#shortened the fuse.

[notaplaceofhonour]

I’m so so tired of dealing with people who come out swinging and then act surprised or scandalized when you match their energy

if you act like a dick to people unprovoked, do not be surprised when they tell you to fuck off

[tastycitrus]

made a bingo card for the remainder of the 10th anniversary story based on my baseless speculation

[elkian]

Fair enough. Probably the biggest change is how many people have a device on hand that CAN do that now, even if not at boombox levels.

As irritating as it is when people play TikToks or Spotify at full blast on their phones with no headphones, as a 90s kid, I must remind everyone that "asshole with a boombox" has been a Type Of Guy since long before smartphones ever existed.

Humans have been pissing each other off with loud unwanted sounds since forever. There's always That Asshole.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: You two can't keep your hands off one another as you come home one night, but a slight problem has you in a pickle: your birth control has just run out and you are all out of condoms. Not to worry, Simon assures you that he will pull out. But as you ride him you begin to question if you really want him to. Will he stick to his promise or will he give in to your need?

Word Count: 4.9 k

Warnings:

Your back bounces into the front door as Simon pins you against it as he is physically unable to wait to get inside before he is on you. The walk from the car to the apartment has already been long enough, you can’t expect him to stay away any longer, especially not after the needy way his hands were on you just moments before. He almost made it till you just had to go and pull him into you by tugging on his belt loops; you should have known that’s all it takes to make his resolve break so that he is unable to hold back his need to devour every inch of you.

It had all started on your way home as it always does when he is out with you and an urge hits that he can’t indulge yet: his hand that was gripped tightly around the top of your inner thigh as he drove began moving up slowly until it reached the inseam of your jeans where he pressed up against it as if he was trying to get a feel of your warmth through the thick fabric. The longer his hand massaged you through your clothes, the worse the ache got and the more he had trouble keeping his gaze from trailing back onto you at every chance until he had to force himself to look back at the road, biting his lower lip to focus on something other than his need to put his mouth on any part of you he could get.  

He did try his hardest to get you both inside before his composure broke, but even as the car came to a stop he knew it was too late. There is only so much he can control, he is a trained professional after all, but this isn’t military business; when it comes to those moments when his desire for you has reached its peak, there is no holding back. 

You are the perfect kind of intoxication and once he has you in his veins there is nothing left but to indulge until he is satisfied.

His mouth dominates your own as his hands cling around your cheeks to keep you completely at his mercy so that he can take you as he likes. It’s not even been five minutes, but he is already panting heavily from the ferocity in the desperate and insatiable way he captures your lips in open-mouthed kisses and the sound of his yearning makes your heart skip. 

“Si,” you moan the shortened version of his name against his lips in between gasped breaths.  

Christ, the way it rolls off your tongue is an aphrodisiac to him and before he can think he is already rock hard and throbbing against your hip. You would think he hadn’t had you in months with the urgency in which he claims your mouth with his until your skin burns from the aggression; the immense intensity in that moment has your knees buckling.   

Your head is spinning with each passing minute as he grunts into your mouth, the feeling of your kiss too good to keep quiet about…but he needs more. Suddenly, his tender lips leave yours stinging as Simon nuzzles across your cheek, eyes closed and moving off of feel alone, and soon his hot breath is at the side of your head as his lips ghost near your jaw before they land. They leave burning kisses in their wake while they travel down towards your neck. 

“Fuck,” he exclaims with that husky tone into your skin, “I need ta feel ya, baby.”

Moving between the contours of your fused bodies his desperate hands locate the button on your jeans and with a bit of struggle, he undoes them. Both of those meaty paws are shoved inside the front before he even gets the zipper down. There’s a hiss on his tongue as his hands fill with all your soft, warm skin just inside your clothes. 

“Gotta get ya inside ‘fore I fuck ya right here ‘gainst the door,” he says in a deep, breathy whisper. 

The ache in his voice makes your skin prickle with anticipation of what’s to come as the vibration from his deep register makes your clit throb. His neediness is overwhelming, worming its way inside your head until you can’t think of anything else outside of the sensation of his touch along your curves, the yearning in his depraved kisses, and the way his words set your soul on fire with passion.   

“I’m sure the neighbors would love that,” you say, quickly followed by a high-pitched moan as he drags the sharp edge of his teeth over that rapidly pounding vein at the side of your neck.

You hold his face tighter against you, forcing him to suck at the spot, his heated, sticky breath moistening your skin as the pressure from his lips leave you in a daze. His calloused hands continue harshly pawing at your body as he situates his knee between your legs up against the door to steady himself and without thinking you take that as an invitation to grind against his thigh to relieve some of the ache that is making you lose your mind.

He can’t stop himself from following your lead and soon you are both greedily humping each other, desperately trying to get as much friction going as possible, not actually caring if anyone catches you two going at it. You can feel his mouth upturn into a smile against your neck. “They’d be so lucky to see me fuck a gorgeous thing like ya, sweetheart,” he growls into the skin.

What’s breathing again? You’ve lost the ability completely after that line. 

Fuck, Simon doesn’t want to take his hands off you, but you have got to get inside and quick or else his little joke might become a reality with the way you two keep grinding on one another. But if he wants to get these clothes off you, and fucking hell does he want to, he’s going to have to open the door.

Under duress, he removes one of his hands from within your pants and searches his pockets for his keys. The jingle of metal clinking together is heard as he pulls them out and flips through the set until his fingers find the one he needs. It takes him several tries to stab the key into the lock, relying strictly on sound and feeling alone to be sure he has it and finally that familiar click hits his ears over the sound of your combined heavy breathing. 

The front door ricochets off the wall behind it as Simon flings it open with a bit too much force before he staggers his way inside with you plastered to his body, his lips feverishly back to capturing yours in their embrace as you enter. He can't get in fast enough; he desperately needs to get you fucking naked and now. 

Grabbing the door with his hand, he slams it closed before making you both tumble to the floor and pinning your body between him and the living room carpet. “Can’t make it,” he groans in agony as if the bedroom is miles away. 

It’s not like your naked body hasn’t felt the fibers of the carpet dig into it before. 

Now that you are safely inside, his lust is unable to be controlled. Just the feeling of you under him has him panting into your open mouth like an animal in heat, barely able to kiss you as it feels so fucking good. He runs those coarse hands over your delicate curves through the opening he’s created in your pants and up under the bottom hem of your shirt over your stomach. 

His groans turn into a bassy whimper as you begin to explore his body as well, fingers running up under his shirt to caress the muscles along his torso up towards his chest, your arms taking his t-shirt with you as you go until it reaches his neck and he lets you pull it off over his head. The skin is pink with the heat from his arousal making his blood run hot like fire through his limbs. Moving up onto his knees he leans on his calves, his head falling back in ecstasy as you glide your touch through the hair that covers his chest and abdomen; just your touch is stimulating enough to have him ready to burst. 

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes as your hand slips lower over those bulging muscles as they ripple, the bliss from your silky touch almost too much to handle. You catch his stare and lock it in your pining gaze as the tips of your fingers slip over his naval and down onto the clasp of his pants and a deep, guttural moan is dragged out of his throat as you skillfully undo it and shove your way inside.   

Your hand brushes against the bulbous tip of his cock and his whole body shudders. “F-fuck,” he gasps under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open as your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke up and down within the confines of his pants. It doesn’t take long and he is bucking, rolling his hips to fuck your hand as your fist tightens more around him. The constriction only makes the movement of his hips more feverish as he succumbs to the feeling of the friction. 

He lets you go on until he can feel the first twinges of pressure building inside and that’s when he knows he’s had enough; there is so much more he wants to do to you and if he comes now it’ll all be over too soon. Opening those brown eyes, now with their blown out pupils, he runs his tongue over his dry lips and looks down at you as he removes your hand from around his cock and tugs it out of his pants.

“Come ‘ere to me, pretty girl,” he groans as he drags your hips forward onto his knees so you have to wrap your legs on either side of his wide, bulky torso. “Need these fuckers off.” 

Those girthy fingers hook themselves into the waistband of your jeans, making sure to latch into the top of your panties as well, and with a hard tug he is wrenching them both down off your hips, continuing down the line of your legs. Your body is aching so bad for his touch that everywhere he makes contact against you feels like ecstasy and all you want is more. You pull your legs back to tuck them against your chest so he can rip your pants all the way off and toss them away. 

