#smoot

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

You guys don't even know how excited I am to eventually post the smut scenes that have been sitting in my drafts for YEARS.

[tomoleary]

Dave Cockrum "Smoot The Thing That Just Sits There..." (1977) gag covers with original colors by colorist Andy Yanchus

Source

[extraordinary-heroes]

Joe the Barbarian Vol 1 #3 (Cover art by Sean Gordon Murphy)

[mit]

Happy Nobel Smoot Day!

Image: Christine Danlioff/MIT

Moungi Bawendi, the Lester Wolfe Professor of Chemistry, got a call from Stockholm early this morning which is about 3,538,606.2 smoots from Cambridge. Happy Nobel Smoot Day!

What is a smoot?

One smoot is equal to Oliver Smoot's height, 5 feet 7 inches (1.70 m). 

[pyromander]

Daily Doodle 2: January 3

This is Smoot. He's uh....Special. Yeah.

[tiny-stale-cupcake]

more smoot (smůt)? i didn’t write more smoot

…

i wrote more smoot :>

professor gale has been heavy on my brain lately so i wrote about him. no, it’s not a teacher-student thing lmao. the reader/tav is a librarian who started her new job at university of waterdeep! (UW) (go fish) (idk what their mascot would be) it’s a modern AU and i feel like it would take place in the late 90s/early 00s (v cool v buffy v slay)

btw, pov is second person with a cis fem tav so if that’s not something you’re into you’re valid to skip this one

i once again had no beta readers for this one so i apologize for the trash heha

🔞 anywho, here’s a link to the fic on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57518290

thanks for reading!!

[zanephillips]

CORY SMOOT Chasing Life 2.05 "The Domino Effect"

[vampirecorleone]

"Oh, you're going to enjoy living with us so much. Yes, I know you are! As a welcome home present, I bought you such wonderful new clothes. I just hope that Richard doesn't get jealous that I didn't get him anything. Oh, but then, he is such a dear. I'm sure that he won't mind. You see, I've always wanted a little girl. But, of course, when my husband left... Oh, well, that's all water under the bridge, as I always say. Water under the bridge! But it certainly will be a nice little surprise when Richard comes home to find a little girl in the house. Yes, I've always dreamed of a little girl just like you." Sleepaway Camp (1983) dir. Robert Hiltzik

[89cats]

having pets is like … you’re not acting like yourself so I’ll be here obsessing over it until your vet appointment. and no, you may not leave my sight(at least for a little) 🥲

[jayparked]

HERE YOU GOOOO SILLYYYY 💗💗

CHERISHH THESEE ‼️‼️💗

i wanna eat him so bad

[omnibread1]

[oddverse]

I think Pesci and Risotto go to the same gym but they never see each other because Risotto only works out in the morning and Pesci at night

Pesci's lucky he was just leaving cause risotto was NOT about to change

[elklounge]

Fatal Kiss (2002). I have been waiting for awhile to post this! Awhile back I bought the VHS for the short film Fatal Kiss directed and written by Jeff Rector. The film features Ted Raimi. This was considered lost media for quite awhile. I’m so happy to get to share it all with you.

I currently have it in digital format and am gonna be uploading it to a drive link as well as potentially YouTube. Other places I may upload this will be the internet archive to preserve media. I should be posting it by tomorrow if not tonight:) Thank you all for having patience. Ted Raimi nation I see today as an absolute win for his lost media!

Sorry Teddy that both Fatal Kiss and Fountains Clowns have been found (Although I think he was so good in Fountains Clowns. Still thinking about his chest tattoo they gave him.)

[pyromander]

Daily Doodle 2: September 3

[crustyfloor]

oh wait theyve actually been watchi

[helianskies]

4 for engport please!

chapter 69 is upon us! there is the tiniest hint of suggestive-ness in this bc it's port, so have a cookie anon and settle in! 🍪

Ignite

João is cold. He wakes up feeling like his toes have been bitten off, like the duvet is in fact made of snow, like the window has been left open all night. 

None of the above is true, of course. But it might as well be!

João is cold. He wakes up to the bitter chill of an English winter and, to his absolute dismay, his husband is not there in bed with him to greet him with the usual warmth he holds. 

It’s a mystery how he does it, to be honest. Arthur will be cold during the day, and usually has to fight João in order to get to hold his hand (because João naturally doesn’t like the cold!). But in the mornings, when they wake together, he is fire. He is so warm that João never wants to let him go, and Arthur actually has to fend him off so he can get out of bed and make breakfast and go to work and so on. 

