#sorry if theres typos

[nourrris]

I'm happy there was no season 4.

This could either be a popular, or very unpopular opinion, I'm unsure as frankly I've only began watching two days ago, and finished the show already, (god it was beautiful).

Anyways, I very firmly believe anything after a season 3 would have likely ruined the storyline, it ended on such a beautiful note, something that's so perfectly them. I'm also in a way, happy they never actually did kiss, although realistically I had been rooting for it to happen, the fact it didn't doesn't bother me one bit, it really brings out all the intimacy in their prior actions, and words, I love that their love was batshit insane, that it didn't need a kiss or pda to believe it was reciprocated, frankly surrendering eachothers lives together was more than enough for a confirmation.

But continuing on, I believe a season 4 would have been too messy, they left s3 on a very difficult position to recover off, and a position that didn't need recovering either, it didn't need fixing or changing - not one bit. It was so perfect in my opinion, their last things they did was kill a man together to save one another, then kill themseleves together, literally how much more fitting could it have been for these murder husbands? It just worked so well, that nothing can be more intimate than death for them, in my opinion.

Latching onto the last part of the first section of the post, I really liked how they portrayed the reciprocity of Will's feelings towards Hannibal. When Bedelia ask's Will if he 'aches' for Hannibal too, and it cuts off to another scene, I generally already took that as a yes, as it was a big damn claim, I don't think it's something you easily hesitate on, not when the person in question is a cannibalistic murderer. When he chooses to save Hannibal, and jump off the cliff with him though, that is the real confirmation of course, choosing to leave his wife and son, all friends and absolutely every inch of the life he made - for Hannibal, a man he physically could not get over no matter how hard he tried.

It's perfect, sorry I just finished the show today (like a few hours ago) and I love it so dearly, I've never watched something where the ending felt so genuinely satisfying, even if it seemingly hadn't meant to felt like a finale in that manner, it worked amazingly, I'm very glad it wasn't a s2 situation with such an insane cliff hanger, or else I would have probably just.. never watched the show. Some say it does feel like a cliff hanger, but eventually you can come to terms and realize that their actions, a double suicide in the name of love(?) couldn't possibly surpass anything else they've done at that point, their action's have led them to either horribly idiotic situations, or blissful moments.

Lastly I wanted to mention my original assumption of the ending, I midway through season 2 found out Hannibal was actually a incomplete cancelled show, also prior to that I found through spoilers that will eventually has a wife. Those facts are important because I very weirdly am a person who cannot consume a media without spoilers, (my anxiety is due to that). So I just about know every ending of a show before I'm even halfway into it, although I tend to prefer to wait later, I wondered if finishing the show was worth it so i searched it up, and watched briefly the ending, It was very relieving as if it actually did truly end in a heterosexual way it would have immediately made me quit the show, as yes they are intimite but I still did want any type of closure, without it I would have felt at most pretty indifferent with the ending.

Anyways, the show is beautiful, I love it so so much, even if it's a complete change in genres for me, I love the characters, I love the artistry and creativity in the show, and god do I love the ending.

(edit a day later: guys i totally missed that last scene w bedelia at the end, i still prefer s3's ending but did not know it was implied they were alive!!??!)

[blamebonk]

uuu..... i tried to send an ask just now and i dont think it worked....... sorry if you get two in your inbox!!

But thank u for sharing HCs (not the original anon but just a hc enthusiast.....) i'd love to hear any more you have for Beel! Or perhaps Lord Diavolo.... he's a very fun character to me

ORRRR, perhaps, any takes on the Devildom/the realms, if youre into thinking about the worldbuilding side..... fank youuou ^_^ i give funny image in exchange

LMAO THANK U!!! I’ll take ur image and give you world building thoughts because that sparked something in my brain

Devildom headcanon talk!

Devildom is so super fun so I like to think the demons come in literally every shape and size, some don’t look human and don’t really have a human form ( more like minotaurs or some deep sea creature). Like okay Beel and Diavolo are big but there’s bigger!

There’s also demons out there that are there purely to harm and kill and there’s no school program or threats from royalty that could change them. Demons like those are like…human world cryptids, a lot of biblical sort of horror too as well.

Now that I think about it ( pretty sure this isn't canon like at all??) but the brothers def weren’t the only angels to fall and I guuuessss some of those guys could have also turned into good ol human looking demons….but I think there’s more that don’t have any ‘humanity’ in them. Not powerful enough to fully survive falling in a way... they look like, freaky as fuck HAHA

Like imagine you’re the human exchange student it’s like your 3rd night here and you look out your window and YOO!! A figure at your window, it’s got a deathly complexion but you can almost feel it’s heart beating from here and it feels like you know them and they're telling you to open the window PLEASE just open the window- they need help- the window- there’s a pounding now it’s eyes are burning into your vision-- oh omg mammons here telling you to come out and eat dinner! Stupid human!

Like I’m not good at horror or writing but you get I’m i'm 'gettin at? more brain vom under here!

So there’s creepy scary demons in devildom and also ones that are spooky but you sit next to em at lunch!! Succubus, incubus, demons of ice, demons of fire, demons with two heads, some with six arms…. Demons the size of houses and some the size of Luke.. some chick you passed in the hall looked really slimy but that could have just been a potion accident ..?? And more with specific powers and stuff!

Maybe I’m injecting a little too much silly fantasy Halloween cartoon special into this but like…is that not fun to think abt? HAHAE

I don’t think ALL these demons go to RAD so I bet Diavolo takes Mc with him on a trip outside of the city one day and is like “ we’ll have a lovely brunch outside with Hebulaie !!” Or something and Hebulaie is 20x TIMES DIAVOLOS' SIZE? LIKE NO WONDER WE’RE OUTISIDE!!

One of Beel’s fangol teammates has a cow head and another looked completely human until he turned around and had warthog tusks.

Brothers aren't exempt either! they're some of the most powerful demons out there. they can't seem human forever. Belphie gives me boogey man vibes, you see the outline of some darker figure at right outside your door in the dark ass hallway and it's like not moving at all. you can sorta make out features but its warped and too dark.... then it fuckin MOVES and u freak the hell out. Belphie snickers at you and hops in bed. ( i would maul him immediately )

When you're trying to sneak up the stairs the attic to figure out why you've been having dreams that wake you up in tears, you get a weird feeling and look down the stairs and are met with Lucifer staring right up at you and directly into your soul eheh.

One of Mammon's poker buddies has an arm made of gold, they can't move it or brake it off since it came from a curse of greed. They will tell you the whole story about how the object that cursed him RIGHTFULLY belongs to him!! you think that's why they're still cursed.

All demons have a few forms too, not just the regular human one with wings or tail! Leviathan probably has a sea serpent form bigger than Lotan...Asmo with a centipede like form,, so many hands and legs...ouhrhhggg

there’s demons but there’s also mythical fauna and flora!!! Like centaurs, fairies, jackalope…but also strange shit like a goat that can eject it’s organs out and you’re like “what’s the purpose of that” ‘n Satan tells you “ it’s carnivorous”…as if that explains anything!!?!?

The gay plant from the white day event that specifically goes after demon noses GHAHA i like to think some devildom florist is probably growing some of and advertising them as a fun prank gift...also the amount of harmful things that target or can be used to target humans that are in every day demon life... so fun!!

you know the weird scenarios that happen in adventure time? like the episode where this group of blank eyed girls scare the hell out of finn and jake and it's just really strange but ultimately harmless? stuff like that happens all the time in Devildom LMAO tons of weird unexplainable things happen and most the time it's like,,,okay going to move on with my day now i guess.