Your ears pick up the sound of Simon’s sharp inhale as he gets sight of that sweet thing between your thighs. One look is all it takes and the inside of his mouth begins to salivate as he leans over your body to place his raw lips to your abdomen just below your naval as your body squirms under his touch from each warm caress of his mouth. The short, bristly hair that covers his jaw pricks against that overly sensitive skin until your back arches off the ground and you start to whine as it is almost too much for you to take.

“Need ta make ya come,” Simon whispers his feral plea into your stomach. “Need ta hear it, need ta feel it…”

His thought trails off as his lips wander down lower to stop at the sparse hair covering the top of your nude pussy. He pauses for only a few seconds to take it all in; God, he would never get tired of seeing it. But as much as he admires the look of it, there is something he needs even more and he can feel his taste buds tingling across his tongue to get at it.

“Need ta taste it…” he says, frantic and desperate. 

Your brain is so strung out that you haven’t fully comprehended his words as you open your eyes and see Simon repositioning himself, sliding out from under you and moving onto his stomach in between the divide in your legs. With his fingertips gripping into each of your thighs, he pushes them apart and keeps them spread as he immediately dives face first into the gap he has made with a hunger that makes him wildly delirious. 

There’s something you need to remember to tell him, something important pertaining to this exact situation, but the minute his mouth is on those tender lower lips your ability to think is gone. His mouth pin heavy kisses to your petals before his wide tongue flattens against the curve of your pussy and pushes up tight until the pressure causes you to fidgeting your hips against his face. 

Back and forth Simon slips his tongue over you until he pushes through the threshold of your sex and drags it up the length, coming to rest up against that bundle of nerves towards the top. He can feel your heartbeat through the throbbing in your clit and his eyes roll back in his head as he loses himself inside the haze of his passion; if he could live between your legs, he would definitely call it home. 

You are already a little wet and he can taste your arousal in his mouth as he takes the tip of his tongue to roll it delicately over your clit and you squeeze your thighs together around his ears in response to the intense pleasure that one simple movement produces. Keep doing shit like that and he isn’t going to be able to contain himself. 

Simon tries to keep his tongue steady and slow, but the longer he stays buried in your pussy, lapping at you like he’s been starved of it, the harder it is to contain himself. He’s obsessed. Every desperate sound you make, every writhe of your body, makes him greedy for more; he is eager to do whatever it takes to turn you into a complete mess and that means only one thing- overstimulation.

Releasing one of your thighs, he moves his palm to rest under his chin and brings two of his bulky fingers to align them with your entrance. He keeps his tongue on your clit and thrusts the pad against it as he sinks his middle fingers up into you. Those dark eyes dart up over the line of your body to watch your back arch up high off the floor while you cry out in incoherent moans as you are suddenly stretched out from the size of his digits.  

His fingers fill up your pussy as deep, come hither strokes work on your G spot over and over in rhythm until he has your body dripping. The mixture of your juices and his spit from your clit dribbles down into his hand and collects around his chin. This is exactly what he is looking for: the more your wetness gathers on his face, the more feral he becomes until his sanity is gone and only a mindless creature hell bent on ruining you remains. 

No more calm caresses now; he needs this raw and dirty. He wants his face to be slathered in your cum.

Tilting his head to the side, he takes a deep breath. “Rock your hips inta me,” he grunts his hasty demand with his mouth still against you before plunging back in.

Planting your feet firmly onto the floor, you pick up your hips slightly and slowly begin to rut against his face as his fingers curl up inside of you and his tongue continues to tease your clit. The sensation is unlike anything else, riding his face and fingers at the same time. How is this man a master at using every single part of his body? 

Simon hums his praises into you for how good you are at following orders and you can feel the vibration from his lips; that adds something even more magnificent to the equation and soon there is a warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach that you recognize- you are close. 

Your core is clenching around his fingers something fierce, your swollen walls bearing down on him with each thrust of your hips as he laps up the mess you are making to keep it from being wasted on the carpet. As your leg muscles begin to shake near his ears, he knows that you are about to come and his already depleted breathing hitches as he waits to feel it.

“Sh-shit,” you whimper as your nails dig into the carpet. “Gonna come, Si.”

A few more moans and then you fall silent as all that pressure is right at the peak, so close you can almost taste it, and with a few more thrusts of his tongue and buck of your hips and your body contracts as your orgasm tears through you. 

Simon sneaks one gasping breath just as your thighs clamp down rigidly around his ears, blocking him in against you so that he can’t get free until you are finished. The entirety of your high you ride out with him licking, sucking, and fingering until you sink into the floor, breathing through the pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, breathing hard as his face emerges from you with a contented smile on his glistening lips. 

Pushing himself up, he moves back onto his knees in front of you before taking the back of his hand and wiping it across his lips to remove the coating leaking down his chin. “Ready for more?” he smiles.

All at once the thought comes flooding back into your mind through the clarity that getting off has given you, that thing you are supposed to tell him, as he slides the waistband of his jeans down over the curve of his ass and pulls his cock out. Goddamn he is hard, the tip swollen and throbbing with the beat of his heart as he moves in.

Quickly, you stagger up onto your elbows to look at him. “Wait,” you choke out as he slides back up close against you.

“Need a break?” he asks, slightly out of breath still.

You don’t want to stop, God, you want him in you so bad it hurts, but there’s a problem. “Ran outta birth control,” you stammer out. “Do we have any condoms?”

Even in your delirious state you already know the answer; you haven’t bought anything for a while as you had never had any trouble with your pills until now. Simon looks back at you and shakes his head, confirming your suspicions and you fall back down onto your back defeated.

“Don’t wanna stop,” you whine pathetically as you feel him move, thinking that you’ll have to stop, but Simon is quick to crush your fears.

"Listen,” he says as he leans over top of you, cupping your cheek to pull you into a quick kiss as he holds himself up with the other, “I'll be careful. Swear I'll fuckin' pull out."

His cock presses against you as it hangs freely out of his pants. Without thinking he slowly grinds the veiny shaft up against your pussy, his hardness stroking over your clit until your juices are dripping all over it. All that slick, all that warmth, and Simon is losing his goddamn mind, but he won’t put it in, not until you say.

You are already so drunk off the euphoria of your orgasm that there is no way you’re gonna say no to that, not when the need to keep this going for as long as possible is all you want. The more his cock slips between your petals the more you agree with his idea until the only thing left in your hazy mind is the need for him to be inside you- now. 

“Promise?” you ask.

“I swear,” he reassures. “Don’t wanna stop either. Wanna be inside ya too.”

“Okay,” you agree enthusiastically and he gives you one more heated kiss in confirmation. 

Slipping through you a few more times just to be sure he is good and coated, he pulls back and sets the tip right at your opening. “Jus’ breathe,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips as he sinks the tip of his cock inside and with one fluid thrust he plunges in fully until his cock completely disappears inside.

The fucking stretch of him is sublime, the usual slight discomfort from it near nonexistent as your body is more than ready to take him in. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out as your mind is consumed with the feeling. 

There is no restraint left in Simon to keep him in check; the high he feels from being inside you is too much and he wastes no time in setting a punishing pace. Bulky arms move underneath you to tilt your hips upwards as his hips snap into you with ruthless force until he’s pounding into you so deep his vision blurs and he must resort to sounds to convey his thoughts. 

Each thrust is emphasized with a primal groan from him as both your bodies start to glisten with perspiration from the exertion of the brunt of his desire for you that makes him pound into your dripping hole with fervor. Minutes pass in this hazy ecstasy until he decides that he needs a change of position. As good as you look beneath him, you are a true fantasy when you are on top and he craves that right now. 

“Need ya ta ride me, baby,” he murmurs. “Can ya do that?” 

You nod quickly; as long as he keeps making your body feel this way, you’ll do whatever he wants.

Making sure you are secure in his arms, he pulls out of you only long enough so that he can roll you both over until you are now the one on top. Getting you situated he immediately thrusts back inside and you instantly plant your hands firmly onto his chest, using it as leverage. Pushing down against his chest you begin to bob up and down on your knees as best as you can over the bulk of his body to stick to the relentless pace that he had already set. 

