#patch! ☀︎

[inmyheaddd]

HI JUDEEE

HI PATCHHH!!

[inmyheaddd]

OFC!!!

your theme is SO CUTE omg

OMG THANK YOUUU!!

[soft-likethesunset]

hey cuties i miss you all this has been queued since like the start of the week so here are my face claims for a few of my favourite girlies bc uhhhh i don't actually know

@theodditylacey i have seen your face AND IT'S GORGEOUS HOLY SHIT but this is vibes and stuff

@toooster i have also seen your face THAT'S MY WIFE EVERYONE (sorry mads)

@glxsyymads i just KNOW that you are absolutely STUNNNG GIRL no doubt about it

@junefl0wers for some reason i can't QUITE clock your exact vibe but I’m getting the like dark blonde/light brown hair and REALLY clear skin

@daystarpoet MY GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL IF YOU EVER FACE REVEAL I WILL GENUINELY DIE

I HAVE MORE I PROMISE I GOTTA GO NOW IM GOING TO NANS BUH BYEEEE LOVE YKU ALL

[wonderful-rp-resources]

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse ---

Alternatively, send ‘ + ‘ after the symbol for the roles to be reversed where possible! Please specify the muse for multimuses!

✘ = hugging them.

Δ = playing with their hair.

❤ = kissing them.

₪ = asking them out for dinner.

☀ = giving them a gift of _ ( asker’s choice ) .

♘ = stabbing them.

♕ = bowing down before them.

♒ = lying to them.

✿ = buying them flowers.

☾ = being found shirtless.

♢ = reading them a story.

☂ = giving them their jumper to keep warm.

✎ = speaking in a different language.

✏ = teaching them a different language.

▄ = telling them a joke.

♬ = singing to them.

☹ = insulting a loved one.

ஐ = slapping them.

✂ = threatening them.

❃ = dancing with them.

�� = falling asleep on them.

☮ = waking them up after a nightmare.

♣ = discovering them crying.

回 = patching a wound.

✮ = stargazing.

▓ = caught stealing their belongings.

☽ = wandering alone at night.

♡ = complimenting them.

≡ = offering a place to stay overnight.

☢ = falling over.

✦ = being well-dressed.

❂ = wiping blood off their face.

◎ = taking care of them while ill.

☁ = being caught in the middle of a storm with them.

⇕ = holding their hand.

↱ = being lost with them.

☠ = pushing them against a wall.

[invincibledc]

⋆˙⟡#HEATING PAD ⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ KOLE ANDERS (OC) X BATSIB!READER⋆˙⟡

SUMMARY: when your body hurts so bad, you have to call your personal heater.

GENRE: period comfort/hurt comfort, fluff

INFO: this OC is an OC I’ve written for my own amusement. He’s the adoptive son of Kori/Starfire. Full HUMAN name, Kole Anders. His Tamaranean name is Koldond'r. Reader is the twin sibling of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically, plus freakishly tall like a Tamaranean should be.

WORD COUNT: 654

Body aching, you feel like shit. Complete dog shit as you lay on your bed, bandages flooded across your body as you tried to move.

Wincing—you feel your abdomen be the worst of the pain ever. It keeps coming and coming, discomfort written all over your face. You groaned loudly annoyed.

“This is such bullshit!” You exclaimed angrily, training with your twin brother is not for the weak. Sure you both are ex-assassins, but Damian is a fucking beast! You aren’t much about that life til you are extremely pissed off.

Alfred helped patch you up the best he could ever do, which is always his best. But damn, laying down as of now, staring at the ceiling—you wish to die cause why the hell were you in so much pain for.

So you called the only thing you could, your heater.

☀︎

Kole was at his home, his blazing green eyes watching his adoptive mother, Kori, clean the kitchen as they talked in their native language about dinner. Thinking about bringing some zorkaberries from Tamaran for dessert. As Kole gets excited about the decision, his phone rings. He gets from the bar stool, pulling his phone out to see the name “Y/N” with a pink heart close to it. He frowns with worry as he answers it.

“Hello?”

“Anders..” your voice is what made him alert as he immediately started to float with wide green eyes. Kory looks worried as she knows how much he cares for you, he goes over to a window and opens it quickly.

Not wasting time—he flew. “Don’t talk. I am on the way to get to you.” He hangs up leading you to scrunch up your face.

“The fuck?” You said softly, not seeing a red-haired boy with curly fiery hair burst into your room. You jolt at the loud crashing and the tall buff teenage male whose body is tense.

“W-WOAH!” You yelled as Kole just shook his head from the glass and turned to you. “WHO do I need to harm for your safety!” He screams with a warrior's voice.

“Kole! No one, I’m fine dude!” You sat up, only to be flinching at the pain in your stomach. You then fell back with a whine.

Kole could only frown, and move closer to you, “You are not well. Is this because of someone?” He says softly, despite the hidden rage ready to be unleashed for you.

“Well yes but no—”

“Name.” He interrupts with a low voice.

“Let me finish.” You said with a pointed look, pointing to him weakly as he pouted and sat on the bed. Nodding for you to finish your words.

“Thank you. No one harmed me intentionally, it was just training between me and Damian. And I’m hurting like a bitch. So.. can you like.. be my heating pad?”

You said with a small grin, Kole gave you a slow blink like a cat before he tilted his head confusingly. “Heating.. pad?”