I just realized you said REALMS so i wanna add that the human realm isn't devoid of these things. as much as Dia, Barbs, and Luci may try there are alot of demonic things that live in the human realm. I believe the Sorcerers Society + witch covens are a big part of cover up and 'care'. I like to think that makes Solomon's and Mc's time up in the human realm very interesting, especially when Mc becomes his apprentice! Mc gives the brothers SO many gray hairs.

That's all i have right now, i hope that's what you were askin for? I'd love to hear yours and others HC's and input too!! i'm also a HC enthusiast

[littleplantfreak]

Well if I have said it before I just don’t say it enough so 🤷‍♀️

Like when you’re in a rush, running out the door in a frenzy because you’re late and you go to kiss his cheek and leave but he hits you with the softest call of your name that you barely hear, and he grabs your hand spinning you around towards him.

“Haji, I really have to go-,”

“Let me get one good one in.”

You can feel a headache coming on but you take a breath and just nod as he tilts your face up with both hands and lays the softest kiss ever on your lips. Drawing back slightly, eyes locked with your own, he gives a little pinch to your cheek.

“I won’t tell you to take it slow, but take it safe? For me?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “I’ll be safe. Promise.”

And you slow down just a bit when you go out the door.

———

Or when you’re so mad over something, pacing back and forth just talking it out to him and once you’re out of steam and practically in tears, he just ask if he can kiss you and make it better.

“You can try but I’m really not feeling great so it’s gonna suck,” and he can’t hold back a laugh as he curls you into him and gives you a quick peck. It’s not like you expected him to draw back so soon and you end up chasing him when he does, your face screwed up in a confused grimace before he’s shoving his face in your neck and blowing raspberries against your throat while his hands squeeze your sides just enough to make you squeak and you start laughing.

“There’s that pretty smile I love to see,” he smiles too, kissing you again, but this one scratches the itch the first didn’t.

i know we talk about the boys kissing you breathless but have we talked about how Hajime kisses you calm?

[born-in-hell]

Hi!

As some of you might know, southern Brazil, specifically the state of Rio Grande do Sul, has been struck by heavy rains and a consequential flood. The rains started on monday (29/abr) and only stopped today (5/mai), in Porto Alegre ─ the state capital, and the city i live in ─ and in the other cities nearby.

The lake that borders PoA (named Guaíba) has reached more than 5m up its normal level. This is higher than on the historic 1941 flood. The city's center ─ a big residential and commercial hub, beyond being the host of most of our public services (such as the city hall and the state government) ─ is completely taken by the water. Many other neighbourhoods were also affected.

Smaller cities that also border Guaíba were even more heavily affected, such as Eldorado do Sul, whose territory was almost 100% flooded.

The state is, for a lack of a better word, abandoned by the people that were supposed to aid.

Our governor, Eduardo Leite, is more worried about his plitical campaign ─ making dramatic videos, changing his facebook pfp to one of him with a public defense vest, making streams with no useful information ─ than with the people's lives. This year, he destinated only R$50.000 (~ USD250.000) for the Civil Defense. For the entire year. He is now, delegating the responsibility of recuperating our state to the Federal Government, stating that "the rbuilding of the RS will demand a Marshall Project".

Porto Alegre's mayor, Sebastião Mello, has vanished. He sold our city out to big enterprises ─ Melnick, Zaffari and Panvel, mainly ─, and hasn't destined any public resources to maintaining the Mauá wall (a wall built after the 1941 flood with a system made to protect the city from other floods), which caused many points to fail and the water to invade the city.

This is the danger we all face with a neoliberal system.

Neoliberalism is an individualist ideology. All these people and companies I named did close to nothing to help us. Or even made it worse. The Civil Defense, for example, published a map of all the areas that would be affected, but had to take it back, since it didn't consider the topography.

Its the people for the people.

This situation is being aided by people using their own resources. Donations of various natures and volunteer work. It is very beautiful, in a way. It shows that colaboration and union can do great things. It shows, at least to me, that the world can reach, one day, a self sustaining way of living, contrary to the ultra-individualistic capitalism some preach. Humans can, and are, good.

But it also lays out how much the people that govern us failed us.

Human lives were lost because of their negligency.

This flood isn't normal. It is a product of the huge levels of degradation multi-billionaire companies are causing the world, supported by higher class and their representatives. Eduardo Leite changed almost 500 points of our state's Environmental Code, for the worst, when he was first elected in 2019. His actions, and the actions of all other neoliberal politicians, such as our ex-president Bolsonaro, are what created this situation. They are responsible for everything that is going on here.

This flood isnt the only environmental crisis this state has faced in the last 6 months. This isn't the last one that will happen.

This text is, beyond a personal vent, a warning. We need to keep fighting against a system that is actively trying to kill us. Please, do not support ideals and people ─ especially if said people will rule you ─ that go against the environment, that preach that the capital, the money, the posesions, are more important than lives. Of the people, of the animals, of the environment. Fight for a better world, i know there can be one.

Always be aware of the climate in your areas. Things like this won't happen only here. Please be safe.

Sorry for the long post.

If you're interested in donating, @decaf-lesbian made this post with some links for international and national donations.

-> If you're from Brasil, check this link, that has a copilation of maps of risk areas, shelters, places to donate to, etc, made by a UFRGS student.

[heaveniowa]

sophomore slump or comeback of the year / so much (for) stardust

[useeer]

Dance with me?

Venture, aka Sloan Cameron x reader

You're at your friends wedding, and somehow meet the cutest damn person in the world.

Tags: fluff, strong language, slight sexual innuendo

Enjoy!!

[Note: I haven't written a fic in 192739 yrs, and my ass hasn't been to a wedding since I was 10 so forgive my ignorance abt how they go!!]

You weren't exactly a party person.

Parties are loud, crowded and really socially taxing. While yes, you'd attend parties here and there; mostly birthdays or accomplishments for friends and family. It still wasn't your favorite thing to do. You are actually pretty upfront with others about how little social interaction you can handle. That being said... fear of disappointing your friends usually got the better of you. They were fine, partying was fun. 

Honestly, you'd be lying to everyone if you said you weren't thinking about your soft, cozy bed. Or how you were daydreaming about cuddling up to your pets and watching silly videos. Not even this beautiful wedding could curb your introvert nature.

It's evening now, the golden rays barely peeking over the horizon as it descends. A sweet, cool autumn breeze blows, ruffling your clothes and hair. A welcome comfort on this warm night.

The setting is truly beautiful. Soft, golden glowing lanterns are strung along the edges of the venue. Lush green plants in decorative pots line the edges. The pillars, stone and brick, are painted in the gentle glow of the lamps and lanterns. The style...is Greek? At least you think it's Greek. If someone told you otherwise, though, you'd take their word for it. Especially since half the people here are from the Wayfinder Society, all attending as friends of the groom. The wayfinders are sprinkled around the venue, chatting about and having a grand old time.

You? No such luck, you're only attending for your friend, who happens to be the other groom. While you know a handful of people, and did polite chit chat with them, you mostly stuck to yourself. Actually, that's a lie, you mostly stuck to the snack table. You're leaning by the side of it, plate in hand, trying just about anything there. I mean, what else are you supposed to do? 

While eating a particularly good cube of cheese, you let your eyes wander the room. You see a group of people laughing, another group chattering amongst themselves, one enthusiastically waving their hands in the air, seemingly very passionate about the subject. You snort, amused. Drifting eyes finally move over to the husbands, who were talking to an older couple, a quick hug is given here and there. 