Simon runs his hands up and down your bare thighs as he takes in the view of you perched on top of him: your pretty eyes glazed over, your hair a beautifully disheveled mess hanging down around your face, your tits bouncing in tandem with you beneath your shirt. You are utter perfection as you ride. Those needy hands begin to roam up higher and higher over your stomach, pushing your shirt up as he goes until he can reach your breasts so that he can get at them to play with the nipples to make you whine.

Fucking hell, every inch of you is like a dream. And it’s all his.

It isn’t long before your movements start to get sloppy as the euphoria of it all draws you closer to your second release. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss. That familiar pressure at the base of your spine is already building again and as long as you keep this rhythm you will be coming in no time. 

Even as you are lost in it all, ready to finish again, an irrational need creeps into your mind that you have never had before. The thrill of the risk is mind-numbly good, but this new though amplifies all that by ten. What if he didn’t pull out?  

It’s crazy, you know, but something about it just sounds so right. The delicious thought consumes your mind, making your limbs tingle with excitement. Screw the consequences, you can figure it all out later. Why the idea popped in your head in the first place, you don’t know, but now that it is here, you can’t get rid of it. You need Simon to come in you.  

“Don’t… pull…out,” you stammer out shakily. 

Simon’s head pops up. Did he hear that right? No, he must be so far out of his mind that he is not able to comprehend your words right now. “What?” he asks.

Your legs lock around his sides as you continue to bounce in that steady rhythm with no sign of stopping. “Want you…to come… inside me. Please, Si. Need it.”

Oh, God. It’s like a switch that gets flicked on in his brain as you plead with him to fill you up and all at once that absolutely feral part of his brain that has been kept dormant all this time is awakened with a fury.

Fuck, it's all over now. 

There is no possible chance in hell that he isn’t going to give in to that. He's so high off the feeling of you riding him into oblivion that any consequences that may come do not even register. So what if you have an accident? He’s confident that he’d be just fine with that. Shit, he loves you to the moon and back, so it’s not much of a risk in the end if a product of your love just happens to come from this. Right now the risk is worth the reward.

“Fill… me up,” you continue to beg. “Please…almost there.”

His mind is already made up. "Christ,” he groans desperately, “can't say no to that, pretty girl. Want me ta fill ya, that's what your gonna fuckin' get."

His large hands lock tight around your hips to hold them down as he strikes his hips up into your pussy, taking control to slam up into you from below harder and harder. The clenching of his abdominal muscles from each thrust has the sweat dripping over the contours of his chest. You take every last delectable inch he gives you as the room fills with the wet sounds of your bodies slapping against each other. Your mind is all static now, so lost within the bliss of your union that you can’t stand it and he isn’t far behind.

“Don’t stop…Dont’ stop,” you whine, your body shaking as he slams into you over and over again. 

“Never,” he grunts, trying to keep together through the overwhelming pressure gathering deep within him that threatens to throw him over the edge at any moment; you have to come first, that’s his rule. 

That warmth is almost at its peak again, the pressure rising harshly at the base of your spine; just a little more and you’ll be there. You’re barely hanging on by a thread, excited to experience being stuffed full by the only man you ever want to claim you. Fuck, you want him to claim you so bad it hurts.

A few more seconds of his roughness as you are jostled atop him and that is it, like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your second orgasm tears straight through you with such force you nearly fall off him, but Simon keep you upright. 

Finally he can let himself go. He’s nearly there, just a bit more and he is going to fill you full. A few more ragged, desperate thrust and he is spilling inside of you. A loud groan rips through his chest as he releases all that warm liquid up into you, milking his cock until he has nothing more left as he keeps your hips pinned to his; you had wanted this and he is going to be sure you get everything you want. His hips continue slowly moving against yours as he works you both through your highs for the next couple of minutes until it subsides and he comes to a stop, completely spent. 

“I’ve got ya, I’ve got ya,” he murmurs softly as you fall forward onto him and he cradles you against his burning chest while you continue to whimper faintly as your body shakes with the force of your lingering orgasm. 

Never have you come so hard before and fuck, neither has he.

Simon clings to you, gently rubbing down your back until your breathing calms and your heart stops thudding so violently; only then does he carefully pull out of you and help you move to his side. With nothing to plug you up, you can feel a warm gush that runs down to your thigh, a sticky reminder of what just happened. Simon catches a glimpse of it and it makes his heart thud to see all his milky white cum dripping out of you; the ultimate claim to what is his.

Propping himself up onto his elbow, he lays a heavy arm over top of you and wraps it around your back to pull you tighter into him. “We might ‘ave a problem,” he chuckles as he kisses your heated cheek. 

“What’s that?” you ask exhaustedly.

“Think I just found my favorite thing to do with ya,” he whispers. “And from the way ya just came, I might have ta do it again.”

[47lake]

home to you

synopsis: while billie is away on tour you get desperate and call her, she guides you through a quick release with the help of her voice and a pillow.

‼️: smut, pillow riding, phone sex, dom!billie, sub!reader, cussing, praise, pet names, w/c: 415

you clung to your phone, pressing it closer against your ear. her warm voice coursing through your veins like lightning.

“think of me and tell me how much you miss me.”

you were straddling a pillow, rolling your hips against it as billie led you through your satisfaction. your girlfriend had been away on tour, you needed this so much more than she knew.

“miss you.. miss you so much bils..”

you could practically hear her cocky smile oozing off of her words.

“such a good fucking girl.”

chills traveled down your spine, you hadn’t realized quite how much you had been longing to hear those words again. ropes of ‘mhm’s and quiet whimpers dripped from your lips.

“that pillow doesn’t feel as good as riding my thigh though. isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

a loud moan escaped your throat as you remembered the feeling of her hands on your hips, guiding your pace to her liking. the way her eyes would lock onto your heat, the way your slick coated her skin, how she’d smile as you came undone against her.

“answer me.”

you instantly snapped out of your daze.

“never as good as you.”

you rolled your hips faster, your free hand gripping the pillow tightly as you barely kept yourself together. you were desperately trying to make this last as long as possible.

“i miss you so much, pretty. don’t you miss how good i make you feel?”

the spark inside you began to burn brighter as she spoke, she knew only her words could have this much of an impact on you.

broken and frustrated whimpers fell from your tongue, hardly able to hold yourself together, her voice alone could drive you to the edge. she loved it.

“speak up, princess.”

she could tell you were struggling, but she needed to hear your voice. you always sound so pretty like this, she just can’t help herself.

“yes, fuck! yes, i miss it so much..”

you were hardly able to speak between your whines. your fuse only shortening as your hips bucked, so eager for release.

“bils-!”

you couldn’t manage to get the words out anymore, your moans and cries only able to leave your lips.

“it’s okay, my love, i know. let it all out for me.”

your release took over like a spark to gasoline, engulfing you entirely. your breath finally reaching a steadier rhythm as you rode out your high.

“i can’t wait to come back home to you, baby.”

this is not my best work but i’m desperately trying to escape writers block, bear with me better things are coming i promise ! 🧟‍♀️

i’ve also been going back and changing the format on some of my older fics to make them easier to read, so if you haven’t seen those feel free to go look at them if you’d like! i’m not quite done reworking them but i am close ! 🙂‍↕️

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[notsobubbly]

"Your obsession and insistence on personal responsibility is incredibly annoying, Akiyama."

"No, this is not your fault. You don't deserve to have that peace of mind, frankly, but it irritates me that you think you're that important to my life. I had cast you out of my mind and all but forgotten you long before I was cooped up in here. I'm not a brokenhearted damsel, nor is this a fairytale with simple solutions. I have actual problems."

The last vestige of patience and indeed, any warm regard he'd once managed for Ryou was killed off by the boy's own words. He didn't want to hear it out?

Even his own mother, the person Osamu hated most in this world, managed to ask how therapy has been every once and a while.

"If you still ache to help me, then I ask that you leave Ken alone from now on. Someone with your capacity of emotions can't possibly be of any use to either of us. It'll be better for everyone if you stay out of it."

“... I want to believe you’re not here because of… that. I don’t even want to think about it, or to hear it out.”

