comes back snarling and furious and threatening to rip apart the goddamn world if they don't give him what belongs to him, what's rightfully his, if they don't give him back his fucking wife, right this second—

the only problem is: John's ex-wife remarried. she's halfway around the world, and Laswell knows John enough to immediately squash that idea right away. but if not her, then who?

and then you walk into the room—a newly hired secretary that John has met less than a handful of times; a pencil pusher barely even a blip on the radar—but he pounces. snatches you up before any of them can react, tucking your bemused face into his chest, cradling you tight; possessively clutching at you as Kyle tries, and fails, to calm him down.

"you don't know her, sir. just let the girl go—"

it's met with a nasty snarl. all gleaming, bloodied teeth. a stranger in a familiar shape as John drags you further away from them. "this is my goddamn wife."

his declaration is met with shock. you're definitely not his wife. you barely know him much outside of a several, threadbare exchanges where he breathed down your neck about filing the wrong reports, and the cluttered mess of your desk ("a goddamn eyesore—"). you're not even friends. and in all honesty, you didn't even think he liked you that much. so. wife?

but he's beyond reason. his head a mangled, trenched mess of artillery fire and Makarov's torture. three years, Kate breathes. three whole years.

you can tell, almost immediately, by the look on her face that this—that you—will become a necessary loss in the grand scheme of things. and when John lets her close enough to whisper into your ear (having somehow convinced him that he can just walk out of here with you, his fucking wife, leaving for the marital home (and bed) that he demands from them for this brief stalemate)—she hurriedly tells you about their plot. this high risk, no reward scenario of playing along. not that you have much of a choice.

keeping John Price as close to them as possible was worth more than something as flimsy, as malleable as your agency, your autonomy. and if the way to do it was to let a brainwashed man play house with you, then so be it.

she, at the very least, offers a grim sort of smile even though you can see her working out the mechanics of it all as she makes promises on your behalf. things like, yes, John, you can leave with your wife. she missed you so much, John. she's so happy you're home.

"we kept your wife safe for you, John—" no one seems to react to the violent way Johnny has to be dragged out of the room by Ghost, kicking and screaming at the injustice of it all because th' captain wouldnae do this! don't do this t'him!

and John—if there's any part of that man still inside him, he doesn't let an inch of it show—just nods, lip pulling up into a snarl as he bullies you closer to his chest, and growls about finally getting you home.

"I'll keep you with me," he rasps, blunt fingers spreading wide over the fill of your body. a mad, twisted gleam of possessiveness, ownership, burning in bruised blue as he familiarises himself with this body he claimed as his. "right where you belong, wife."

(the word comes out in a bite. snaps around you and sounds just like mine.)