Man. You were bored.

You weren't trying to be disrespectful here, you just didn't know anyone. Subconsciously, your leg starts bouncing, your thoughts dance to your fluffy, comfy bed. Reaching down for another snack on your plate, you’re disappointed to see they're all gone. Frowning a bit, you look over the table to see if there's anything else you'd like to try.

And boy, was there. The chocolate hair, the hazel skin, your eyes instantly locked onto the person plating their own food. They're dressed in a white button down, and black slacks, the sleeves of their dress shirt hugging them favorably. They even had a cute little yellow bowtie on. You couldn't tell their pronouns, so you figure you'd ask if you ever spoke. Which you weren't, you didn't want to intrude. They looked to be the same person absolutely raving earlier, you'd hate to keep them from it.

If they wanna speak to me, they will. You thought distantly, watching their hands as they pluck up a cupcake. 

Workers' hands. You mused, they seemed rough, and strong. They must be one of those Wayfinders. Your eyes trail their fingers, the back of their hand, man...they have really nice hands. Unbeknownst to you, your staring hasn't gone unnoticed. Their hands stills, just before the confectionery hits the plate. 

"Uhm... did you want this one?" They ask someone, curious, you look up to see who they're talking to. You finally get to see their face properly, and man they're gorgeous. Too bad you didn't have time to appreciate that fact, as your eyes instantly locked with theirs. You realize a little too late that you're the one they're talking to.

"Huh." Is all you manage to get out, unsure what the fuck to say to this stranger.

"The...cupcake?" They say, motioning it towards you. "Did you want it? You're staring at it like you want it." They say, clearly confused by the way you ogled their food.

"No- no I don't want it. I'm so sorry, ignore me." You cover your face and wave a hand in their direction, this is the worst thing you've ever done. Your face and ears burn in red hot embarrassment, you're just lucky they thought all you wanted was the damn cupcake.

They seem to find it a little funny now, how you're running away from the cupcake you were practically stalking as it left the platter. "Okayyyy, well then this is mine!" They joke, putting it onto their plate before strutting away, seemingly unperturbed by your god awful screw up.

God, you needed to sit down. 

You're practically on fire, feeling like you're gonna break into a sweat. Shakily, you find a chair in a less populated area and take a seat. You bend over, putting your face in your hands and elbows on your knees, as if trying to hide yourself. While you know, reasonably, that this isn't the end of the world, you can't help but feel like it is. You got caught! Red handed! 

Yes, they thought it was the cupcake, so maybe you weren't totally fucked. But also, you're totally fucked who are you kidding?!

You didn't exactly think you'd interact with them before, but it's awful your only interaction was weird and unseemly on your end. Groaning quietly, you remove one hand from your face to fan yourself, damn you feel stupid. 

You fan open part of your outfit, hoping in vain to let more air in to cool yourself down. Freaking out like this isn't a good look. After a couple minutes, you start to feel a little better. The flush of your cheeks is fading, and you miraculously avoided breaking into an anxious sweat. 

Sighing, you puff out your lips, you just sent texts to your closest friend about how massively you fumbled the bag. They laughed at you, while you scream-spammed the chat in horror. They did end up reassuring you that you were overreacting, that it was not in fact the end of the world. You thanked them before turning off your phone. You get up, dust yourself off a little before wandering back to the food table; finding yourself in front of the disposable drink cups, grabbing one. Gazing to the left, you find the water. You watch the water slowly drizzle into your cup, before downing the glass in a couple large gulps. Still thirsty, you fill it up again before returning to your seat.

Man, what a day, go to a beautiful wedding, see your friend get married, then fumble the biggest bag ever. You mentally kick yourself, even though on the outside, you look completely normal, sipping on your cup naturally.

Bouncing your foot a bit, you lean forward to scroll on your phone, hoping to find something interesting to pass the time and distract you. You're scrolling for about 5 minutes before someone sits next to you. Out of politeness you don't look, thinking it's another guest needing a seat. 

"Soo, about that cupcake. I ate it, definitely. But I felt a little bad. Here." The person next to you says, snapping you out of your doom scrolling. 

Why. Why why why. Is all you can think. They're fucking with you, haunting you. All over a cupcake. You look over and see they've got a small plate with another damn cupcake on it.

"Oh im- I'm not hungry anymore, thanks though." You try to nicely deflect, hoping they'll catch the hint and let you die in shame, alone. 

"Hmm, okay!" They say, they turn to face forward, unwrapping it for themself. They take a bite and bounce one of their legs, and you wonder why they're torturing you. They hum to themself as they continue to eat.

God. Please just go away...

They put their plate down and dust their hands, somehow already finishing the sickeningly sweet treat. "So." They state, placing both hands on either side of their seat, leaning forward, looking towards you. "Whatcha doing over here all by yourself?" They ask curiously.

"Well uh-" You clear your throat, "My friend’s the groom, it's his wedding. But I don't really know anyone else but him." You shrug, trying to relax and ease into conversation with them.

"Yeah, know how that feels." They say, sympathetically. "Wellll." They draw out the word, as if to emphasize it. "I was thinkin’ you could come to our table! I hate seeing anyone left out." Their smile is reassuring, until they start smirking. "Even. If. They stare at other people's food." 

Ok, you can't help it. You groan at their jab, while dragging a hand down your face. "Man, you will not drop that, huh?" You say, only a little less embarrassed this time. 

"Nope!" They tease, clearly getting a kick outta this. 

"You know what, I barely know you and you're already the worst." You joke, and your brain nearly breaks in two when they giggle at it. Their shoulders shake and they grin, still looking at you. You can't help but smile, even while trying really hard not to. They were stunning, cute and worst of all, infuriating. 

"Sorry for staring earlier...I was trying to see... your cufflinks." You say, clearly lying. As if desperately attempting to get out of the cupcake joke jail.

"Hmmm." They hum, unbelieving, eyebrows raised and nodding. "Well, too bad I don't have those." They smile, raising a hand up to show off their sleeve. 

You instantly cringe, caught once again. "Oh right." You mumble out, pursing your lips. Damn, you're fighting for your fucking life over here.

Your reaction makes them laugh. An honest to god laugh, and it's loud. They're finding WAY too much amusement in proving you wrong and you don't know why. Despite the embarrassment, you were now enjoying yourself. Talking to them, joking around, even if it's at your expense. Their laugh is almost contagious, and they've got the prettiest smile you've ever seen. 

"So.. what's your name?" You ask, your left hand fiddling anxiously at your side. Their laugh simmers down, and they sigh like they just heard the funniest joke in the world.

They hold their hand out towards you, "Sloane, yours?" You grab their hand and shake it, their grip firm. Your brain almost short circuits, realizing how much larger their hand is to yours. You say your name, and they repeat it. 

 

"It's nice to meet you!" They say, shaking your hand once more before letting it go.

"Sloane is a really pretty name." You state, trying to make conversation. Totally, 100% not flirting with them, of course.

"Awe shucks, you think so? Well I like yours too." They shoot back, their cheerful glow never dropping. They look over, and you do the same. You see them eyeing the table they came from. It appears someone stole their seat. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." You immediately apologize, feeling bad that their place was taken while talking to you. They shake their head and huff a little laugh, their curly hair bouncing. 