He was opting to pretend he did not hear that. Was it his fault? That Osamu is stuck in that place? Did Osamu really try to…

“Please, don’t tell me. I know what you meant. And I’m afraid I might have caused part of this too.”

Osamu is right. Ryo feared him. Ryo definitely feared Ichijouji Osamu. But at the same time he wanted to believe they were friends, maybe only him thought that.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he could say.

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Fates of antagonists in Grishaverse:

Jan Van Eck: Imprisoned (possibly put in an asylum).

Pekka Rollins: Lives a rich lifestyle with his son somewhere.

Tante Heleen: Her brothel went out of business. Lives a rich lifestyle, possibly started a new business somewhere else.

Previous King of Ravka who bankrupted the country, did nothing but rape servant girls: Sent off to live a rich lifestyle while he still can (shortened life because of his sickness).

Previous Queen of Ravka who did nothing but spend money and only protected her favourite servants from the King. But later removed her protection from Genya and let the King rape her: Gets sent off to live a lavish lifestyle in sunny Southern Colonies.

Jarl Brum, a genocidal maniac, who revolutionized Grisha hunting, made new weapons, new strategies, new training systems just to hunt down Grisha in every corner of the world to kindap them, dehumanize them in countless ways, experiment on them and later kill them. The man who either killed Grisha after a sham trial or drugged them until they died, who forced Grisha women to get pregnant over and over while drugging them, the man who bombed Ravka's capital, who draws satisfaction from their suffering because he thinks Grisha are vermin and insult God by existing: Gets spared multiple times and later loses his rank. Because apparently, he's "only a product of the system and Fjerda made him that way". As if he wasn't the main force enforcing that system, as if he didn't brainwash children and made them make killing as many Grisha as possible their life goal.

The Darkling who fought for basic human rights for his people for centuries, made a school and a law to keep Grisha children from getting sold off and slaughtered and to give them education, placed older Grisha under the protection of nobles since Grisha were still formally King's property, didn't send unprepared children to the front lines like the First Army did, dealt with threats from Fjerda and Shu Han, kept Ravka functional even with the Fold separating the country: Gets killed by a bunch of schoolchildren and deserters who haven't even seen real war, his centuries of work gets erased and his name is more demonized than ever. In his absence, the Second Army is in shambles, the economy collapses, Grisha get kidnapped off the streets and get experimented on and dehumanized, Fjerda bombs the capital, the protagonists can't figure out any measures to ensure Grisha will be safe in their own country. Later he gets brought back to life only to be forced to clean up the protagonists' mess, makes Zoya a saint, gets made fun of because the narrative (the author) magically solves centuries of prejudice and genocide for Zoya to be accepted but shits on his attempts, gets eternal suffering while being fused to a tree as a thank you.

[anantaru]

okay but imagine making out w kazuha

cw. making out with kazuha <3, gn! reader

smooth lips— as smooth as silk, follow the trace of your jaw as kazuha without required haste, moves himself to your lips at last.

to the casual eye, he was suavely charming, a man who did not fear any forthcoming adventures ahead of himself. yet you— his sweet love, knew a whole different side of him that he deliberately kept concealed— one which was littered with deep, passionate feelings.

your kazuha was gentle and kind, sweet and wonderful while his love for you burned like a raging fire, though he portrayed this flickering emotion as unruffled and calm as a serene sea.

now, another precise twist and his skilled tongue rangers over your wet muscle, mapping out each and everything you gifted him— and the man catches himself molding into the shape of your lips as if attempting to fuse and relish your warm touches in double measure.

kazuha catches a shortened chime and laughs softly when he listens to your whimpers, a humming and soft kind of laugh that felt suited for this feverish situation, "am i moving too fast for you?" he wonders, voice low and sultry, bordering on becoming even sweeter.

"tell me." he plants a tempting peck on the tip of your nose, "and your wish is my command."

"no, don’t worry you're not." you smile away the gleaming flustered expression on your face, kissing his lips again, "you’re not at all—" and cut him off at last as your tongue slithered past his mouth again. kazuha deeply hums into your kiss as he slides his hands up your sides and something in your throat must've snapped as you whined out yet again, maybe it was the way he touched you, the way he added enough softness while alarming you of his need.

profoundly was the reason a more simple one— you're face to face, squeezed into one another and thirsty, and you breathe a little heavier when you heard your boyfriends first little gasps and hisses.

kazuha was just unfairly sexy, it almost stung and pained you to have someone so beautiful worship your every square. and then you remember that above everything and all, of course, he was yours and you were his.

no words couldn't possibly describe this pleased gratefulness ..

.. though a couple kisses certainly could.

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

[help-i-lost-my-sock]

Period Comfort HCs - Buddha

A small gift for @buddhascandy , with thanks for the prompt, and getting me to write this! Enjoy 😘

Word count: 483

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

- First of all, Buddha knows how periods work. He won't expect you to "just hold it in" or other nonsense like that.

- He never asks if you're on your period or something when you get pissy at him as a way to shut you up. He's way better than that.

- Buddha understands that it's rough, and you're in pain. He can also imagine that being in near constant pain for days on end can thin your patience and shorten your fuse. He doesn't blame you. He'd probably be cranky too if he were in your shoes.

- He never puts you down for it. He won't tell you that you're being dramatic, or irrational because of it.

- Buddha would care for you by doing small things for you, like making you tea, or bringing you a water bottle or a blanket, or giving you a massage.

- If you don't wanna go out, and would rather laze on the couch, he's down. He'll bring snacks and blankies.

- He'll probably eat most of the snacks himself, though, but will get you more if you ask him to.

- Might give you some push back on the films you pick, but will usually give in pretty quickly, as he remembers that you're having it tough enough already.

- That having been said, Buddha will also not pamper you like you're helpless. He'll try to ease your pain and make you more comfortable, but will not put up with what he may consider unreasonable demands. We all know that he does as he pleases, which may at times stir a bit of a face off.

- I think we all know what it's like to get cranky over nothing during those days. Buddha isn't too fussed about it, and will toss little chocolates at you, simultaneously providing you with chocolate, while also pissing you off for a laugh.

- But he's Buddha, and you love him, so you could never stay mad at him for long, especially not when you look down and realise he's been tossing your favourite chocolates at you.

- He'll urge you on to eat your chocolates, since sugar is a painkiller.

- He'll tell you jokes and stories, whether from his life on Earth or things that have been happenning around in Valhalla while you were resting, to try to distract you from your pain.

- When your cramps are particularly bad, he'll recommand you do breathing exercises, and offer to meditate with you, or guide a meditation for you.

- Being in pain, you'll try to tell him exactly where to shove his breathing excercises and meditation, before another wave of cramps hits you like a train, and you concede to give it a try.

- You end up falling asleep, as Buddha smiles down at you, and gently brushes your hair out of your face. He'll tuck you in, and place a kiss on your forehead, before heading off and letting you rest.

[whalesforhands]

the flowers that bloom without you (tartaglia x reader)

warnings: I LOVE CHILDE SO MUCH, angst, blood and slight gore descriptions, hanahaki au, reader is not traveller, reader is childe’s childhood friend

“Does love truly need words?”

Ajax never really understood what you meant by that. Never really got your cryptic bouts of speech as you stared out the window, blanket tucked over your form as you listened to the bustling of the city, your face looking weary, bags under your eyes dark, skin almost icily cold whenever he would lay a hand upon you to personally check on your condition.

From personal nurses, personal doctors, hells, even researchers that he paid extensively to search for the cause of your illness. Yet, an answer had yet to be found, he’s growing restless with every passing day, anger and irritation swirling in his head with every lower-rank recruit he inevitably beats to a pulp to release stress.

Just what was the source of this stubborn disease?

Your condition would never get better if you had stayed in the cold, unforgiving climates of Morepesok.

You would only seek to worry him whilst he was out on the job, thousands of miles away from you. His family can only do so much by informing him of your worsening, deteriorating self. Your insistent coughs, your shortened breaths, a body that seemed to be growing colder and colder that rivalled the icy winds of the small fishing village that you both grew up in.

Another thing Childe has noticed in the time you spent writing each other, was that you liked to prance around the truth.

You weren’t getting better like you claimed in those letters.

He doesn’t ever wish to come home only to see your tombstone. He could never begin to even fathom the thought. So upon the news in which he had orders to depart to the warmer atmosphere of Liyue, he whisked you away.