“Yeah, like you just lay on me like this—” You pulled his tall body over you, his face hovering over yours. He breathed softly as he gazed over your bandaged face and your small smile. “You can just lay on me like this, maybe place your hand on my stomach?” Kole slowly obeys, putting his heavy hand on your abdomen.

His warm hand feels so good, that it makes you let out a soft sigh, reveling in it while closing your eyes.

Kole then lays his head down on your chest when he feels comfortable, he gently rubs your stomach up and down. To make sure you felt fully comfortable—and you sure did as you fell asleep quickly. Kole glanced his full green eyes up to your face, a blank face before he smiled gently.

He soon closed his eyes as well, holding you close as he made sure nothing could disturb your peace.

He’s your sweet heater.

[soft-likethesunset]

AND THAT'S NOT RIDICULOUS SLEEP IS COOL GUYS

[on1knee4marksmen]

Bundle of Joy

Old man Logan x reader

—☀︎——☀︎——☀︎——☀︎——☀︎——☀︎——☀︎—

Whew,finally!! I've been keeping this thing in drafts for like a week now, all because of school (😠)

This is originally a request from @fluff-lover (I forgot to answer to their ask) :

"I had this idea of Old man Logan and reader living a quiet life in a cabin, and a pregnant dog comes to their door. Reader takes her in and helps her until she's given birth and the puppies are ready for their forever home. Logan has to drive to the shelter with the puppies to drop them off, but knowing Reader got attached he decides to surprise them by bringing home one of the puppies."

I absolutely loved this idea when I read it, so I really really hope this is what you imagined 🤞

Pairing: Old man Logan x reader

Words: 1,6k ish

Description: Look at the ask above,pretty much that + Laura in the picture bc I love her 3000

Warnings: Not many. Couple of swear words + me rambling; excessive use of the word "and" (my bad)

Tags: Fluff, domestic Logan :), reader sees Laura as their daughter, reader gets referred to as Logan's wife (I don't think there are any other lady reader indicators), attachments being formed with puppies (I love animals), Logan being the dad that says 'I don't want any pets' but then being found guilty of snuggling with the dog on the couch💔

A/n: English isn't my first language and I absolutely hate tenses, so lmk if there's anything I should fix :)

—————————☀︎——————————

James Howlett. Jimmy. Logan. Patch. The Wolverine.

How did a man that lived long enough to get called all those names end up here? Driving a limo, owning reading glasses and having to deal with aching bones?

And he's not driving a customer around this time — on the passenger seat next to him is an open box. Full of fucking puppies.

What had happened to get Logan here?

Well, it all started a month ago. You'd just came back to the little cabin you and Logan had the privilege of calling a home – after Charles sadly passed, you'd offered Logan to cross the border along with Laura and build a home. Start anew. And God, who was he to deny you?

So anyways, you'd just come home after work. Logan was, for once, early, already hanging his coat. Laura was on a week-long trip with her class, which left you and your husband some time to spend together, just you and him..

Or so he thought. Upon going back to the front door to great you, he had heard your voice, soft and mumbly, almost cooing at someone. Or something. His usual wrapping his arms around you and welcoming you home with a kiss – he'd do anything to catch a glimpse of that sweet smile of yours, even after all these years – turned into an eyebrow raise and a soft look of curiousity in Logan's eyes.

"Hi, darlin'. ..Who're you talking to?"

Too swallowed up in trying to get the mystery.. individual to follow you in, your head had whipped around in surprise at Logan's words. ...And a tiny smile adorned your features the moment you saw him.

"Lo, you're back early!" You called out, and your arms immediately outstretched, as if it was an automatic reaction to catching his gaze.

Aaand here it was. A man that everyone convinced he was a weapon his whole life, that he was born to kill, was now getting flustered and giddy at the sensation of the beautiful woman he got the privilege to call his wife, planting soft little kisses aaalll over his face. And he wasn't grumpy about it either – he was smiling like an idiot.

But the smile dropped to a surprised part of his lips, his eyes widening, as they got met with a rather interesting sight. As you hugged him,he had the chance to look at whatever was behind your back. And now he realized why you were cooing.

A dog. A not so big, yet not so small dog with glossy eyes and an almost sad look on its muzzle.

And it was kind of..round, too.

And that's when it sort of clicked for Logan. He pulled back, wide eyes looking down at you with astonishment, interest and some disbelief. "Where did uh... Where'd the lil' guy come from?"

It had taken you a while to understand what he was talking about. But some confused looks and a long 'Ooooh!' later, you were already explaining. "The little guy's actually a girl - she's been in the neighborhood for a while now. I gave her leftover meat once, so I guess she came back for more."

A pause. "... She's pregnant." Yeah. Logan could see that. But with the way your voice had softened, he didn't dare tease. "I was.. hoping we could take her in. Help her with the cubs... I mean, she looks really pregnant."

At first, Logan had stayed silent. Stayed skeptical. A stray? And a pregnant one, at that? Who knew what kind of diseases she could be carrying?? And yeah,he couldn't get sick and neither could Laura, but what about you? He couldn't bare anything bad happening to you...

But then, oh, then, he saw that look in your eyes. It's like he couldn't decide which one of you was giving him sadder puppy eyes - you or the literal dog behind you. And then you had given one simple "..please?" And he couldn't resist - he caved.