"Why're you sorry? Don't be. Plus, it's no biggie." They say nonchalantly, genuinely unphased. They crack a smile and lean forward, as if they're sharing a secret. "Don't worry, I'll get back at them." They whisper, a mischievous gleam in their eyes.

You giggle, and pull back a little. "What're you gonna do huh?"

They pull an inquisitive face, staring up at the ceiling almost performatively. "I dunno! Maybe I'll put confetti in all of their tents!" They announce, toying with the idea. You couldn't tell if they're serious or not. 

"You probably shouldn't do that." You jokingly warn, thinking abt how much of a pain confetti would be to get out of a tent. Much less the sleeping bags. 

Sloane grins, shining that gorgeous smile again. They seem to be the happiest person in the world. "Well, that's what they get for kicking me out of my own seat!"

You shake your head and let out a small chuckle, "You really are something."

They push you by the shoulder a bit, "I'm a great something I'll have you know." They joke, before settling back in their seat. 

Silence settles over the two of you for a bit, and it nearly becomes unbearable. That is until music begins to play. The lights towards the middle of the room light up, and the rest are dimmed to create a spotlight effect. The happy couple's chosen song is playing, and you watch as they approach the center of the room, beginning to dance. You smile, and awe at the sight. Seeing your friend so happy and glowing was truly a treat.

Sloane also watches, they love parties and weddings. Seeing two people so in love is one of life's many treasures. They look over towards you and see you recording your friends dance, they allow a small smile creep onto their face. They admire your side profile and the way your hair compliments you perfectly. You are eye-catching, and the way you practically folded over a cupcake earlier was hilarious. They love funny things, so they've GOT to get to know you. Exploring is one of their favorite things after all. 

They settle back and turn their attention to the dance. Eventually the music begins to wind down, and one of the grooms leaves the dance floor. It's the parents' dance, they think. Now that it isn't your friend out there, you click off the record button and look over to Sloane.

"So, what brings you here?" You ask, making conversation with them. They turn their head to face you, their hands loosely clasped together on their lap. 

"I'm from the wayfinders society! The other groom, Rey, is my good friend." They chirp, pointing at your friends now husband. "Y’know, me and him got lost once in a cave! Scary stuff, didn't know if we'd make it out." They said dramatically, waggling their fingers in your direction. 

"You serious??" You furrow your brow, and lean forward incredulously. Their warm dark eyes look back to their friend, and they nod. "Yeah, it was a couple years ago. We lost sight of our team, and couldn't find our way out. I ended up drilling us a new exit. Real risky doing that but we didn't have a choice." Sloane recounts, "Could've been worse!" They add, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"That's crazy, I could never do anything like that." You tap your foot against the ground, even thinking about that type of stuff gets you wound up.

They turn back to you with a hum and smile, "Well, you never know until you try! Exploring is the best thing I've ever done for myself, I love it. Seeing what the world was like before us… finding the rocks and gems the earth has made. It's real worth it." Their passion is evident, every word they speak has them glowing. You admit it's rather charming, seeing them so in love with their work. 

"Man, that's so cool." You state warmly. "You got a really cool job, Sloane. You got the job little kids dream of." 

They smile genuinely, really happy with the thought. "Well my abuela always said to follow your dreams, so I did. What about you? What's your dream?" They gently nudge your shoe with theirs.

"Hmmm, well. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out." You hum, looking at the ground. Your interests aren't nearly as exciting as theirs. Working one dead end job to the next, just trying to make ends meet. "Thinking tattooing, honestly." You add, looking up at them.

Sloane gasps, eyes widening. "That's so awesome though! I love tattoos, I've got at least four or five." They pull down the collar of their button down to reveal more of the flames tattooed across their neck. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already noticed it. Wanting to see how far down it goes.

Quickly, you bat those thoughts away. Sticking to complimenting the line work and blocking of their tattoo. You ask what others they've got, and they explain all the patchwork they've got done on their arms. Some historical, some cool, some just to have a piece of the places they've been. They even mention a larger one on their thigh, a dinosaur skull with flowers. You try not to sound too interested in seeing them while asking if they have pictures. 

The conversation between you and Sloane runs smoothly, chattering about your lives and cracking jokes at one another's expense. The dancing at the party is now in full swing, guests of all types littering the dance floor. It's now completely dark outside, save for the lighting inside the venue. The lamps hanging from the ceiling are dimly glowing, the lanterns now back to their full glow. You even spot fireflies outside the venue, blinking on and off, flying into the wedding space and out. The place is truly beautiful.

The strumming of a bass fills the venue, an electronic guitar complimenting it perfectly. You recognize it instantly, as it's a song you've come to enjoy. Your new friend, Sloane, practically jumps out of their skin in excitement. They quickly whip their head to look at you while whisper shouting, "I love this song!!"

They bolt up, staring at the dance floor as both their feet hit the ground with a soft thud. They twirl their whole body around, looking at you with an outstretched hand, "Come dance with me??" They frantically blurt out.

You look dumbly at Sloane before slinking back into your chair a bit, cringing. "No no- I don't dance." While waving a hand in their direction dismissively. You're hesitant and it's obvious. The idea of getting in the middle of a bunch of people and dancing. God, not what you were made for.

You were telling the truth, you don't dance! Anyone seeing you attempt to dance may need an ambulance. Sloane slumps by your reaction, and pokes conversationally, "Aww c’monnn, pretty please? With cherries on top? One song?" They say, leaning backwards a bit on the heels of their feet while keeping their upper body forward. They begin pouting a lip out and sporting their best puppy dog eyes, hoping it'll help sway their case. 

Nervously, you rub your pointer finger across your thumb. This is not what I signed up for, you think as your lips form a line, eyes locking with Sloanes, trying to will yourself into saying no.

Damn.

You can't. You can't say no! You know you'd kick yourself later if you left without dancing with them. They're everything you like in someone, striking, funny, passionate... You internally groan, searching their dark eyes for a way out. Sadly, there isn't one. Their eyes only plead and beg.

And well... who are you to deny them?

Breathing in a deep, deep sigh, you fold, "Okayy. Okay." You say, holding both hands up, signaling defeat.

Sloane is about to shout out a glorious, loud YES before you cut them off with a finger up. "But first, a shot of liquid courage." You say, pushing yourself up from your chair, walking towards the end of the food table. There lay countless plastic shot glasses full of vodka. You pluck one from the rim of the platter.

Sloane watches as you down the drink, admiring the way your throat moves to swallow. They snort when they see you pulling a face.

"C'mon- c'mon- the song is already going." They bounce, having to fight the urge to just drag you onto the dance floor themself. Shaking your head, you wipe away the grimace on your face and discard the tiny shot glass into the nearby garbage.

They grab your hand and pull you into the crowd, though they seem somewhat aware of your aversion to it. So they lead you towards a less populated end of the floor, despite this, nearly everyone at the wedding was dancing. So you were still around a decent amount of people. They smile wide, looking off into the gaggle of party goers. You find it ironic this is the song you're dancing to, the lyrics playing loudly.

We've got nowhere to go

We've got nothing to prove

Instead of dancing alone

I should be dancing with you

The lyrics are slightly erotic, even, but you don't have much time to ponder it when they turn back to face you. They release your hand, before snapping their fingers in tune with the beat and swaying their hips. You giggle, your cheeks and stomach buzzing from the alcohol. Unfortunately for Sloane, you do not know how to dance. Not well at least, they laugh, watching you sway awkwardly. "You don't dance do you?" They ask, almost having to shout to be heard over the clamor of people and music.