(Despite your initial rejections.)

He’s not taking anymore chances. Not when you had insisted that it was nothing, that you’ll be fine, only for it to end with you collapsing to the ground right before him, mouth spewing globs of blood that had caked up and solidified within your throat. He didn’t know whether he was more disgusted to that sight, or of himself for being too patient with you.

Though, you seem to be having quite the improvement to your wellbeing ever since you’ve arrived in the bustling city of Liyue.

“A crush? All of a sudden?” He’s chewing on some sweet potato snacks he had bought for you to come try together, a bag of the aforementioned snack on his lap as he opens his mouth to let you throw another into his mouth for him to catch. The odd, salty sweetness is actually quite addicting.

(And so were the giggles you made whenever he successfully caught one.)

“It’s not all of a sudden!” You’re huffy, defensive, angry and quite frankly, offended as you cross your arms, lightly smacking him as he feigns pain, an overly dramatic yelp and rubbing of his injury following.

“I had it— Since—“ It’s cute how you fight to find the words, puffing your cheeks up, growing determined as you look back up at him. “Since a really long time, okay?! That’s how you know feelings like that are real!”

Always the hopeless romantic. He laughs at you as you continue to blow a fuse, warmth emanating in his chest as he notices the drastic improvements to your health.

You’re looking bright today. Face more coloured, hair even shinier than usual, eyes brighter than they have ever been before. Maybe you were getting better.

A light flick to your forehead as he watches you swipe at his hand with a blush and a smile.

“Why don’t you just confess then?”

You grow silent.

“I… don’t think I could find it in my heart to.” Your tired eyes trail out to the bustling city of Liyue as your demeanor falls back into a calm, eyes blanking out as murmured words are caught on his ears. “Falling in love is so unpredictable…” His fists clench.

He thinks you’re stupid, foolish even, to keep those messy, deep feelings hidden from this secret crush of yours. Those stringent secrets you keep, never telling them. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You slap your cheeks, as if to snap out of your trance choosing to smile up at him from atop your bed instead. l swear I will find that strength one day!”

You’re so stupid. Yet, he still loves you all the same. You are his dearest childhood friend, after all.

(And that’s all you’ll ever be… Right?)

——

The festival is loud this year. You stare out of your bedroom window, barely able to see the explosion of colour against the starry night sky, obscured by tall buildings and infrastructure.

“Miss Lumine invited me to watch the lantern rite with her today!” His eyes are alight with mirth, his grin excited and just so… Full of life.

Ajax always looked the prettiest when he was happy.

So it’s okay. Whatever is okay as long as he is happy. Anything for him.

You don’t even mind the feeling of the flowers blooming deep within you. The itch in your throat, the fluttering you had to endure in your lungs.

You do it for love. Love so deep-sated and rooted to your very core, it hurts. Love so hard to describe, you sometimes fear that it doesn’t exist until you see him walk into the room, causing the blooming, the feelings literally swirling within your lungs, shortening your breaths as the petals flutter about in your heart.

You’re in love with him. Unbelievably, helplessly so.

You can’t even feel the hot tears dripping onto your hands as lights of the glowing, festive explosions shine through your window, casting you in an almost apologetic glow as you hear the laughter of the common folk outside.

He chose her in the end. You’re not surprised, really. Who would even want to spend their time with the terminally ill? Who would ever want to watch the fireworks from within a glorified hospital room? The scent of iron with an undertone of flowery fragrances, paired with quite frankly, a shitty view?

“Ajax— Would you have time to watch the fireworks with me this year…? Since you have—“

You take in a breath, your hands trembling as they dig into the skin of your thighs, your blanket obscuring them where you laid. “Plans with Miss Lumine.”

Lumine, Lumine, Lumine. The traveller who had stolen his attention away with barely a twitch of her pinky finger, the one who had a natural disposition for battle, a prowess for duels. She who was charming, skilled and everything you weren’t.

It hurts all the more at the thought of what a wonderful person she is. Everything that you could never even hope to be.

You can’t even resent her, for her kindness and willingness to help those who needed it preceded every silver of hatred you built. She was simply… Her. And you could never find it in yourself to hate someone who had as much goodwill as she did.

A contemplative hand is placed under his chin, before that stupidly pretty smile on his face breaks out. “Of course! I’d be stupid to not come spend time with you.” A wink is sent your way as he holds your hand, winding your pinkies together.

You want to cry.

“Love can be so fickle, Ajax.” You’re staring straight into his eyes as that promise manifests from the entanglement of your fingers. Are you… Tearing up?

“For if you get caught in it’s arms,” You’re still smiling as he throws you a look of utter confusion, patting your head as he showers you with attention, unwinding your fingers to bring out a handkerchief to wipe at your tears for you. The bouquet of glaze lilies by your bedside shimmering in the afternoon sunshine.

“You’ll be happy even if you di—“

“There you go being cryptic again,” He’s sighing, absolutely confused as he lightly dabs at your eyes. “You’re going to make me sad, you know?” All this talk about death… He wants to keep you smiling, even if it’s just for a little while.

It doesn’t matter that he broke that silly promise. He’s happy, so you are too. That’s all you could ever hope for.

——

“I’m surprised you picked me.”

“Of course, comrade!” He’s smiling, twirling a lone Glaze Lily in his hand as he regards the traveller, leaned back and elbows rested upon the railing as he looked up at the brilliant sky.

“I’m not one to turn down a good time. Plus,” The flower is held between his fingers as he straightens his back. “I’m here to collect my insider information from my favourite errand girl.” A handsome grin growing on his cheeks as he sees the golden-haired girl stand beside him.

“I want information, comrade.” The chopsticks in his hand are fumbled with, the mechanics of it lost. “On someone precious to me.”

“Hanahaki.” Lumine’s voice is dead serious as her eyes get lost at the sight of the lanterns above. “A terminal illness that stems from love, causing flowers to take root in their lungs.” An ironic disease, taking ‘blooming feelings’ far too literal, utilizing such a pure emotion against the victim. It makes him sick to his stomach.

Good. As expected of the famous, reliable little traveller. More competent than any goon he’s ever had.

He’s growing anxious with her words, though. “And the cure?”

“Surgery. It’s possible for a procedure to be done to remove the roots on the lungs. There’s a surgeon in Inazuma that—“

Then it’s done. That’s all? Then you’ll be cured and won’t be bedridden? He’ll arrange for it at the earlie—

“But,” Lumine’s voice is slightly shaky, her grip on the rails tightening as the feel of the metal digs into her palms. “The feelings of the victim will disappear.” Her golden eyes meet a palpitating, uneasy blue. “Sources cited that… The surgery will remove any and all emotion from them.” He knows what she’s implying.

You’ll never fall in love again.

“I don’t ever want to let them go, Ajax.” Your hand is over your heart as your shy gaze meets his. “It’s so precious to me.” The smile on your face begets the stuttering in his chest, the sweat on his palms.

Beautiful.

No. He— Can’t. The thought of you never able to think of another person romantically… Is sickeningly appealing. No. He can’t do that to you. Not if you’ll be unhappy because of it.

He gulps, as if swallowing the lump stuck in his throat. “Is there no other solution?”

“Reciprocation of their feelings.” Lumine’s straightforward, quick to the point. “True reciprocation.” Requited love.

He grits his teeth. So he has to track down whomever you admire… And make them love you? That’s… Honestly not that hard of a request. You’re… Lovely. The loveliest person he has ever had the honour of knowing.

It’s hard to not fall in love with you. And he…Doesn’t like the feeling, the idea of you being in love with someone else. He never did. And he doesn’t think he ever will if it’s not—

(What is he going on about? This isn’t the time for this!)

“Fine.” It’s spat out in disgust. “Do you have any leads on the bastard?” It’s a last resort, a manifestation of the fact that he would do anything for you.

(Even if he feels the ripping, clawing pain at his heart.)

Lumine looks… Absolutely unimpressed. Hand massaging her temple as she fought the urge to wring the Harbinger’s neck.

——

It’s a rush he never thought he had to face, didn’t want to face. How is he so dense? So stupid?

“So? Who is this crush of yours?” The smile is unsteady, almost forced on his face as he watches your expression switch to one of embarrassed shame, almost choking on the scallion pancake in your mouth as he pulled the fork away from your lips.