And so, the one month of taking care of the stray doggo had begun. You'd taken her to the vet to make sure everything was okay, just to ease Logan's paranoia. It had been hard for him to get used to her in the house at first anyway, however - and that was without having Laura around and having to explain to her what she could and couldn't do in order to not scare the poor thing - loud music or yelling wouldn't be a treat for the poor pup, even if Laura didn't do those so often.

It was a change of pace, that's for sure. Having yet another mouth to feed, even if it wasn't that hard to mix dog food with some meat twice a day. Having a four-pawed, big-eyed pet walking around the house, laying on the couch, sleeping on your shared bed...

What he couldn't get used to was having your attention on the pup more than on him.

Some might call it jealousy. It definitely wasn't jealousy.

...It was totally jealousy.

At first,it had stunned you to see Logan more grumpy than the usual. I mean, yeah, he'd barely agreed and yeah, he wasn't used to a pet, moreso a pregnant one, but why was he looking at the damn dog so weird every time you gave it a scratch or cooed at it?

And then it had dawned on you. He wanted head scratches too. Wanted you to coo at him and coddle him. And oh boy, did he get teased.

After you figured out why he was being more of a grump than usual, you got a good laugh out of it, (and you got to see your husband as red as a tomato) but after that, you made sure to give equal attention to both the pup and Logan himself. You made up to him with a looot of kisses, cuddles, even a back massage.

And the problem was quickly resolved.

A week in, Laura got to know the pup as well. After a 5 or so minute talk about pregnant animals and dogs and whatnot, during the whole entirety of which the girl had been silent, Laura asked a pretty good question.

"Does she have a name?"

And it hit you - she didn't.

And then came the next question of your daughter's - "Can I name her?"

That's how the dog ended up with her own name - Bella.

The following three weeks were a new experience for Laura as well, but she seemed to love having Bella around, just as much as you did. She'd help you with her food, offer to come with you to walk her in the evenings, she even tried to get the pup to sleep on her bed once.

But eventually, the time had come for Bella to give birth. You had done all necessary research - whether or not to interfere, how to help, what was normal and what wasn't. When you'd recognised Bella's odd behaviour as going into labour, you immediately scurried to join her side in the corner of your bedroom, crouching down to be closer to her.

After you gained awareness on Logan's little... problem - and solved it - your husband began to warm up to Bella too. You'd begun finding the dog curled up close to him while he read when you came home, he, in turn, had begun to help with her food. He'd stopped complaining about the dog sleeping in your shared bed. He'd even began petting her more than he'd like to admit.

——————————☀︎——————————

What you hadn't expected was for Logan to join your side too.

Bella had given birth with little to no complications - and her pups were just so tiny and so cute! It warmed your heart just thinking about it - the stray you took in had just had eight healthy puppies, eight! And, with the way Bella herself was eagerly trying to lick at your hand when you went to pet her, despite the exhaustion that must've been seeping through her, told you that she was as grateful as ever, too. It made your eyes water, even if you wouldn't admit it.

You and Logan had gladly let Bella stay until her pups were at least four months old. But both you and your husband knew that after they were bug enough, you had to give them to a dog pound - you couldn't feed eight more pups, you couldn't assure they were living their best life.

That time you hadn't hidden the tears. And that time, Logan hadn't said a word as he hugged you. He understood. Because he'd grown attached to the doggo too.

Aaand, back to present - here he was, driving a box full of puppies, lined with newspapers to try and keep the little things as comfortable as possible. Bella was in there too, looking up at him with those big, glossy eyes. It hurt to turn to the right exactly because he knew he'd likely never see her again..

You'd never see her again, either. He knew how sad that made you, and it made him even sadder knowing it. He was going to come home to you, to Laura, to his house, but he'd no longer her the sound of long nails and furry paws hitting the floor. He'd no longer have soft fur to absentmindedly stroke while he reads.

He'd left home with nine bundles of joy in a box, and he'd come home empty-handed.

...At least that's what you thought. Until you saw your husband open the door with one hand. Smiling softly.

(Another) A/n: Thank you so much for the love on my recent fics! I love when you guys leave silly tags when you repost btw, so don't be shy <33

Because his other hand was too busy holding one of Bella's puppies, letting the little bundle of joy get accustomed to its home. Your little bundle of joy.

[haeryna]

first time that i called you mine (that wasted summer) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: suguru figures out he loves you the summer when you're both fifteen. satoru calls you his a few months after. when you finally realize it, there's nothing left to call yours. ↪ a continuation of this drabble

tw: angst, referenced abandonment, homophobia, implied mild sexual content, reader calls satoru a manwhore (affectionate), swearing, the author loves parentheses a concerningly large amount, not proofread teehee

notes: title taken from loote's wasted summer. reader is a teenager, along with satoru, suguru, and shoko. banner from @/cafekitsune

Suguru is only six years old when he falls in love with you.

At first, it was entirely childish. When he saw you for the first time, tears streaming down your cheeks by the creek he'd explore with Satoru, he liked feeling needed. He liked how you'd clung to him so desperately, and selfishly, he liked having something he didn't share with Satoru.

(He should have known that whatever was Suguru's inevitably also became Satoru's)

He knew he loved you when you were eight, bravely defending Satoru from a group of bratty kids who were calling him slurs before Satoru had even knew what love was. He knew he loved you when you were twelve and crying for him when Suguru got into his first fist fight, sniffling as you patched up the bloody scrapes after.