"No, not really!" You reply, before admitting, "I don't wanna look dumb!" 

"Look dumb?! I'll show you dumb." They jest, backing up a bit to give themself some space. With their eyes locked onto yours, they bend their knees while bringing their right hand towards their head, palm open. They're walking towards you sideways, left hand swiping back and forth to their side and front. You about shit yourself, recoiling in shock and laughing. They continue though, bringing both hands up in fists towards their head, pumping them as they shake their hips, still approaching you. 

"What are you doing!!" You shout, cracking up at their absurdity. They finally pivot fully towards you, bending forward and moving their hands in circles. They finish off their charade with a performative strut your way, palms open in a dramatic walk. 

They laugh, grabbing one of your hands and pulling you further into the floor. "I'm dancing!! You should try it sometime!" They jive, sticking their tongue out. "I'm just saying, no one can look sillier than me!" You roll your eyes and shake your head. The smile never leaving your face.

They grab your other hand and start dancing for you, swaying you side to side. You can't help but giggle, letting them have their fun. You sway your hips and release their hands, moving yours back, snapping your fingers while doing circles and stepping side to side. Their grin widens and they yell, "Hell yeah! get it!!" Encouraging you. 

Smiling big, you continue attempting to dance with them. Sloane closes their eyes and lets themself feel the music, they move their feet expertly, and their arm movements intentionally. Seeing this makes you realize they definitely know how to dance. Your eyes explore them, their body and the way they move. It feels dirty watching them like this…But they invited you to dance, you think maybe they want you to watch them. Enjoy them, drink them up. 

It feels as though they've already wrapped you around their finger. You feel sadness bubble that the song is already ending. Luckily the next song that plays doesn't disappoint, more bass-y than the last. This one still just as popular as the day it released. 

You let yourself loosen, swaying your full body in rhythm with the bass as the song goes on. Sloane is looking at you again, and you daringly strut around them, stepping in beat with the drums. Alcohol does wonders for self esteem. They wait for you to come back around before stepping close, pulling you in by the hand. You raise an eyebrow, checking them with a grin, before gleefully walking back, shuffling your feet in tune with the music then pulling them towards you. They follow excitedly, their foot work impressive as they step towards you. They raise your held hand up as they approach and you twirl around to face them once more. Confidence runs through you at this point, letting go of the hand above you. You bring your free hand up quickly, placing it on their chest before grabbing their opposite hand. They're grinning so hard, pulling back, until your arms are taunt. Then jerking you towards them, you turn so your back hits their chest. Sloane has one hand around your front, hugging you just beneath your chest. The other holding your hip, their head resting next to yours. You both just sway now, enjoying each other's company and the music. "This okay?" They ask in your ear, the tone in their voice dropping low.

"Huh?" You say loudly, turning to face them. 

"I asked if this is okay!" They announced a little louder, and closer to your ear.

"Yeah!" You affirm happily, like this is the best day of your life. 

Do I wanna know?

If these feelings flow both ways.

Sad to see you go.

Sorta hoping that you'd stay.

Baby we both know.

That the nights were mainly made for sayin' things.

That you can't say tomorrow day.

Dancing with them like this, swaying side to side feels almost romantic. And you're having a really hard time ignoring that fact. That coupled with your already burning attraction has you dizzy. You could stay here forever. Another song passes by, and you both continue dancing with one another. At one point, you fumble through a waltz before they twirl and dip you. Despite having the time of your life, exhaustion was quickly catching up. Feeling a bit hot, and tired, holding both their hands, you turn around.

Looking up at Sloane, you truly get to admire their beauty. They've got beautiful curls, swooping and gentle. Their hair is natural, soft looking, and when you danced you could even smell their shampoo. Their eyes are a deep brown, rich like the dirt they so love digging through. You finally notice their eyebrow piercing as well, and you bite your lip. It suits them. You think. 

The longer you analyze their features, you wonder how the hell they're even real. How someone could look as perfect as them, be as charming as them. It nearly drives you mad. They smile a little, their eyes darting away. Their flushed cheeks grow a little redder at your prolonged staring. You smile a little, this is the first time you've seen them at least a little bashful. It's adorable.

The music is playing quietly now, seeing as most of the guests vacated the dance floor. Only a few stragglers are left, you included. So now you can properly talk to them.

"You know earlier... I wasn't exactly looking at the cupcakes…” You purse your lips, and squint your eyes, as if to will yourself to get the words out.

“I was staring at you." You chew your lip, looking away shyly. This confession could make or break this… whatever this is. You certainly don't wanna break it. While nervous, you had a feeling they would respond positively.

Their eyes snap back towards you, and they let themself smile, raising an eyebrow. "Ohhh, I'm that pretty, huh?" They tease.

You sigh and roll your eyes, they really are such a bastard. "Yeah yeah, whatever." You mutter, playfully pushing their shoulder. Not risking stroking their ego any further.

"No no, tell me, was it the bowtie?" They snicker, pushing their chest out a bit to really show it off. 

You shake your head, running your hands up from their own and readjusting their accessory. “Yes, it was the bowtie, all I wanted was you, bowtie.” You whisper at their chest, pulling the sides of the bow.

“Psh,” They chuckle, “Okay for real! What was it, huh?” They say, flashing their signature grin while raising their eyebrows suggestively. Perhaps telling them was a bad idea, you purse your lips again, realizing they'll bother you forever until you tell them. It seems like they're DYING to know.

You hum, dropping your head onto their chest. With one hand still on their chest, you let your other trail down their arm before grasping theirs, bringing it up towards you. Flipping it palm up, you let your free hand lightly touch their palm. "Your hands, I like them. I was looking at them." Dragging your fingers along their palm, you feel every callous and rough patch of skin. You turn them over to admire their nail polish and knuckles. You even start to massage in-between their fingers, just soaking up the fact that you can touch them like this, and they're allowing you to.

They seem to be at a loss for words, and you figure that doesn't happen too often. Smiling, you walk your fingers up their arm and to their shoulder to rest it there, bringing your other arm up to mirror it. Their hands come up to your waist and bring you close. While enjoying the embrace, you weren't expecting them to shake you and hug you in tightly. They groan into your shoulder, as if frustrated. You puff out a laugh at their weirdness. 

"Sorry- you're just so cute." They say, pulling back. "I just met you and you already got me in stitches." They admit, kicking the dirt by your feet. You figure instant attraction to a stranger is just as new to you as it is to them.

"Well..." You start, not even sure what to say. "We can… go back to my room? I'm staying at a hotel nearby. We can hang out, talk...see where it takes us?" Your voice raises at the end of your sentence, as if a little worried they'll say no. That's another lie, you were a LOT worried they'll say no, denying you any more of their time.

Your anxiety is evident as your eyes search their face for a clue, a glimmer of what they might say. Of what they could be thinking. 

Sloane looks at you with tenderness. Such sweetness you could melt. They bring a hand up to cup the side of your face, rubbing their thumb across it. "I'd like that." They say, their voice seems to tighten as if they're both excited and nervous about the proposition.

Yeah, usually parties suck. But this one? This one was amazing.

[lazarish]

Well well well...

The lovely and incomparable @samssims mentioned a villain legacy in an ask and... now we're here! With help from a huge number of fabulous people in the community who are all credited in the full rules doc, I present a fun little gameplay challenge themed around classic villains!

Feel free to make your own changes and interpretations, and use the tag #ts4villain so we can all see!

See the full rules doc HERE!