“He— He’s…” He’s right before you. Closed eye smile, teasing grin and absolutely, infuriatingly cute.

“You can’t just ask that all of a sudden!” Your hand lifts up in defensive, pure embarrassment, not taking into regard how much the adrenaline of love can give you so much strength.

It ends with you coddling a weeping Ajax’s head in your lap, stroking his hair as he continued to fake the apparent agony you caused him, letting him snuggle himself into your arms and overtake his ‘competition’ vying for you.

Good. It’s good that he was the one filling your mind. He doesn’t like it when that secret admirer of yours is the one that takes over your thoughts. He doesn’t want to admit how warm you make him feel on the inside despite how cold your body is.

He doesn’t want you to want that stupid loser of a person who made you so fluttery, making you akin to a blushing schoolgirl whenever he brings that crush of yours up.

Was it stupid of him to not have noticed that he was in love with you all this time? How long had he been tying himself back? How much longer does he have to give to you?

How long did he make you suffer?

Time has been cruel to him, to you.

——

You’re smiling. Why are you still smiling? Aren’t you in pain? Aren’t you scared that you’re going to die? Why are you spending your last moments like this?

He hears it, barely even breathed out from your choked throat.

“Ajax…” You coughing fits are acting up again.

“If- If in another lifetime…” It’s getting worse, your breaths are hacked, blood spilling from your lips with every syllable forced out. “If you could ever learn-“ A multitude of bloodied petals bloom within your throat, suffocating your words, a final attempt to save you the heartbreak you knew all too well. “To love me-“

He calls for the doctor, turning away to grab their attention before your fingers weakly tug at his sleeve.

Your face is aghast with the pain, your mouth stained with blood, crimson petals discharge from within you, stalks entwining and curling itself around your heart, a final comfort and a warning of your last moments.

“Would you please have me?”

Realization strikes, the feeling finally settling down in his stomach in an odd satisfaction, the dull throb of pain in his brain as his breath hitches.

Why? Why why why why why why? Why now?

He doesn’t say anything, trembling hands grasping your own in his before he leans in to capture your cold, colourless lips with his own, returning every ounce of unsaid affection, every bit of undivided attention he owed you.

Childe— No, Ajax doesn’t care that all he can taste is the vile flavour of petals mixed with blood and bile, he can only feel you through this kiss so raw and emotional, that all he can comprehend is the texture of your bitten lips, the slipping warmth of your skin, the feeling of loss that envelops his entire being.

He pulls away, hoping, praying that you understood his reply to your confession. That your eyes will flutter open, staring at him as if he picked the stars from the sky and placed them in your hand, tears that stained your cheeks flaring within your eyes from happiness, skin reinvigorated by the jubilant feeling of having this silent love of yours finally being heard by the object of its affections.

It all goes quiet save for the sounds of his despaired sobs as the wind carries your final breaths away.

Too late.

[the-universal-sun]

What causes the Stan Twins to throw tantrums most often when regressed?

Ford usually has a strong grasp on his emotions and temperament, he’s had to learn to reign himself in during his inter dimensional travels. So usually, he can allow himself to remain level headed and rational. When he’s little, however, he loses that tight grasp on his emotions, he allows himself to act more childishly, to whine and pout without fear of consequences. Which also means he doesn’t have the emotional grasp to reign in any forming temper tantrums, rare as they are.

I think that Ford would only have a temper tantrum when he’s tired, as what happens with most children. Say he misses a nap, that means he’s cranky and his fuse is shortened, but because he’s cranky, everything irritates him, Lego’s not clicking together on the first try, the shirt tag that won’t stop tickling his neck, even the stray crayon mark on the outside of the pictures lines. So by the time he has a full blown temper tantrum, his temper has already been tested by everything. I think it would really come to ahead when he’s in the middle of a documentary or a Lego set and Stan (or Fidds) tells him it’s bedtime, so he has to clean up. He’s tired, and irritated, but he wants to finish what he was doing, not go to bed, so he just kind of explodes. He yells and cries that he doesn’t want to go to bed, he has to finish what he was doing and that it wasn’t fair, he’s not a baby so he shouldn’t have a bedtime!

Stan would never get mad or yell at him, he missed a nap so he’s already tired and short tempered, and he’s going to be apologizing profusely the next day anyways, there’s no reason to scare him or make him feel worse. Now, what he would do is wrap his arms around Ford and shush his while slowly rocking the both of them, the feeling of Stan’s breathing against Ford’s back would help in calming him down from his yelling at least. Stan would explain that yes he understand he wants to finish his activity, but Ford already missed his nap and stayed up 2 hours passed his bedtime. If (faulty) logic doesn’t prevail with his brother, Stan doesn’t hesitate to bring up the fact that he himself is tired (true) but he can’t sleep without his Lil’ Sixer (also true) so can he please come to bed?

One thing about Ford is that he’s insanely protective over Stan, both when he’s big and little, it just shows up in different ways. When he’s little, he wants to “protect” Stan from things that could make him sad, like changing the channel if one of those sad animal commercials comes on, or sleeping with him to keep away Stan’s bad dreams (it keeps both of their nightmares away). Most of the time, Stan just humors him because he can really tell that this stuff only affects Ford, but sleeping together really does help Stan keep his bad dreams away.

Hearing that Stan needs him is the quickest way to calm Ford down, he likes being someone Stan can turn to for anything, and he’ll do anything for Stan, even eat those nasty vegetables (Ford’s favorite food is jelly beans, I know he does not eat his vegetables as often as he should). How could he forget that he chases away Stan’s nightmares, he’s Stan’s protector, and here he is, throwing a tantrum because he wanted to stay up later! His tears would calm down and he’d mumbled a very pitiful “sorry” that has Stan squeezing him tighter and telling Ford that no apologies are needed. Stan’s not mad at him, he never will be, and that he’s not in trouble. He then would direct Ford to sit on a chair and quickly cleans up whatever Ford was doing, putting Lego pieces away or pausing and turning off the tv from his documentary. He walks Ford through their night time routine, helping him tune his tooth brushing and holding him as he’s stepping into his pajamas. He knows that Ford’s quick to feel guilty about his outbursts, so to calm him down, after he’s tucked in with Dr. Mittens, Stan climbs into bed next to him, wraps him in his arms and reads Ford’s favorite bedtime story when little, The Hobbit, until he falls sleep, after which Stan settles down, clinging to Ford, and drifts off to the sound of his brothers breathing.

Now Stan is younger than Ford when regressed, so he’s more prone to meltdowns than tantrums, but anything to do with anything medical will throw Stan into a tantrum. Before Ford figured the solution of crushing Stan’s pills and putting them into pudding, Stan would scream and cry when he had to take them. He hates pills and anything to do with Doctors. When Ford would bring out his medicine, Stan would try to run away, keep his mouth closed, and turn his head away so he could be forced to open his mouth. If Ford successfully got the pills in his mouth, he’d have to keep his hand over his mouth so Stan wouldn’t spit the pills out. The kicking and yelling and tears was breaking Ford’s heart. He wasn’t mad at Stan by any means, he’s always had a hard time taking pills, the act itself stresses him out, and now Ford feels like he’s hurting his brother, but these are important medications that Stan needs to take daily.

When Stan finally swallows the pills, Ford brings onto his lap and buries Stan’s face in his neck, letting himself cry a few tears, his guilt for putting Stan through this getting to him, rocking them both to the motion of their boat. He get Stan a nice big cup of cooled down hot chocolate, and lets him curl up on his lap with Poindexter and Shanklin 2 as he reads Charlottes Web aloud, pausing every so often to just look at Stan, to check on him and make sure he’s feeling calm again. They both fall asleep like this, heads pressed against each other with a silent promise to do better next time.

(It’s after this when Ford comes up with the idea to mix the crushed pills in pudding, which makes the whole process easier for both of them)

(This kind of veered off into a bit of a different direction, I’m sorry)

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: ocean sunfish

Everybody knows ocean sunfish, right? Those giant, slow, silly-looking, parasite-ridden morons that eat jellyfish and can't defend themselves from predators really are the worst fish right?