But this was different.

"Sugu, sit still!" you hissed, as he squirmed uncomfortably on the lumpy sofa that resided in his basement. You were fifteen, and tired of Suguru complaining about how the nearest piercer was a two hour drive away. In one hand you brandished a piercing gun; in your other, the piercings that were meant to go into his earlobes. Besides you, Satoru gleefully filmed Suguru's discomfort.

"Are you sure that's sanitary? Why are we doing this because you're bored, can't you experiment on Satoru first?" Suguru shot back, leaning away from the piercing gun.

"You're such a big baby, you've been complaining about your empty earlobes for months now. You literally came with me to buy the piercing gun, which cost me my whole allowance by the way, so sit still. And it's summer break, so if you're going to do something dramatic to your appearance, you have to do it now." Before he could stop you, you determinedly swung your leg up and over, lightly straddling his lap.

Suguru realized several critical things as he registered your weight sinking into him.

You smelled like the meadows you'd roamed as kids, mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke (Shoko had convinced him to take up smoking with her) and burnt sugar (Satoru's failed attempt at some monstrosity that still sat smoking in Suguru's kitchen). You smelled like them, he realized. Like a mix of the people who loved you.

You were pretty. He'd always known that, but now, with the heat of your body pressed against his, he didn't realize how somewhere along the way you'd grown into your gangly limbs and the clothes you complained were a few sizes too large.

These two realizations were combined with the fact that he was a boy, a teenaged boy, and you were so close that his heart was going to burst. You smelled like flowers, smoke, and sugar, you smelled like him, like you could be his, and if you moved an inch lower you would know that the Suguru you always came to for comfort was just another boy, and he couldn't bear it. He would rather die than lose you, he would do anything just to have you, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted-

"Yay, all done!" Effortlessly you slid right off his lap as fast as you'd hopped on it, and it was then he realized his earlobes were stinging. In the time he'd spent dazedly staring at you, you'd pierced his ears.

Satoru snickered, still holding his phone obnoxiously close to Suguru's face. "He looks like he's in shock. Hey, if I get a piercing, would you straddle me like that too? You'll make me jealous, you know."

As the two of you bickered in the background, Suguru couldn't help but swallow shakily, lightly pressing his fingertips to the round black earrings you'd picked out for him.

"I love it," he says quietly. "Thank you."

(I love you, is what he meant to say, but you didn't understand because you merely shot him a smug smile before berating Satoru for being a "manwhore, Satoru, I'm not like your groupies at school, go get one of them to pierce your ears for you if you want one so bad!")

Suguru has always known he's loved you, but that summer, he knew he loved you.

Where Suguru goes, Satoru follows. It's only inevitable that he'd realize he was in love with you too. Despite his easygoing nature and flirtatious charms, there's a critical difference between Suguru and Satoru. Satoru gets possessive, a dangerous combination of the spoiled upbringing and how guarded his heart is.

"Who is that?"

Satoru blatantly stares at the boy leaning against your locker. Pettily, he thinks that he's definitely shorter than Satoru, and uglier too. It doesn't seem to matter though, because you're laughing at whatever the he said. As you turn to reach for your books, the hungry look in the boy's eyes make Satoru's fists clench.

"Kenji?" Shoko looks amused when she sees the look in Satoru's eyes. "Isn't he in our English class? He's got a massive crush on her, apparently it's all he talks to his friends about."

Satoru grits his teeth. "Oh, does he?"

He can't quite explain the burning, insidious feeling that forms in his chest. What could've possibly been so funny to make you laugh like that? The smiles you're giving him, why didn't you give those to Satoru too?

The boy, Kenji, reaches over to your face, looking as though he's going to tuck a loose strand of hair around your ear. Something inside of Satoru snaps. He stalks over, ignoring Shoko's snicker, calling your name loudly and abruptly.

"There you are!"

You turn, surprised, as Kenji's hand drops away, his lovesick smile turning into something that looks something similar to fear. "'Toru, where were you? Suguru said he needed to stay in during lunch for a club, but I couldn't find you when I waited outside your classroom."

Satoru's heart lurches traitorously inside his chest, and before he can stop himself, he latches onto your wrist, tugging you towards him. "Don't scare me like that," he murmurs, cradling you firmly in his arms. "Shoko and I couldn't find you, it made me worried."

You peer up at him, clueless to the long forgotten boy fuming behind you. "Ah, I'm sorry, I forgot I left my lunch in my locker." Something in Satoru's chest yearns. Is it because you're so used to his physical affection, his touch, his love, that you don't give him the same starry eyed look as the boy who's still awkwardly waiting by your locker? How can he get you to look like that? How could he make you love him too?

The realization doesn't strike him like he expects, but it feels a bit like finally finding the choreography that fit with the song, the way that he would find a lyric for a song Suguru was attempting to write. It felt like coming home, and reclaiming what was once lost.

Satoru loved you. He has always loved you.

"Let's go," he says, signature smile back on his face, any trace of vulnerability long gone. As he intertwines his fingers with yours, he turns back to see the resigned, frustrated look on Kenji's face.

Just to be an asshole, he tucks your hair behind your ear as you walk away.