More generational snapshots below the cut! 🖤

[ratguy-nico]

BoblinWeek Day 4: Admire / Favorite

My second drawing for the @boblinweek and this is a drawing totally rob from @t4tboblin but it was just too funny I had to draw it XP

The post:

This was gonna be a totally different drawing but I said "Fuck it" "I wanna do something different"

So yeah is a much simple style I said is more meme, but I wanted to try it and I did

Hope you like it though

Here without text:

[thomaskong]

4 minutes fancon highlights‼️‼️‼️

Let me just start off saying this was genuinely SO fun. Like it was silly! It was entertaining! Sometimes it was sexy <3 Even sad! And of course always exciting. I wasn’t expecting it to be THIS fun lol

the fanservice was genuinely SO good. Like. The inside jokes within fandom type fanservice. Like ฮ็อบ y’know

When Den/Job asked the audience what Great’s name was and everyone went MUAYYYY—MULTIPLE times (me included!)

Tymegreat going on what I would call a post-waking-up-from-their-4MP-date and having a little dress up dance moment??? Tyme/Jes kissed Great/Bible’s cheek and of course everyone lost their minds. They also “won” (Great/Bible couldn’t win one of the two so he straight up unlocked the machine and pulled it out😭) the iconic cats in a recreation of their date in Great’s 4MP hehe

THE ACTORS WHO PLAYED YOUNG GREAT AND YOUNG TYME HAD A PERFORMANCE TO BUTTER BY BTS AND IT WAS GENUINELY SO FUCKING FUN AND THEY WERE LIKE BREAK DANCING ??? THEYRE SO GOOD!!! LITTLE UDON IS SOOO CUTE (honestly maybe the main highlight for me…)

Bon Jovi cover from Jes on the drums and Bas on the guitar. Genuinely so fucking cool.

Even the dance stages that weren’t related to the show were so fun. Like jjay doing mmmh by Kai…. OHHH LORDDDD. Jes and Bible are good dancers! And also they’re so hot😁 I have to emphasize this guys😁

Full cast ohm hiwwhee cover!

Tyme/Jes and Den/Job had a scene as when they were in med school and it was so sillay and a little gay of course. Very entertaining I love the dynamic these two have

BUMP APPEARING FOR ONE PERFORMANCE LMFAO. IN THE SAME LITTLE SKIT TITLE/JET AND DOME/MIO HAD A LITTLE GAY MOMENT AND THEN BUMP KISSES BOTH THEIR CHEEKS AND RUNS AWAY SKSKDJKS (it was like. Them as freshmen)

“If this love triangle was a musical…” coming on screen right before a musical between korn/bas, tonkla/fuaiz, and win/jjay made me lose my SHIT. it was LITERALLY 4 minutes: THE MUSICAL. Fuaiz was cunty as hell. Bas is honestly a great performer. And jjay got water dumped on him very dramatically/sadly as it “rained” LOL

Dome/Mio singing billkin’s lahn mah ost to Tonkla/Fuaiz. V sad </3

DENKORN PARALLEL UNIVERSE. IF GREAT INSISTED FOR KORN TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL AFTER GETTING CUT IN THE NECK. AND EVEN FUNNIER THEY PARALLELED TYMEGREAT THE WAY DEN WAS LIKE …yeah I’ll take care of this guy Bee. AND IT GOT SO GAY LOLLLL

THE LIKE LITTLE DANCE PARTY WE HAD AT THE END??? Job was DJing and the cast was jumping around with everyone, going into the audience, and just having so much fun lol (esp Jes hehe)

PONGTONG WERE HERE AND THEY PULLED EM UP ON STAGE TO DANCE WITH THEM!!! Even the young actors danced too and mio was like carrying them it was very cute hehe

Just. Apo’s presence for the auction is always <3 and btw they raised over ฿400k for HIV research!!! They also kept kissing their photos LMAO (since the couple photo was last, jesbible kissed it at the same time kdksjd)

SEASON TWO BEING ANNOUNCED!!! It seems like 8 hours is about when you dream👀 and yes there was lots of screaming (tbh, it was nonstop screaming the whole time ofc)

ALMOST FORGOT. THE WAY THE COUPLES SHIRT MERCH WORKED FOR ALL OF THEM (in terms of characterization (mostly) and ship wise—including ghost ships LOL). Those wearing white: jes, jjay, bas, and mio; those wearing black: bible, fuaiz, job, and jet

[auggiethefool]

Varian X GN!Reader (oneshot)

You wouldn’t have ever guessed that after meeting Varian the “scary wizard” for the first time, that you’d feel so charmed to be in the presence of the alchemist. 

“Aha! After a bit of experimenting, I’m pretty sure I got the alchemical compound you desire!” Varian had said, with pride in his voice. And that same cute look in his eyes when he finally gets his desired result.

With all the rumors going around, you would’ve thought he was more of a mad man with special powers and interests. Not too far from the truth, but you make sure to keep that thought to yourself.

Plus, after a while of knowing him you discovered something peculiar.

“And now, after much anticipation I present you- …uh Y/N?”

You couldn’t help but silently admire him. Watching him work was like magic.

And although he was a bit of a mess, it was still so nice to be around someone who had such passion and ambition towards a craft such as alchemy and tinkering. Especially since you had special interests that felt like a reflection of his. 

“Hello? Y/N?” The confused alchemist waved his hand in front of Y/N’s face, a touch of concern in his voice.

Oh no, not again.

It appears Y/N has been lost in thought once more, silently fawning over Varian with a tranced look in their eyes.

“Oh! So sorry, I was just… lost in thought” Y/N had said, with a slightly more awake look in their eyes. As if they were previously mesmerized. 

Varian smiles a little whilst he looks into Y/N’s eyes. And as he sets aside the alchemical compound, Varian starts searching for something. Possibly a scroll to write instructions on, simply because he was trusting you to handle the alchemical solution on your own for your specific needs.

You innocently lean in to see what he was looking for. Amidst the chaos of his labs’ untended piles of scrolls, he finds something and gets so excited he accidentally pulls his head up too fast and you two practically bonk each other. 

“Ah!” You yelped. 

“God, I’m so sorry! I-” Varian instinctively cups your face in his hands and tilts your head to inspect you. 

Your face suddenly flushes with warmth, the close proximity was a bit unexpected.

You got a better look at Varian’s face, his cute little freckles, his blue eyes… and then your eyes trail down to his lips. Y/N at that moment wanted to lean in so badly and peck his lips. The thought’s were intoxicating.

“I… didn’t realize you were so close.” Varian said, laughing nervously. Holding on to Y/N’s face for a little longer than he would’ve if he hadn’t noticed something odd.

A flushed face, half lidded eyes and a dopey smile was strewn across Y/N’s face.

His concerned expression was now replaced with a smile. 

“Y’know, It’s cute when you get like this.” He said. And to Y/N’s surprise he gave them a peck on the cheek. 

“Wh- Varian?” Y/N’s eyes fluttered. 

“What? It’s not the first time you’ve gotten ‘lost in thought’ You didn’t think I’d catch on?”

He giggled, as Y/N was dumbfounded.

