#rambly fic thoughts

[rejectedbytheempty]

actually, ykw? imagine if simon had a civilian s/o and bc he’s constantly away and the partner is there most of the time anyways, he lets them decorate the place.

they make it so cozy with a million lamps with stained glass lampshades and tapestries on the walls and an unexpected number of stuffed animals on the bed.

one time, simon invites tf 141 to his flat and their jaws dropped, bc ofc simon didn’t warn them about the absolute pinterest board that his place was.

in fact, he hadn’t mentioned a partner at all, or to you that his team would be coming over so you’re still in one of simon’s raggedy old t-shirts with a handful of dry cereal halfway to your mouth.

it’s generally a shock for both parties, simon excluded, who seems to settle himself right in, kissing the top of your head, eyes crinkling slightly as he grins, looking rather like a cat showing off the bird he dragged in.

you had some choice words for him later, but for now, you brushed the crumbs off your face and wiped your hands off on your shirt before sticking your hand out to the team to introduce yourself.

surprisingly, it goes rather well. all things considered. the team is charmed by you and your ability to make ghost blush and smile endlessly. and you’re absolutely enamored with the fact that they keep complimenting your decor.

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[bubblingsteam]

[datkat08]

Zoro never cared for bath time… until bath time meant getting his head massaged by a certain cook’s masterful hands.

The first time it was done out of annoyance and an attempt to show the marimo how to wash his hair properly, but that effort seemed to go to waste considering that Sanji washes his mossy hair every time now.

Somewhere along the line it became a ritual; Zoro sits in the bath and Sanji settles in behind him and gets to work. Zoro actively looks forward to it at this point. Sanji swears Zoro acts more relaxed these days. Not that he has any complaints about it, it’s actually quite nice. It also means that Zoro bathes more often, thank god.

It started as hair washing, but eventually Sanji finds himself gently rubbing the mosshead’s temples and massaging circles into the back of his neck. He knows very well the importance of muscle care, especially with the flexibility required for his own combat style. He trusts that Zoro has his own regimen, but he figures it couldn’t hurt.

For Zoro’s part, the simple action means more to him than the curlybrow probably realizes. As a silent thank you, he stays after dinner each night and helps the cook wash the dishes. And Sanji understands. Because they know each other better than anyone, so they don’t need words.

[frownyalfred]

we really don’t write as many fuck or die fics as we used to

[littledoot]

I'd love to see Ghost as just a ghost that is possessing his outfit. Imagine grabbing the guy's mask and there's just fucking nothing under it. Terrifying. I think I would hate that immensely. It would be really funny though.

"Oh him? He's Ghost." "So is he a ghost or is he just called Ghost?" "Yes"

[galactic-rhea]

If I ever write a "Anakin doesn't fall to the dark side and Padmé doesn't die" you bet is going to be anything but a fix it AU, because the only thing fixed is that there's not Vader, but I'm still going to put these characters through some awful damn stuff.

Like, literal persecution, literal spending one night in a moon and the next day running for the lives. Stuff like Padmé having to leave a wounded Anakin behind as she runs with the twins. And then it's days before they reunite again.

Like Padmé didn't die, good. Anakin is still Anakin and he still has an incredible godawful amount of C-PTSD and unhealthy coping mechanisms and he was constantly in battle 3 days ago, he might react badly by punching someone until his hands are bloody just because someone used a whistle that sounded a bit like a battle droid. He doesn't sleep, he literally stands guard with his lightsaber in hand unable to sleep while the babies and Padmé get some sleep on the floor of some abbandonned shack in the middle of nowhere in non-described planet number 4th of the week.

Stuff like Anakin being torn with the "who will you save" (again) between staying with his family VS learning that Obi-Wan was captured (is even true, is that information true, how are you so sure).

Stuff like Padmé having to watch how the Empire records in live Holo-TV how her family is captured and being taken prisoners to try and rat them out, because they're getting on Palpatine's nerves.

Anakin losing his mind because he knows he was this close to, you know, killing everyone. And fearing he might as well still do it if the pressure skyrockets again because now isn't only Padmé, is her, and the twins.

Stuff like Anakin still somehow getting terribly injured and burned because it was written for him, apparently.

Stuff like yay, they're on the rebellion now, yay it's...it's still hell, there's not peace. Stuff like "Hey, Anakin, Padmé, have you thought that maybe is safer if the twins grow up somewhere else away from all of this, and you know, some stability?"

That kind of stuff.