You're sixteen when Suguru and Satoru get together. They don't tell you anything. They don't have to. You can see it in the way that Suguru cradles Satoru's face when he falls asleep, affection settling warm in his dark brown eyes. You can see it in the way that Satoru somehow always needs something from Suguru at the precise moment that a girl tries to ask him out. It's in the dark purple marks you can see peaking out from Suguru's collarbone when his shirt slips down an inch, in the way that when Satoru stretches, you can see angry red scratches down his back.

You're sixteen when Satoru's parents find out, shattering the life that you once had. You're sixteen, sitting in Suguru's basement, sobbing as his parents tell you that he's gone. Shoko is saying something to you, but everything feels muffled and hazy, as you let out a choked wail. You know he's gone. The guitar you gave him only a couple months ago, the binder full of music he's composed, even Satoru's clothes that he'd keep in the dresser next to his bed. Every trace of them is gone. You feel as though they took your heart with you.

You're sixteen when Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru leave you, and it's in that moment that you realize you loved them a little too late.

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: ☀ APOLLO: God of Archery, Art, Music, & Poetry, Prophecy, Light & Sun, Healing & Plagues, Truth 🎶

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, you're graced with a light haloing over you. It's so bright yet soft. You also feel warm but you somehow feel like its a warm hug and its Apollo secretly giving you a hug.

The Apollo cabin welcomes you happily and they all gather around, singing you a welcome song. Some of them break out into an Acapella, while some whip out their instruments out of thin air. You find yourself at least humming to the song and maybe even singing along, the words just coming to you naturally. 

 You’re shown the sleeping quarters that are nice and warm, and when you press your nose against them, you can smell the sun on them. 

You’re also shown the ropes of the place, but most importantly where they treat the sick and injured. As children of Apollo, your natural gifts are used almost daily. If you’re not that hyped about seeing blood or the like, you’re moved away from the rotation and help out with other things: changing sheets, disinfecting, checking stock and getting stock, and so forth. 

You’re still required to learn how to do First Aid though. Even if your godly parent is the god of Healing, you’re still going to have to learn how to do the mundane medical methods. Better learn how to do proper CPR just in case. Sure, you could heal any damages but it's better not let it happen anyway. 

You just have candy in your pockets. You might think its odd but when you see a small camper hurt their knee and one of your siblings whip out a lollipop after patching it up, you realise you’re not just there to soothe physical wounds. 

Plus, you have candy. What’s not to love?

Though, speaking of Candy, you didn’t know you had to help out in sorting candy and inspecting it. Especially any red candy or specific dyes used in them. You learn immediately that once ago, there was a period of time that the campers acted very intensely, and after an intense lava wall incident and an almost burnt down pegasus stall, it was discovered that some people had consumed certain candies containing Red dye 40 and was affecting the ADHD.

The Apollo cabin is the place to be for entertainment. There’s constantly music and art being produced. There are even beat poetry nights. 

So many rap battles. 

The Apollo cabin often has collaborative efforts with the Hephatesus Athena,Dionysus cabin. There’s always some big project happening and it’s always a treat.

Hamilition. Cats. Hadestown. Heathers. Highschool Musical- all the broadway shows and musicals you can think of, the Apollo cabin have it down pat. Along with the Dionysus cabin, you just perform and break out in song. Eventually Mr. D and Chiron let you guys perform actual broadway musicals or general theatre because there were too many impromptu moments that broke through the entire camp. No one has recovered from the D's (Mr. D, the Dionysus, and Demeter cabin) and the Giant Strawberry incident.

When you get claimed, light envelops you with a soft mysterious song playing. It was warm and you swore you could imagine arms hugging you lovingly. You’d imagine Apollo used the claim to at least give his children a hug. You hugged back and you felt the faintest squeeze back. Before you could dwell on it later, the light disappears leaving a faint glow on your skin. 

The song you had heard had also drifted off as well, but it had spoken to your soul. Like it had been chosen for you. You saw a bunch of other campers stand around and begin going into verse, a choir of campers singing a song before you realized it was the same song from before. More and more people began to join in, singing in acapella, instruments being played, and people clapping along for the beat. You watched in excitement and you felt their music resonate with you, it went through your body, up your throat and before you knew it, you were singing along, leading it. 

When the song came to an end, the singers cheered and clapped before you saw a boy with curly blonde hair step up, giving you a beaming smile. You thought he looked like a golden retriever. 

“Hi! You definitely have the chords of a child of Apollo” he complimented, holding out his hand. You took his hand as you shook, “My name is Will Solace, and I’m the cabin leader of Cabin 7. Welcome to the Apollo cabin!”

[endwersed]

Snippet Sunday ☀

So! I'm currently working on the edits for my divorcee Derek/hot-for-older-men Stiles AU, and, whilst it unfortunately isn't as ready to post today as I had originally hoped, I do have a li'l snippet I can share until it is fully edited (fingers crossed, that'll be next weekend!) 🤗

-

“So, class,” Professor Boyd continues, “I’d like you all to meet – Mr Derek Hale.”

A man walks through the open doorway along with the introduction. Stiles’ jaw drops all the way down to the freaking floor.

What he was saying earlier, about his thing for older men? Well, this guy – this Mr Derek Hale – is every-fucking-thing that has made Stiles’ dick hard since pretty much he was old enough to know what to do with it.