[matcha-binz]

🧸 . drabble mdni.

cute boyfriend beomgyu, loves being called pretty, loves when you push his hair behind his ear and call him your pretty boy. But he loves it more when you call him your slut. The nickname has him reeling, eyes rolling back, whimpering. Subby!gyu is smth i can't get over, especially in his long hair era, he'd love to get his hair pulled while you make him eat your out, humping the bed and shit, the sensation of his hair being pulled makes him let out the sluttiest, high-pitched whimper against your pussy. And you get off on it, honestly. Call him your slut, call him your fucktoy and watch him nod his head, whimpering and moaning dumbly, getting lost in the taste of your pussy.

drabble cute boyfriend beomgyu, loves being called pretty, loves when you push his hair behind his ear and call him your pretty boy. But he loves it more when you call him your slut. The nickname has him reeling, eyes rolling back, whimpering. Subby!gyu is smth i can't get over, especially in his long hair era, he'd love to get his hair pulled while you make him eat your out, humping the bed and shit, the sensation of his hair being pulled makes him let out the sluttiest, high-pitched whimper against your pussy. And you get off on it, honestly. Call him your slut, call him your fucktoy and watch him nod his head, whimpering and moaning dumbly, getting lost in the taste of your pussy.

"m-mhm! yes, baby, m' y-your slut! ah..." "N-no! keep going, p-please~... been a good boy please p-please let me cum..!"

also we have to bring up dacryphilia. I just know what a sight it would be, riding beomgyu, his hands pressed beside his head by your hands, having him weak underneath you as he lets out high pitched and whiney moans, hips bucking up into yours that were barely hovering over his, whimpering and stuttering out "p-please don't- ah! tease..." with tears sticking to his ridiculously pretty lashes.

[soapels]

but my hair smells of war

simon “ghost” riley x female reader

tw: nsfw, mutual pining, size kink (i guess?), reader is a jittery virgin, soft! ghost, lovey! ghost, but there’s an overall dark, forlorn theme, (angst??) slight paranoia, 18+ characters

notes: my first cod fic ever :,) bear with me here while i learn to navigate the characterizations! anyways the title is really inspired by that quote by warsan shire! do tell if you enjoyed & let me know who you’d like to see next (^_^)’’ (soap + konig brainrot is REAL lately…)

all hearts and reblogs are very appreciated!

Just outside the safehouse, crickets chirp.

It’s a pleasant backdrop to the otherwise quiet area of the stables, hay so itchy it even manages to prickle at your skin through the thick fatigues, slivers of the moon filtering in through the windows.

It’s been a long day, you’d seen awful things again (and you know this is just your call of duty but bloodshed- no matter how repetitive- never gets old, never gets easy), and up until around fifteen minutes ago, you were still on the run outside, tired; veins pumped to the hilt with adrenaline, (sometimes you wonder if these levels are healthy) and admittedly quite fearful (that never gets old either).

The path you’ve chosen is frightening at the best of times.

But now you can rest. Even if just for a moment, even if sleep comes seldom or you have to beckon it until closer to sunrise- even if tomorrow, when you return to the battle and the chaos and the ever-changing future, you won’t make it out alive.

There’s some quiet chatter in the safehouse, unconsciousness to you is like nirvana and nirvana is rare, near unobtainable, but you can vaguely make out the low rumble of Ghost’s voice, and more clearly- the lighthearted quips of Soap- and it oddly puts you at ease. Nudges you along to that inviting darkness, bones so pleasantly weak and ready for that nothingness, even if the hay is uncomfortable and you’re sure at least a spiderweb or two is lurking somewhere above in the rafters (because it’s just too dim to see, and the wooden beams block most of the moonlight from here).

You’ve never trusted Graves. (What’re you thinking? Go to sleep.) …Not entirely, at least, and the Shadows are up to no good lately- you don’t know this for sure, to be honest you’ve said no peep of your niggling qualms- but you feel it from deep within that something’s… wrong.

Or maybe it’s paranoia, maybe, most-certainly, it’s just that warrior disease settling in. It’s dark out, and you’re exhausted, and your heart always feels so laden when you’re all alone and the gunfire ceases. That’s why these awful thoughts creep in on you, you convince yourself, lashes fluttering as you approach a hopefully pleasant dream. That’s why your mind sabotages you like this.

Your comrades aren’t enemies- don’t shut them out. No one fights alone. (And now, the last thought you have before drifting off completely, is oddly of Ghost, and how his voice would rasp as he said those familiar words, and the way the foreboding skull of his mask shifts when he speaks. And that damned glow of his eyes, haunting… strangely-beautiful, whenever they flicker over to you. So cold yet distant too, like an iceberg peeking above a frozen tide, silent but fatal if you’re not careful enough to steer clear of it. They don’t call him Ghost for no reason, though you think Simon Riley is a rather befitting name too- because if he had to have one, if he had to be real, then that’d be it.)

And you’re almost there, a warm fuzziness within- so vague and shapeless as you fade from reality- almost to that quiet bliss. One of the things you learned over the taxing span of your military years- sleep is by no means a small luxury.

There’s a shuffling beside you. Faint, ever so slight. Shouldn’t be enough to wake you. But it is. It’s enough to have your eyelids flying open, all exhaustion crumbling away as you—

“Shh, sergeant,” a gruff voice hushes, and recognition clicks. “It’s me,” he’s stood at the edge of the bale, which is frankly closer than you anticipated, propping his gun against a beam before sitting himself down. You swear you feel his body heat as the backside of his thick fatigues brush against your thigh, instinctively drawing your legs closer to give him more room.

Partially confused, very caught off guard, and admittedly a bit flustered, you blink away from him, his silhouette brimmed with the pale, conniving moon as you muster up a coherent response.

“Ghost,” is all you manage to breathe. But he seems to be fine with that, those dark, untelling eyes regarding you cooly as your knuckles sheepishly brush away exhaustion from your lashes.

“Sorry, did-… are we off already?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head softly, and even his gravelly voice has dipped into something gentler, not as harsh around the edges. To see Ghost like this- so unguarded (not entirely, never, but it’s still surprising)- comrade or not, is… different, to say the least. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite. Still.

“Get some rest …Didn’t mean to wake ya.” His whisper is calming; you trust him fully, wholly, you think if he asked for your life right now you’d give it to him. Easily. Without falter. Because despite it all, his rough exterior, his sometimes-lethal temper and his unforthcoming behavior towards others, you know he’d do the same.

(He’s killed for you. Save you too many times to count.)

The crickets and cicadas thrum, but despite it all- the soothing wildlife outside and the soft rustling of hay as across the stable, Soap situates himself for the night- you’re focused on the man sat beside you, not even a foot away as he regards you almost absently. (But you’ve learned that nothing about Ghost is absent.)

And you want to listen to him, belatedly settling your head down on the bale, you really do, but there’s just something off in the air as those deep-chestnut eyes sweep over you; relaxed, too relaxed, almost as if nobody was behind them (but you know that to be false, too), a peculiar, unfamiliar drawl to them as he appraises you.

You’re dusted pale, feathered with the moon like the stars stepped down to personally kiss you, and Ghost watches you for a second more, your fluttering lashes- making no move to close- your lips, the slope of your cheek and the curls of hair framing your face- and his black skull balaclava shifts.

“Sleep, sergeant.”

“I don’t think I can,” you murmur, so quiet and faint, yet your voice manages to resonate with him regardless. It earns a halfhearted snort from him.

“Haven’t even tried, have ya?”

Maybe there’s a sliver of jest there.

You take the opportunity to make a harmless tease at him, a sweet little smile carving into your cheeks, “Well, I almost succeeded until you came along.”

His silence isn’t rewarding, but you both know you’re right, and a heavy question weasels its way into your mind. And you know he can sense it, that unspoken thickness as your lids battle exhaustion, and you also understand that Ghost doesn’t appreciate dishonesty- or a lack of divulgence where it’s due.