I have so many ideas and only 700 words of it written somewhere on my phone 😩

[deviouz]

. . . mean jason todd !!

jason todd is the type to fuck you so good tears seem to permanently stain your cheeks and leave your skin feeling raw after all is said and done. he’d have your body contorted and folded in, knees pressed firmly against your chest and legs thrown over his broad, scarred up shoulders. he smirks so cruelly as he absolutely destroys your poor cunt, tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust of his hips.

“‘s the matter, pretty girl? you’re crying so pretty for me. got you drunk on my cock, don’t i?”

jason todd is also the type to grab your jaw and dig his fingers into your cheeks, pushing them together and laughing at the embarrassed whines that garble out of your throat. he’ll stare down at you with those pretty eyes of his, his gaze stern and unwavering, hips still snapping away without much thought. you’re practically drowning in pleasure as jason is ever so in tune with your body, what makes you tick.

“you gonna look at me when you come? i don’t want you lookin’ away from me, not even for a second. let me see that pretty face when i make you come on my cock, doll. that’s it, just like that.”

jason todd is just so mean to his pretty girl. he’ll mock your pleas just to make you repeat them loud enough your voice shakes and broken, desperate sobs push past kiss-swollen lips. if you don’t beg just right, he’ll show his thrusts, eyes focused on yours, as he smiles down at you, all sharp and all teeth.

“what was that? don’t think i quite heard you. say it again for me, yeah?”

jason todd will deny you of your release endless times, simply because he can. he gets a giddy joy at seeing how unabashed you can get at the continuous denial of release. you shake and cry and beg and thrash in his grip, but nothing ever seems to persuade him.

“you can come when i say you can, do you understand? now, be a good girl and shut the fuck up and just take it.”

likes + reblogs heavily encouraged and appreciated!!

[trialsofthedas]

SPOILERS FOR VEILGUARD —>

For those of you who have played and/or watched the scene that takes place after the dragon attack if you are a crow!rook who chose to save minrathous, you know this little line Viago throws at you?

“Because you always think of something. You always do. Except this time.”

Once again, I’m asking you guys to think about Lucanis having to tell Viago that rook is missing post-tearstone island. Because they don’t know where Rook is. They don’t even know if Rook is alive. All they know is they killed one of the gods, they did it, but the smoke cleared and solas is free but Rook is gone. and it’s WEEKS according to that Bellara romance scene.

Viago refuses to believe Rook is gone. Not Rook. Not the stubborn little idiot who had more lives than the feral street cats of treviso they so loved to pet. Not the little crow who spent years following Viago around with one hand always fisted in his cape until it was beat out of them to not show that kind of weakness. Not the little scrap of a being that succeeded for always being quick, but fell for their mouth that ran that much quicker. Not Rook, who he sent away to learn patience, to get them out of the hot seat and away from the other houses who wanted their head. Rook, who fought and won against gods and dragons and the blight. Not a crow who always completes their contract. Not Rook who was supposed to come home.

Not Rook. So Viago refuses to believe it. The first few days he clings so hard to the mantra. “Rook always thinks of something.” And they will come back and laugh and laugh and laugh at how worried Viago was and Viago will sigh and ring their neck and slip poison into their food to make sure they’ve been keeping up with their daily antivenoms— and Rook will be there.

But those days turn into a week, and then into two, and Viago hasn’t received any update from this so called ‘veilguard’ and all of the sudden “Rook always thinks of something.” is crumbling because what if this is the exception? this is the “except this time.” Because it is always until it’s not. and there is no time to truly mourn is there? there is still one god left to slay and very little time left to do it.

And Viago will fight. The loss of his… the loss to House de Riva is felt, but Viago is a professional. His wings are not clipped. ( his feathers are broken, hard shafts digging in and pulling blood from oozing cuts. they need clipped, groomed, removed. but his wings still work. they just hurt. ) He will finish this contract, in their name if nothing else.

But Viago let himself forget. “Rook always thinks of something.” And he let himself doubt and underestimate when he swore he would never be caught by those things again. but maybe this once, it’s okay. it’s okay because Rook stands in front of him, alive. Broken, but alive.

because a Crow always completes their contract, and a Rook will always come home to bother Viago.

Until they don’t

[capseycartwright]

kisses that travel from your lover's nose to their lips pretty please!

Eddie’s a little stupid with it, he knows. The flush in his cheeks doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere fast, and Buck joining him in the bathroom wasn’t exactly going to ease the pink blush any time soon. He’s a little stupid about it, drunk off endorphins and the  memory of Buck’s hands on his body, and still, Eddie can’t help but feel embarrassment snaking up his spine, Buck recognising the feeling before it could turn to shame clawing at Eddie’s throat.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Buck murmured, hands gentle as they came to rest on Eddie’s shoulders. Buck was beautiful. Eddie had always known he was beautiful, really, but it felt all the more evident now, Buck’s hair messy, and free of product, his own cheeks flushed pink and his eyes soft, the expression on his face more open than it had been in a while, no secrets left between them now. Buck was more beautiful than ever, there and then, and it was because Eddie could look all he wanted now, he knew – he didn’t have to tear his gaze away, keep up the pretence that he wasn’t madly, deeply in love with his very best friend. He could drink his fill and not worry about being caught doing something he shouldn’t be.