Short, dark, soft-looking hair that is patched with spots of grey, his sharp jaw covered in a beard that is thick and coarse and close to being more salt than pepper. Even from where Stiles is sitting, even from this row way at the back of the room, he can still see the lines of age that show on his face, the faint wrinkles in his forehead, the creases around his pale eyes.

He is wearing a dark green sweater, tight across the strength of his broad shoulders, the fabric an expensive cashmere to Stiles’ inexperienced eye. Underneath it sits a crisp, white shirt, its starchy collar folded neatly along the line of his clavicle and a tie knotted snugly just below the prominence of his Adam’s apple. His legs are draped in the dark material of his slacks, skimming close enough to the muscle to reveal the definition of his thighs, and Stiles cannot fight back the thought that he kind of really wants to bury his face between them.

This guy is well into his forties, easily, and he is also, to put it bluntly, the middle-aged man of Stiles’ wettest fucking dreams.

There is no ring on that left hand, either. Interesting. Very, very interesting.

From her place next to him, Stiles can feel the searing heat of the side-eye that Lydia throws him the moment Derek steps into the room. If he cared even one lick about her judgement, he might be cowed into at least trying to hide the raging heart-eyes he probably has going on right about now.

Unfortunately for her, he lost any shame long, long ago – and that’s if he ever truly even had any in the first place.

She wouldn’t get it, anyway. Her taste in men has always been much more mainstream than Stiles’. Has been, barf, Scott, all the way since high school. She likes a nice boy her age, and she found that boy back when they were still stumbling their way through the awkward years of puberty. He is happy for them, of course, but that does not change the fact that his preferences have always taken him well, well beyond those years.

“Hello, everyone.”

The sound of Derek’s voice snaps every fibre of Stiles’ focus back up to the front of the class. The cadence of it isn’t as deep and as growly as his appearance might suggest, those thick eyebrows and that bushy beard, but it’s – nice. Really nice, actually. Stiles is, perhaps, more than a little bit interested in learning how it might pant and grunt and moan when a mouth is wrapped around his cock.

Pausing after just those two words, Derek slides a hand into the pocket of his pants, knuckles visible through the fabric as he rummages around. Eventually, he retrieves a long, rectangular box, flipping it open and pulling out –

Oh, fuck. Pulling out a pair of dark-framed glasses that he slips onto his face, sitting them low across the strong slope of his nose, peering over the top of them with that light, captivating gaze. Stiles thinks he may actually be fucking drooling. He dazedly ignores Lydia’s knee digging pointedly into the side of his thigh.

“Thank you for having me,” Derek carries on, both hands now tucked into his pockets. “As Professor Boyd said, my name is Derek Hale and I’m new to town. I hope you don’t all find me being here today as boring as I told your professor you definitely would.”

A light ripple of laughter filters around the class. Stiles is too entranced to join in with anything but a faint uptick at one corner of his mouth. Like anyone could find being in the presence of someone this freakishly hot boring. Stiles is growing less and less certain with each passing moment that he will even make it out of this class alive.

Stiles’ eyes are wide, his eyelashes fluttering ticklishly against the height of his cheekbones with his rapid blinks, and he leans forwards, pressing closer for more, more, as much as he can get. He rests the bend of his elbow against the solid plane of the table in front of him, his palm flat and open for him to lay his cheek against. It is the best position for gazing dreamily at the aging hunk gracing the next hour of his life, after all.

“I thought I’d start by talking about my years as an associate,” Derek says, light eyes sweeping slowly across the room. “I started with Pearson and Howe straight out of law school, and I –”

His words cut abruptly off. Quicker than a heartbeat, his entire body freezes, a visible tension in the square of his shoulders, a stunned-slack parting of his mouth as he stops, and stills, and stares out ahead of him, stares out at… something. It takes Stiles a few seconds of blinking confusion to figure out what the hell he is staring at, what the hell has made him react like some deer about to caught up in somebody’s bumper.

A grin spreads wickedly across Stiles’ mouth as soon as the realisation lands.

It’s him; it’s Stiles. He is what Derek is staring at, he is what has made Derek apparently lose control of his ability to speak, he is what has Derek gaping like a fish in front of a whole room of law students. Derek’s gaze is snagged with his and Stiles’ heart is kicking up into overdrive inside of his chest.

Lifting his face from his palm, he makes sure to hold Derek’s eye, sure and steady and still smiling stupidly. The room around him murmurs in confusion, and Professor Boyd has an eyebrow quirked that looks more amused than anything else, and Lydia is scoffing a quiet laugh beside him, but the only thing Stiles has the attention span for right now is Derek’s eyes, locked with his.

Heat pools around the flutter of his stomach. He bites his bottom lip and dares to throw out a wink. The tips of Derek’s ears burn brightly as he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Derek says, the word coming out low, a little choked, raw until the pointed clearing of his throat. “Sorry, I just, uh… I lost my train of thought there for a second. But anyway, uh – as I was saying.”