(GIF: Lex Luthor screaming "WRONG!" from the movie Superman Returns)

First of all there's no such thing as a "best" or "worst" animal and judging animals by human standards of what is cool or successful is silly because our standards are not even universal among humans, let along other species. Secondly, the closest thing we have to a way to judge a species is how successful it is in its niche and sunfish are doing pretty good, thank you very much. Today I'll be talking about sunfish and how they are not bad fish at all.

(Image: a Mola mola located near the surface of the ocean, with the tip of its dorsal fin and part of its head breaching the surface. It is a round fish with no tail, only a wrinkly region of its body. Its dorsal and anal fins are long and slender The eyes and mouth are proportionately small. It is a pale white with light grey spots. A SCUBA diver is visible in the background. End ID)

Ocean sunfish, or molas, are members of the family Molidae, which is divided into five known species across three genuses. Im mostly going to be talking about members of the genus Mola, but I'll mention the other two as well. Molas are known for their size and odd appearances, looking like someone chopped a fish in half and the front half went swimming off on its own. They are members of the order Tetraodontiformes, making them cousins to pufferfish, triggerfish, boxfish, and others. While many members of that order are known to be highly poisonous, molas are not. They also lack several other common traits. Despite being bony fish, most of the mola skeleton is made of cartilage and they do not have swim bladders, forcing them to actively swim to maintain their position in the water column. Instead of a tail and caudal fin, sunfish have a structure called the clavus. The clavus is formed mostly from connective tissue and is used as a rudder. Because the clavus is mostly made of connective tissue, damage to it is not particularly harmful to the fish. There have been molas found alive and well that have had portions of their clavus eaten by predators. Because of their shortened stature, molas have the fewest vertebrae of all fish. The dorsal and anal fins are elongated and are used to provide propulsion by flapping back and fourth similarly to how birds wings move, albeit slower. Minute alterations in the angle each fin moves through the water help with steering, while more sharp turns are aided with jets of water ejected through the mouth and gills. Like their other Tetraodintid relatives, mola teeth are fused together into a beak-like structure that prevents them from closing their mouths. They also have some more regular pharyngeal teeth in the backs of their mouths. Some reports say that the fish can make noises by grinding the pharyngeal teeth together. Mola skin is thick and rough, described as being similar to sandpaper in texture. Like most fish, the skin is covered in a layer of protective mucus.

(Image: a mola sunbathing. It is positioned with one side of its body facing the surface. Its body is just under the water's surface. End ID)

The three species in the genus Mola are Mola mola, the ocean sunfish and most well-known of the molas, Mola alexandrini, the giant, southern, or bumphead mola, and Mola tecta, the hoodwinker sunfish. Mola mola has an average weight of 247 to 1000 kg (545 to 2205 lbs), mouth to clavus length of 1.8 m (5.9 ft) and dorsal to anal fin length of 2.5 m (8.2 ft), though some individuals can get much large. The largest individual on record had a length of 3.3 m (10.8 ft), height of 3.2 m (10.5 ft) and weighed 2300 kg (5100 lbs). M. alexandrini is the largest of the species. The largest known southern sunfish measured in at 2744 kg (6049 lbs) and 3.25 m (10.66 ft) from mouth to clavus, making it the largest known bony fish in the world. They can be distinguished from M. mola by the presence of bumps on the forehead and chin, a more rounded clavus, and differently-shaped scales. M. tecta is known as the hoodwinker sunfish because it was long mistaken for one of the other two species and was only identified as a separate species in 2015 after the body of one washed up in Christchurch, Aotearoa/New Zealand and was examined by scientists. Because it has only recently been discovered, little is known about this species. They appear to have the same range of sizes and weights of the other two species and can be distinguished by a slimmer body shape and a smooth clavus. All three species are found in tropical and temperate waters worldwide, though M. alexandrini and M. tecta are more commonly found in the southern hemisphere.

(Image: a Mola alexandrini underwater. It is distinguishable from Mola mola by the two bumps above and below its facial region, making it look lumpy. It is surrounded by striped cleaner fish. A SCUBA diver is in the background. End ID)

(Image: a Mola tecta seen from the side. It is smoother than the other two species. More of its body is grey with white spots. End ID)

Molas are open-ocean dwellers that live life in the slow lane. For a long time, it was believed they were moved around by ocean currents they could not swim against, making them plankton. We now know they not only can swim against the current, they are capable of bursts of speed fast enough to breach the water's surface and briefly go airborne. Sunfish are named for their habit of basking at the surface of the water. It was formerly believed they spent most of their time at the surface, but thanks to tagging, we know they make frequent dives into the deep ocean. They likely bask at the surface to warm up between dives. You may not expect something as slow as a sunfish to be a predator, but they are. Much of their diet consists of gelatinous animals including jellyfish, siphonophores, ctenophores, and salps, though they will also eat small fish, fish larvae, squids, crustaceans, and even seagrass. Because they can't chew, sunfish move prey into and out of their mouth by rapidly switching between sucking water in and spitting it out in order to shred the prey into pieces small enough to swallow. Special mucus lining the digestive system may protect the molas from the stinging tentacles of their prey. Molas and other jellyfish-eaters like the leatherback sea turtle play an important role in the ecosystem by keeping jellyfish populations down. Jellyfish are not particularly nutritious, so the sunfish need to eat a lot of them to survive, something they seem to be pretty good at. Being slow and having a very low-energy lifestyle helps the fish survive on a less-nutritious diet, making them very energy efficient. One thing molas get a lot of flack for online is having lots of parasites (with up to 40 known species). This doesn't really make sense. Every species has parasites. An animal in the wild that doesn't have parasites is vanishingly rare. Having parasites doesn't make an animal suck, it makes them ordinary. Because of their parasite load, molas are frequent visitors to cleaner fish, who will eat their parasites. Molas will also let seabirds land on them and eat their parasites while they rest on the surface. The molas attract birds by splashing at the surface. Adult molas have few natural predators, but are hunted by sharks, sea lions, and orcas. Interestingly, sea lions have been known to kill molas apparently for sport, ripping off the fins and then leaving the mola to die.

(Image: a mola seen from the front. Multiple smaller fish are picking parasites off of its skin. End ID)

Molas are broadcast spawners who release their gametes into the water alongside each other. A female mola can release 300 million eggs at a time, more than any other vertebrate. Newly hatched sunfish are 2.5 millimeters long and are often cited as having the largest discrepancy in size between juvenile and adult of any vertebrate. An adult mola can be 60 millions times the weight of a larva. The larvae look very different than adult, lacking their dorsal and anal fins but having pufferfish-like spines. Juveniles school together for protection and become solitary as they age. The diet of the fish varies as they age, with younger fish feeding more on squid, worms, crustaceans, and fish but becoming more reliant on jellyfish and other gelatinous prey as they age. We don't know the growth rate of molas, but a juvenile in the Monterey Bay Aquarium grew from 26 to 339 kg (57 to 880 lbs) in 15 months, suggesting they grow rapidly. The maximum age of molas is unknown, though individuals in captivity have lives for up to 10 years.

(Image: a mola larva. It is a brown ball with large, black eyes and no visible fins. It is covered in transparent, conical spines. End ID)

The two non-Mola sunfish are Ranzania laevis, the slender sunfish and Masturus lanceolatus, the sharptail sunfish. Both are alone in the genuses, but other species are suspected. I also found references to other species in Masturus, but could find literally no information about them other than that Masturus oxyuropterus is listed in some records. The sharptail sunfish looks very similar to Mola mola and reaches similar sizes, but its clavus has an extension that looks like a short tail. They were initially believed to be deformed molas before being recognized as a separate species. Unlike molas, sharptail sunfish are rarely seen at the surface, preferring to stay in deeper water. The slender sunfish is the smallest of the family, reaching up to a meter long. While we don't know much about them, we know their diet includes a lot of fast-moving squid, indicating they can move faster than their much larger relatives.