That is why, when João finds himself alone that morning, it feels like betrayal. It is betrayal. And what is perhaps even worse is that he knows—he knows precisely where Arthur is, and precisely what Arthur is doing. And that only makes him all the more conflicted about his current predicament.

It takes him about ten minutes to work up the courage to get out of bed. He hurries to find his bed socks (they have a bunny design on them, courtesy of Arthur’s taste). He wraps himself up tightly in his bathrobe—it makes a small difference—and he reluctantly trudges down the stairs.

As expected, Arthur is in the living room. He is knitting away in his own merry world in his armchair, glasses hanging off the end of his nose, brow slightly creased as he focuses on the intricate work he is trying to complete. 

What he is knitting is a jumper. For João, actually. Apparently he was tired of João pinching them from his wardrobe, so he has insisted on making his husband a thick and cosy jumper of his own to keep him warm. It is a very sweet, very Arthur gesture. 

Right now, though, he needs warming up a bit faster than Arthur’s hands can work. Or, faster than they work with knitting needles, that is.

Arthur—rightly so—greets João with a smile and a soft, “Morning, sweetheart,” which might as well have been a trickle of warmed honey down his throat. But he needs more. It simply isn’t enough on its own, as loved as it makes him feel.

He greets him back of course, and approaches his husband in search of what he lacks. Only, as João stands in front of Arthur, lips slightly pursed and hands tucked up the fuzzy sleeves of his bathrobe, his husband’s eyes are once more glued to his knitting. The conflicted feeling returns.

“Arthur…?”

“Mmh? Everything okay?” the other asks as his needles flick and dip and turn. 

João takes a slow breath. “‘M cold,” he says. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, the heating should be on,” Arthur tuts. He seems disappointed in himself, but still, his eyes are on the damn— “Do you want me to put the fire on? Would that help?”

He hasn’t the words. His mouth refuses to move, his tongue refuses to speak. Instead, impulse takes over. 

With a move that startles Arthur, João plucks away the knitting from the other’s grasp. He holds it tight. His face remains neutral when met by the other’s confusion. He then (because he is not a monster!) sets down Arthur’s hard work on the sofa, making sure the needles don’t slip, and proceeds to ignore his husband when he asks what he’s doing. Because words, frankly, aren’t needed. 

Taking a slow breath, João clambers up onto Arthur’s lap, straddling him and relishing silently at how the other’s face seemed to turn a bit more pink. But to finish him off, João pries the glasses from his face, puts them onto the side table, and says, “Maybe you could warm me up…?”

Arthur swallows. His hands fall onto João’s waist, and he looks up at his husband with a sort of incredulity, as if looking at a dream, an angel, an unspeakable treasure. 

(Well, João is, isn’t he?)

“Y-You want me to warm you?” Arthur repeats, cogs still turning away in his brain.

“Yes,” João replies. He brushes fingers through Arthur’s short bangs, and gives a gentle sigh. “Unless you… don’t think you can…”

“Oh, I— I can,” the blond affirms, however, much to João’s delight. “I can do that. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

João can’t help but smile at him with thanks and appreciation. “When you’re ready then, Kirkland.”

“He— Here?”

“Where else?”

“Bed?” Arthur suggests. 

“But I’m comfy!”

“But—”

“Arthurrr…”

“Joãooo…”

“Please?” the brunet pouts and prods and pleads. “Pretty please?”

He doesn’t necessarily intend for them to do anything too intense, bear in mind. A really good, long cuddle would honestly suffice. But there is something about teasing Arthur like this that certainly helps João warm in the meantime (in more ways than one) and it is hard to resist. He’s just so adorable when his cheeks start to change colour and he goes a bit awkward and then suddenly becomes overthrown by bravado and confidence in a bid to impress!

The truth is, though, Arthur will always impress Joao regardless. He’s the sweetest man alive. I mean, he’s knitting him a jumper, for crying out loud! A handmade jumper! It will be like wearing a hug and he can’t fucking wait, but— but for now, João needs his husband in his entirety. He needs his warmth, his love, his time, more than the knitting does.

So when Arthur gives in to his request, a relieved João thanks him and gives him a kiss. A full, hearty, grateful kiss. Arthur is the Sun to his Moon—the wind in his sails—his alma gêmea. He loves him. He loves him so much, it burns inside of him. And so he realises… that warmth he seeks is something he already has buried deep. João just needs Arthur to help him find it. He counts himself lucky he has Arthur to help him feel it.

[ ficlet collection on ao3! ] [ prompt list here! ]