-

No pressure tags! @dear-massacre @heavensenthale @like-lazarus @myrrhhymns @renmackree

[krislgfox]

+ Dop info

🍎Get very dirty when she's working in the garden

🍎 Pretty strong

+ Dop info

🌙Has a lazy eye(left one)

🌙He's the only one with pupils, and some people(critters) find it creepy

🌙Introvert

🌙They mouth can often be “stuck” in their creepy smile

🌙He is often silent

🌙Doesn't like affection

+ Dop info

💡He doesn't like it when his tail is touched

💡Not ticklish

💡Sometimes he can get very carried away while reading and forget to go to bed

+ Dop info

💐Likes to do their own hair

💐They're always carries their own art supplies

+ Dop info

⚡She dreams of becoming a great athlete

+ Dop info

⭐Wears a patch because he thinks it's cool

⭐Can dance

+ Dop info

☀Sometimes can get a little silly

☀Likes to play in the rain

☀Prb has ADHD

☀Very ticklish

☀Can start laughing with any joke(even if he didn't get it)

+ Dop info

❤Loves Valentine's Day

❤She is used to giving gifts but not receiving

That's all I guess, I'm got so tired doing this ¡v¡

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

May Writing Challenge Day 20,21,22!

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Male Reader Summary: Chris gets a booboo and reader gives him a band-aid Words: 816/200 Warnings: blood? Notes: I cant tell you how many times I rewrote this, I wanted to try to write in a different style but when I tried nothing sounded right or it all sounded too dramatic and poetic.

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The store is deserted when Chris walks in, a few lights in the back had been turned off, the absence of the clerk behind the counter. The atmosphere was haunting and after the shit Chris went through not three hours earlier, he was caught off guard. Too caught up in his head he doesn't realize he’s hovering by the entrance until he hears a rustle coming from a door off to the side behind the counter. Chris’ hand reflexively moves to his hip only to remember last second that he’d left his gun in the car. But before he can overreact any further, you emerge from the door holding a broom and dustpan. 

Upon seeing Chris you look surprised, “Uh, hey…” You fumble, not expecting to have a customer this late but you’re quick to recollect yourself, you set the dustpan on the floor and lean the broom against the wall. “Anything I can help you with?” You look a little intimidated and Chris almost feels bad but he snaps himself out of it with a shake of his head. “No, I'm fine.” – “You sure?” The rate at which you respond catches Chris a little off guard, “– It’s just… I mean…” You trail off like you’re struggling for words and point to your forehead, “You’re bleeding, dude.” Cris raises his brows, the sting reminds him of the cut on his forehead. Shit, he’d completely forgotten. He raises his hand to feel up his forehead and sure enough, there's blood when he pulls his hand back. 

It's not as bad as it was earlier but it seems to be enough to have you, a complete stranger, looking worried. “Wait right there.” He has a feeling he knows what you’re going to do but you don’t give him time to object. You head back through the door you came out of, Chris stands there for a couple seconds feeling like a moron before proceeding down the aisle to the wall of freezers to get what he came here for. He’s gotten his items and came back to the counter just as you walk back out of the door, of what Chris assumes to be a break room, carrying a first aid kit. He opens his mouth to object but you fix him with a glare that shuts him up. 

“Come here, i’ll fix it for you so you don’t kill yourself on the drive home.” You walk around the counter, stopping next to him to set the first aid kit on the counter. Chris’ eyes stay glued on your hands as you sort through the box and pull out the things you need. He’s never actually paid that much attention to you, always in a hurry to get home. Your hands actually look quite nice and when you touch him, your fingers carefully prodding at his jaw to get Chris to face you fully, he notes pleasantly that your hands are as soft as they look.  You’re not quick at patching his wound, you’re actually quite clumsy. 

Your hands shaky and unsteady as you pat the alcohol wipe around the area, sponging up blood and cleaning the cut. It stings but Chris is too focused on you, your hands, your eyes, your warmth. Your eyes are deep and dark, pooling with worry and concern as you take in the weathered look of his face. A small part of him has the wherewithal to try to feel self-conscious but the majority cant find it in him to care. You look almost as bad as him, worry lines on your forehead, dark bags under your eyes, anxiously chewed on lips. 

Your eyes fall to his once you've stuck a bandaid onto him and for a moment Chris swears he feels a spark in his gut, almost like butterflies when the two of you realize how close your faces actually are. But he doesn't get any time to ponder what that could mean as you turn away from him and hurry to clean your mess. You dump the used cloth and the wrappers into the trash as you walk around the counter and set the first aid kit to the side so you can ring him up. You’re quiet throughout the process and when you finish you quietly recite his total, not once during this do you look up at him. A part of him feels a little upset but that's overshadowed quickly by how amusing it  is to see you scurry around like that. 

Chris takes it easy on you and pays without a fuss, he takes his things and heads out to his car as you close up the store behind him. He waits long enough to see the lights go out and when he looks down at his receipt to total the money he’s spent, down at the bottom in a hurried scrawl he reads out your number.

[soft-likethesunset]

Salutations huzz

greetings ho

[restlessmaknae]

masterlist ✦ riize (ot7)

angst [🌪]  fluff [☀]  action [♦]  comforting [♥]

ANTON

✒ pimple patches ☀

boyfriend!Anton x female reader/you Doing skincare has never seemed so fun before doing it with your boyfriend, Anton.

[jokest3r]

Matvey-Lukyan Volkov-Makarov ☀

or "Matthew Clarke," really depends on who you ask...