(Image: a sharptail sunfish lying on a blue tarp. It looks similar to a Mola mola , but with black clavus and fins. At the back of the clavus is a triangular extension. End ID)

(Image: a person holding a slender sunfish. The fish is small enough to be held and has a longer and skinnier body than other sunfish. Its body is a shiny silver with blue lines. End ID)

Mola mola is classified as vulnerable by the IUCN while the other species are classed as either data deficient or least concern. Molas are vulnerable to strikes by boats and bycatch. Another danger to them is plastic bags, which can easily be ingested after being mistaken for a jellyfish. The bags can suffocate the fish or block their digestive tracts. Despite their size, molas are docile and not dangerous to humans. I found one example of a mola harming a human and it happened when the fish jumped out of the water and landed on a boat. Allegedly, some fish have learned to recognize and approach SCUBA divers. Molas are difficult to keep in captivity due to their size, the amount of space the need, and special feeding needs, so only a few aquariums have them. Molas are captured for food, with the biggest markets being in Taiwan and Japan, where they are often called mambos.

(Image: a SCUBA diver attempting to hand feed a small mola. End ID)

[groggy-acorn69]

So here's my first official post for this blog. Just some simple Bill and Ted headcanons to start the blog off right ^^

BILL & TED HEADCANONS

TED 'THEODORE' LOGAN

Audhd

Gets overwhelmed and overstimulated easily which leads him to becoming nonverbal

It pisses his dad off but Ted doesn't let it bother him too much since he knows he'll always have a safe space with Bill

Has lived his life feeling defeated that he'll never find someone to understand him until he met Bill (I headcanon they met around the start of middle school) and now it's his favorite feeling to have Bill understand him when others can't

When he does go nonverbal he never writes down what he wants to say. He always points and grunts until Bill is able to understand him or just wraps himself up in his favorite blanket of Bill's and turns the lights of to decompress until he's able to speak again

He's a heinous nail biter, and while it's not the best solution Bill had always found himself carrying things like erasers and pen caps for Ted to gnaw on instead

It's also his most most used coping mechanism to tell himself 'Bill understands me, Bill understands me' when he gets weird looks or someone fails to understands him

Seeks a lot of tactile stimulation, loving to touch rough and bumpy surfaces or Bill's curls. Also has a habit of rubbing his face over Bill's clothes like a cat when they hug

BILL S. PRESTON

adhd

When he's working on school work or really anything he needs to focus on that doesn't require two hands to do, he grabs a piece of notebook paper and a pen and draws mindless doodles and swirls with his left hand while he works with his right

Mindless scribbles turn into mandela sort of things which morphed into actual drawings

That's how he found his love for art and picks up an extracurricular art class during school

Has a temper but it takes a while for him to lose it, but the fuse shortens when he gets overstimulated

Hates when he blows up on Ted, immediately pulling him in for a hug and apologizing but the guilt still doesn't go away for a while

Keeps multiple fidgets in his pockets and back pack at all times for both himself and Ted when they get restless

Voila! First post done ^^ could've possibly shaped it up a bit more but again- I'm excited to share hehehe. If you like what you see interact and follow for more duders! :)

[fics-by-noworriesifnot]

Ch2- PART TWO /19 - “There was a fish in the Percolator.” Please note this chapter is in two parts for limits on how many images can be posted at a time. please read this chapter SECOND. ***

Hermione slid into bed next to Crookshanks after avoiding Malfoy for the rest of the day. She propped open a book and began to read.  After a short while she cast a weary eye at her cat. “Maybe he’s finally given up?” She’d barely uttered the hopeful question before loud music cut through the air. She slammed her book shut, her shortened fuse allowed her anger to spark immediately. Entirely hacked off, she pulled her dressing gown from the back of the door, and she thundered down the hallway in the direction of the music. “That’s it Malfoy!!” She yelled, her slippers slapped against the tile as she threaded her arm through the gown. “If you weren’t already dead, I swear to Godric I’d-” She pushed open the heavy oak doors to the ballroom and gasped. The room was full of ghostly spectres, drifting across the floor. Moonlight shone through the windows casting the room in a supernatural glow. Malfoy appeared beside her, his arms folded smugly across his chest. “I’ve had Chauncey organise festivities for an exclusive soirée for all the ghosts in my network.” He said, nodding to the little house elf that had appeared in tow, and was now desperately offering Hermione refreshments. “-And there’s nothing you can do about it! You’ll just have to-” But Hermione wasn’t listening to him, she was staring at one of the ghosts she’d spied across the dance floor. “Oh my.” She muttered. “Is that Ghost Shakespeare?” She asked, but she was already walking away from him, cutting a path through the excitable spirits. “Wait-” Malfoy called after her, but she ignored him. He watched on sourly as she approached Shakespeare and they talked enthusiastically. “Well… She wasn’t supposed to enjoy herself.” He scoffed at the house elf who watched him attentively. “Go Away.” He muttered, feeling suddenly foolish. The elf disappeared with a pop and his eyes drifted back to Granger. Slowly a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he raised a hand to hide his amusement at being outmatched, less she realise herself that she’d bested him. ***

[bijoumikhawal]

Planning a Mallory Grace cosplay: The Ironwood Tree Dress, but more medivaler

This came about for two reasons: one, recently I've been making fabric flower corsages, mostly to wear on my head, and two, I was reminded of the imagery of green clad young women from medieval times.

If you know Mallory, you probably know this image. We have a few more useful images as well, but we won't be sticking to them; they'll just be inspiration.

From there four images we get the details that

the dress is mostly white with deep green accents

it has the princess cuffs over the back of the hands on the under sleeves

the over sleeves are angel sleeves

Mallory's hair is in a little ribbon cage with two silver flower pins

there may be a subtle flower brocade on the skirt

The skirt has two tiers of bottom ruffles and a border above them with three stripes

There appears to be a white underdress peaking out of the sleeves and skirt

I loved this dress design as a kid, but I think the bodice is actually rather unflattering. It reminds me of some armor breast plates, which is cool, but doing what's basically a paned sleeve as a bodice... makes me think of a pumpkin. This artistic difference led to me sketching a new design

This design is a houppelande underneath a boat necked cotehardie/kirtle with a shortened hem. I did another pass on the cotehardie design (see the left). I'm going to do the embroidery with silver clon cord and beetlewings I already have from another project. The neck is going to be cut even lower, and I'll make a lattice pattern out of ribbons or fabric strips over a sheer fabric to stabilize it. The embroidery isn't period, but it covering the bodice is inspired by some miniatures depicting that composition.

I also needed to scrap the ruffle on the houppelande- the fabric I wanted to use is an old dark green Ralph Lauren flat sheet with a rose jacquard pattern, and I don't have enough of it for a houppelande already. My solution to this is that I'll be color blocking the houppelande, and making up the difference with a complementary green fabric. The houppelande will be working with the circle theory.

I planned to use silver curtains I already had for the overdress, but it has this evil rubber backing fused on so it won't behave for this. I'll be in the hunt for an appropriate silvery fabric.

The original dress has no clear and specific historical source imo, other than it does resemble a boat necked cotehardie a bit. The hair, however, is clearly a coazzone. The most well known depictions of this are from 1490s Italy. However, in Spain it was worn at least between the 1360s and the 1530s. There are multiple theories about what exactly these were, including a veil that's been wrapped around a braid or ponytail with ribbons. I'd probably make a "fixed" version, so I wouldn't have to re-wrap the ribbons every time.

However, the cotehardies and houppelandes i was looking at were moreso mid to late 1300s. While the coazzone does fit that time in Spain, it has a late "feel". So I kind of want to make a bycocket in addition to a coazzone and flower corsages, to give me options for headgear. The bycocket is also called the "Robin Hood" hat, and it was worn by people hunting, traveling, hawking, etc. It seems to me like it functioned to protect the eyes and direct rain away from the face. I think it fits because the dwarves had a sword in with Mallory, which to me indicates some respect for her running about as a fencer. Additionally, one analysis of women depicted as wearing this hat by R. L. Pisetzky (Storia del Costume in Italia, vol. II, 1964-69) referred to it as a "rude oddity", "masculine/ambiguous", and that women wearing it had a "diabolic essence". The place I found it said this was too harsh, but I find it funny and it reminds me of the reaction the Pooka had to Mallory.

I may make a foam sword for photos/if I ever wear this to a con, but it's not pressing to me right now (this project will probably take awhile). I do want to make this as wearable as possible so various elements can be worn on their own or in combination with other things, which is why I didn't plan to make a single dress that just looks like two layered on top of each other, and why the over dress with be silver and not white (also I hate sewing white fabrics).