One, two, three.

Eddie took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“The words don’t have to be perfect,” Buck reassured. “But I’d like if you tried,” he admitted, Buck always better than Eddie at voicing his concerns. “We’ve just had sex, for the first time, and now you’re in the bathroom and you seem to be freaking out, a little, so I’m – well, I’m a bit worried, Eddie.”

“You don’t need to be worried,” Eddie shook his head, leaning back against Buck. He couldn’t help but look at the picture they painted, the two of them standing in front of the mirror, Buck’s chest broad and glorious, the smattering of random tattoos inked onto his skin patterns Eddie wanted to map every inch of. They looked like a couple – they were a couple, Eddie knew, but they looked so comfortable with each other, even now, roughly seventeen hours into their relationship, that it kind of stunned Eddie.

Buck’s palm was broad, as he flattened it against the expanse of Eddie’s stomach. It made Eddie feel small, and safe, and he sort of wanted to cry.

“I just – I didn’t know it could be like this,” Eddie admitted, thumb stroking Buck’s wrist. He wanted to touch every single inch of Buck all at once, physics bedamned.

“Sex?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah,” he let out a shuddering breath. “It feels like I just figured out everything I’ve been missing my whole life,” he paused, for a second. Sex had been a weird one, for Eddie. Sex had been nice, and strange, and awkward, in the beginning, and then it had been the only way that he and Shannon could communicate, and he’d ran from it, with Ana, and with Marisol it had felt like a performance: a box he needed to move their relationship to the next phase.

Sex with Buck had been exciting, and it had felt electrifying – and it had been fun, in a way Eddie hadn’t expected. Buck had tripped over his own feet in his rush to remove his socks, and it had sent Eddie into a fit of giggles that had only been silenced with a kiss Eddie had felt right in the tips of his toes, and then Buck had gotten his hands on Eddie’s dick and every thought Eddie had ever had, or could have, had gone right out of his head, the whole world narrowed down to Buck’s hands on his body. It had been a revelation, the way Buck’s body had moved against his own, gentle, and firm, strong as Buck had moved Eddie right to where he’d wanted him, over and over, wringing an orgasm out of Eddie that had him ascending to a higher plane.

“It wasn’t just the sex, though,” Eddie continued. Buck had been quiet, so in-tune with Eddie that he had realised Eddie hadn’t quite finished. After, when they’d done the awkward clean up, Buck had tucked Eddie under his chin, voice low as they’d talked, gentle hands scratching through the overly long strands of Eddie’s hair. It had been calm, and quiet, and Eddie had luxuriated in the feeling of being held.

Eddie twisted, in Buck’s arms. “It was the after,” he hummed, drinking in Buck’s face at such a short distance. It was different, looking at Buck like this, rather than in the mirror. Like this, he could admire the way Buck’s birthmark stood pink against his skin, the slight furrow of his brow and the way his breath hitched, as Eddie pressed his thumb into the divot of Buck’s shoulder, a place he’d come to think of as his, after all these years.

“The after?” Buck looked a little confused.

“I just – I didn’t expect the intimacy of the after, because I didn’t really have that before. Sex was – sex was different, before, for me, and I found it hard to want to just – stay in it, like we did,” Eddie explained, hands on Buck’s waist. “But I want to stay in it, with you. It was – it was nice. I felt nice. You made me feel good, Buck, not just during the sex – which was like, objectively great – but in the after.”

“I’ve always liked the after the best,” Buck admitted, sounding a little shy. “You see so much – so much vulnerability, from your partner, in sex, but you get just as much of that after, too. When sex was – when sex was transactional, for me, a way to try and fill this void of intimacy, I didn’t appreciate how good the after was – I didn’t understand that’s where there’s so much intimacy too.”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “I love you,” he hummed, the smile turning to a big, bright grin as Buck began to trail kisses down the bridge of Eddie’s noise, a giggle escaping his throat as Buck kissed the tip of his nose, moving his focus to Eddie’s cheeks, chin, and lips, finally, the kiss chaste compared to the ones they’d spent the last hour or so exchanging, but still one that Eddie could feel right to his toes.

“Is it always this easy?” Eddie asked, and he didn’t need to finish his sentence for Buck to know what to ask: was it always this easy, sex and intimacy?