General Info -

Name: Matvey-Lukyan Volkov-Makarov(True Identity is on a need-to-know basis)

Age: 19

Issued Identity: Matthew Clarke

Issued Age: 23

Issued Rank: Specialist

Callsign: "Kid" until Further Notice

Status: Alive

Ethnicity: Tajik

Nationality: N/A(His parents kept his existence fairly quiet, only his mentors and his parent's closest associates knew he existed for quite some time before he went missing when he was older. His parents when he was young did debate that he may exist under a different name in the legal system in Tajikistan but didn't look into it after Matvey was disinterested at the prospect of meeting his biological parents.)

Height: 5' 7

Blood-Type: O+

Weight: 145 Pounds / 67 Kg(He came weighing less than that.)

Further Info -

"All things considered the kid came out far better than anyone would have expected given who his parents are."

Matvey was adopted a little over at two months old along the border crossing between Russia and Kazachstan on a cargo road that showed little action. He never really thought about the reason why he was there or the what how, just that he would've died if not for intervention (lucky or damning) you be the judge.

He had a pretty fair upbringing if you don't bring up visiting warehouses with his father or playing with guns at a young age. He was originally raised to be just that, a son, however it would become more skewed as the year's went on and his father Makarov's power grew. Then his role went past being only a son and more of a "good soldier." Of course, what Matvey would've called his first "failure" was failing his mentors and by proxy, his father. His mentors said he would never be a soldier and neither would he be strong enough to fight. It just wasn't in his cards. After that, his father's expectations seemed to slow down to a simmer, and his approach became to hold Matvey at an arm's reach away from the Ultranationalist Party and revolving plans. He would be protected, but not without getting trained to protect himself and escape at a moment's notice.

Though Makarov obviously wasn't his only father, his extended family mostly comes from Yuri's side of the family. Matvey obtained personality traits from Makarov but was much closer to Yuri. Yuri's a sensitive topic as is most of everything in his life. Yuri and Matvey both have something in common and that is "abandoning" or in Matvey's case "running away." Yuri left, without a word or notice and Matvey chased after him, and only realised he wasn't coming back "home" after two months on the road with Lobo, his loyal guard dog. Exact details on the first year of Matvey's lone days have not been found, but not without some prying. All he has to show for it is the bloodied patch the 141 found him holding along with his belongings.

Matvey was found along the Chernobyl exclusion zone by 141 squad members bleeding out in the hospital safe house he had rigged with traps, bleeding out from a wound that a mercenary had done to him in retaliation for murdering his partner, forgetting about the long-term reward of keeping him alive and sending him back to his father. And instead attempted killing him for revenge. He said he lived well off for what he had. With his father's hired mercenaries on his tail, he couldn't exactly pick a lot of areas. They caught his scent a month before the 141 had found him, sending an SOS through a makeshift antenna but getting help when they were finally able to trace it with spare time on their hands. Matvey really hadn't intended on surviving to the end if at all.

Combat-Style: Matvey plays dirty, real dirty, most "end up killing themselves" before they even see his face. He uses traps, bombs, chemical warfare (has an inclination for using gas) throwing knives and all sorts. Usually, he keeps to having a good distance with any target and avoids close combat at all costs, if any combat at all. And tends to favor using escape tactics he's learned over his previous training. He's known by most to be very slippery and sly if he wants something over with quickly.

If with a squad on something serious he fills a support role: and (jokest3r's opinion: his support role is something similar to Elizabeth in Bioshock Infinite just without all the tears.) can find materials or target objects fairly easily since slipping through vents and getting out unseen is one of his best strengths and keeps him away from any of the serious fighting while still helping the team.

Personality: Matvey is naturally combative, moody, and "explorative" if the definition meant rule-breaking. He alternates between being quiet and isolated to being playful and rather "loud." He follows orders to a T, almost too closely like he's had past experience. He's self-destructive when it comes to most people as he doesn't want to care for much of anyone since all signs seem to point to anyone he cares for or stays with long term end up dying or disappearing one way or the other. Or abandoning him. He also tends to not understand social cues and is very affectionate even if the situation around him is dire. Warning: hugs and heartfelt conversations abound.

Allegiance: Matvey made it very clear where his loyalties lied, along with his goal to reunite with his father Yuri and gain some closure beyond bottling up all his anger and mourning for a father that doesn't seem to exist anymore. He's also seemingly gotten attached to some of the members, and would like to see them alive. When asked what that exactly meant he shrugged, thinking anyone else would've known what he meant.

As time passes the 141 hope to get Matvey out of his shell and influence him to grow and make better decisions. For now, Matvey will try to grow used to Western surroundings and hopefully, meet both his father's face to face, though he knows that it won't likely end happily. (FLAT COLOUR UNDERNEATH THE TAB)

[burekforsatoru]

sincerely, sunny: a masterlist

chapter one: sunny's first flower dance blues

☀︎ the stupid tradition that is the annual flower dance throws sunny into a pit of overthinking, once again being pushed aside and feeling like an outsider to where she is supposed to build a new life.

chapter two: save me

☀︎ sunny's expecting to see robin to help patch her up after a day in the mines, but sebastian bumps into her on his way out instead

chapter three: frogs and you

☀︎ sunny is met with a closed store yet again. as she ponders on what to do with the rest of the rainy day, sebastian shows up, offering to make the day only slightly better than it was promising to be.

chapter four: parallel play

☀︎ the luau is cut short for sunny as a rogue gridball finds its landing spot on her head.

chapter five: solarion chronicles

☀︎ the gang plays solarion chronicles and gives sebastian a hard time