“No,” Buck shook his head, pressing another kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Only with you.”

send me a kissing prompt

[chiricat]

sorry partner i just think you’re the coolest person on the planet. i have eyes for no one but you btw

[sboochi]

Now make them smooch 🔫

(Yes I mean hiijack)

(please)

Thank you for giving me an excuse I was missing them 🥺

[confessionseddie]

kerosene

buddie | 6.5k words | explicit emotional infidelity, buck/tommy, break ups, first times, AU post 7x06

He doesn’t— need more of Eddie. This is enough. This is plenty. This is more than anyone else has of him; he can deal with the marrow-deep want that’s begun to choke him every once in a while. So what if sitting next to Eddie makes his skin feel like it’s on fire. At least he’s sitting next to Eddie.

Buck pretends.

[johnconstantinesdick]

I get the criticism of the Hunters of Artemis from a narrative perspective—it sucks that it essentially boots interesting female characters out of the story—but it always baffles me when people viciously hate Artemis for *checks notes* doing damage control.

Like. Thalia explicitly goes with Artemis to avoid the prophecy, and I definitely think that’s the reason Artemis tried so hard to get her to join—hell, you can view the hunters trying to recruit Annabeth as a way to get Thalia to join. And Bianca? You can’t convince me that Artemis didn’t guess there was something up there and react accordingly.

If Percy or Nico were even a little bit girl-adjacent you bet your ass she would be all over them to join. No one actually wants to risk the Great Prophecy happening, and Artemis is doing a hell of a lot more to stop it than anyone else.

[frownyalfred]

Hi, you said "no I don't know him"/"he's my dad" and dealt me immediate psychic damage please say more words that hopefully make this better

(spoiler alert: nothing can erase the inherent tragedy of this)

the ask/prompt was about Dick and Bruce not acknowledging each other in the League, right? so kind of playing with this identity porn idea of Batman and Nightwing both being separate vigilantes working with the League with no outward, immediately obvious, or self-professed connection between them other than both being from Gotham (which might not even be something they reveal, for OpSec reasons).

Why would they choose to do this? Maybe Bruce wants to eliminate any connections between them to make it even harder to guess their secret identities. Having two pieces of the puzzle always makes it easier to solve than if you only have one.

Maybe Dick wants to be his own vigilante, separate from Batman's influence, and stand on his own with the League. Maybe he wants to put space between him and Robin, and asks Bruce not to fully acknowledge him outside of Gotham.

Maybe it's a mix of both? Or maybe it just never truly comes up, and both of them are too smart and well-trained as a default to give anything away in front of the League. Maybe the League knows that they know each other, that they've worked together before, but nothing more than that.

And what even ties Nightwing to Batman, really? Funding, the suit, the relationship to Robin, but none of those are immediately apparent. Gotham is a common denominator, but there are multiple vigilantes in most major US cities and Nightwing largely operates in Bludhaven. Training/fighting style? Also hard to identify without being in the know. Essentially, if they don't say anything to the League, how much can the average person even infer, much less notice?

So those two lines stuck out to me. In response to a well-meaning or confused League member asking if Dick knows Batman, he really only has two possible responses: "No, I don't know him" or the truth.

That there is a connection between them, and it's actually damn near sacred. He was, is, Batman's partner. He knows Bruce like almost no one else does. They're spoken about in the same breath. Or they were, once upon a time. They have mirrored beginnings, twin motivations. They fallback on each other, even when they're fighting bitterly. Dick is still who Alfred calls, when Bruce is in a self-destructive rut. And vice versa.

But what would prompt Dick to break that code of silence? I guess it depends on why it exists. And so for that second response -- "That's my dad" -- I was thinking of a situation where it was because of Dick's need to be separate from Batman. And Bruce obliges the secrecy, because it's logical and also Dick asked. But one day Bruce is injured on a mission, or hurting somehow, and the League is panicked trying to figure out what to do and Dick is right there. Batman's partner is a foot away and nobody knows. And Dick suddenly has to make a decision that is, in that instant, more easy than anything he's ever done.

"That's my dad."

[eywaseclipse]

We deserved more domestic family bliss scenes.

I was thinking about that non canon scene in the original script where Neytiri and Jake were at the communal dinner with the clan and she was breastfeeding Neteyam, and I wondered if she more than likely breastfed Kiri as well. Since she’d had a fresh milk supply and two newborn babies. I would assume she’d be doing so for Kiri. It would be adorable. And it’s a beautiful thought that Neytiri took Kiri in as her own and nourished her and bonded probably through Tsaheylu the first few months of her life.

This is all just me rambling.