So you ask him.

“There was… something you wanted? If you want me to do something-“ maybe you should be embarrassed, how quick you are to jump the gun if it meant helping your Lieutenant, “I-I’ll do it. I will.”

(How are you still so sweet? After all you’ve seen? Why aren’t you hardened? Why are you the bunny in all the places wherein he’s the wolf? How is it that you still manage to glow, even when you very well might be teetering on the precipice of an untimely, surely-brutal death? Simon doesn’t know. He doesn’t. He’s good at reading the room, digging into people’s minds- even the most fucked up ones, especially so- and finding out everything dark they’ve ever felt. With you it’s different. He often struggles to piece together a conclusion from just a smile you send him, wondering if there’s another layer to it. Stilling in his tracks whenever you laugh- so soft like you always do, pleasant like euphony- feeling something unbidden in his chest start to weigh.)

His chest puffs out a little at that, and he huffs low. And Ghost looks away from you, those umber eyes trailing out towards the window up above and somewhere behind you, and for a moment he just goes impossibly still, like a dog waiting for a sound, purposely searching for something there in the wilderness that doesn’t belong.

And you can’t help but feel like the two of you are somewhat out of place also, yet then again, if you were to think someone in the world had to share your loneliness with you, it’d be Ghost. Always. (Because you feel that you know him. He doesn’t have to say a word, his eyes say nothing, but simultaneously they scream everything too. All at once. All in one long wail.)

“No,” is all he says. All gruff and rasping. But soft too, somehow. A disinclined slump to his broad shoulders he only allows you and the team to be privy to (speaking of, Soap’s kneeing a few haybales together now, squishing them in so he’s got space to roll when he inevitably ends up stirring tonight)- but even then, it’s rare.

His eyes meets yours again, all shadows with a small, conniving highlight, brimmed with his balaclava.

“Scoot ova’.” he says it so simply, but your brain goes utterly blank for a fleeting moment.

His accent is quite thick- maybe you’ve lost yourself in it again, or fell too hard in the caramel pool of his eyes, or perhaps you’re just too tired to comprehend him right now- but once it clicks, you’re obedient to his wish. Right away.

The sound of clothes rustling fills the otherwise quiet atmosphere as you shimmy yourself all the way against the wall of hay to your side, letting Ghost- all big and tall- settle in beside you as you curl up to yourself. You’d burrow inside yourself if you could, face flushing warm as your Lieutenant’s body knocks and brushes against yours, and before you know it, the gentleness of shared breathing descends over you both as your noses point to the rafters. Dark, and silent. Comfortable, but at the same time not. A wordless dance of being convinced of your composure to having it singlehandedly ripped away whenever he made the faintest move beside you.

Ghost feels just slightly similar to drowning; just that cold world beneath the waves, hurtled into a murky tide, spun beneath turbulent waters. Uneasy, unsure of where the hell you are- only that you don’t know how you got in and you don’t know how to get out. Lungs aching, chest pouring…

But he feels like the merciful gasp of air when you finally resurface, too. That glimmer of hope, that split second thought of thank God I made it out alive as your chin thrashes over the ripples.

He’s the violent ocean and the life-ring thrown to you all at once. He is the silent chaos and he is the overwhelming relief- and he isn’t a kind man but the good side of him always seems to somehow win out.

“Ghost?” You breathe again. Not sure of even why, and your body quivers with sweat and nerves because Lieutenant’s so strong and he’s laying beside you (this isn’t even odd, this has happened before- sleeping with the team in cramped, awkward places that leave literally no room for complaints, but this time it felt different, like he was somehow closer).

His breaths even out in the pleasant air. And his silence could perhaps be welcoming on its own, but he deigns you with a reply anyway.

“What?” All gruff and low, thick yet- for you, now in the fall of night- gentle too. All Ghost.

(…But maybe partially Simon Riley, too, but you have trouble distinguishing two things when you’re hardly certain one even exists.)

“…” You chew on the words you want to say- or maybe you need to say them- but you don’t know what it is that sticks to your tongue like glue, and you’re rendered stupid, jaw-gaping, for a solid moment.

So you settle for simple. You settle for something good that will suffice, something pleasant and sweet but nothing that tiptoes too close to Ghost (you’re already close enough, and he did choose this bale with you, but still, you never know with him, and he’s not the sort of man you want to question).

“Goodnight.”

You’re sure he makes a soundless scoff at that. And for a splitsecond, you decide to take a peek over, because your stupid curiosity wins out and you just have to see him one last time before a permanent stillness ensues- sheepish hues darting over to his in the dimness—

“Night,” (you think you hear a scintilla of wry humor there) “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

—Only to find they’re already on you.

︻┳═一

The next time you and your Lieutenant are ‘forced’ to bunk together is closer to three weeks later, in a ratty shed by the river.

You turn away from Ghost just in time to miss him dragging out a body (finished him with a silencer, but it doesn’t matter anyway. his buddies wouldn’t have heard. his buddies are dead) as you awkwardly look around the decrepit place.

“Fix us up a place to call it a night, soldier.”

You’re quick to obey, chirping off an obedient yes sir as you take a few steps into the old storage shed.

It’s hard to see, and this time there’s not much moonlight to work with (when the door’s closed, it’ll go utterly dark), but with your scope’s flash you spot a disarray of pallets off to the corner, and you waste no time in hauling them together. You find a few cloths- puffy vests and discarded life-jackets, toss ‘em on the wood, and call it a cot.

“There we are,” you say with a smile when he inevitably walks in, door swinging shut as he does one last quick once-over before approaching.

“Good work,” (you hate the way your chest blooms at his simple praise; you’re a soldier, aren’t you? not some stupid schoolgirl) “Now let’s huddle up and kip down. Soap and the others cleared out the second field.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod curtly, fingers hesitating for a split second before you switch off the flash, the old shed blanketed in darkness as you set your rifle down and maneuver onto the makeshift bed (you weren’t complaining, though, you’ve both slept on far worse). Ghost follows in suit, his barely-clear silhouette lowering down onto the pallets with you, minding his muscle as he settles beside you.

…And for a while, it’s nice.

It doesn’t feel as awkward as it used to months- even just weeks, ago, yet still, sometimes you swear there’s an odd thickness to the air, an unprecedented drawl of tension that, like smoke, wisps by before dissipating. Like it was never there. (Yet the smell lingers, traces of something potent and simmering in your nostrils, caught in your clothes like gunpowder. Your hair smells of war and running, and Ghost smells so similar that it almost hurts, yet he’s more charred than you, you can feel it, and if you are a solider of team 141 than he is the bombs and shelter and war and relief.)

(No, perhaps he is the battlefield.)

That strange whiff of something close to vulnerability drifts in the space between you- wanting to say something, but having no words to offer, or maybe it’s a different feeling- like when you want to add something funny to the conversation, but it suddenly inches by and you’re left in your uncertainty, holding onto the joke with a tenuous grip. (Tenuous, yes, but you still want to say it, don’t you? You’re still looking for a window to speak your mind?)

And you’re sure Ghost can sense it too, because from beside you where he lies, he shifts just a bit more than usual, antsy and unable to find a comfortable position, his gear brushing against yours as you gnaw on the insides of your cheeks, feeling the same way.

“Lieutenant-“ “Sergeant-“

He turns over to you, and you see something in those dark eyes that glints as you glance over to him. His hues widen slightly, but whatever startle you thought you might’ve gleaned there flickers out and you’re once more left in the silence- this time, somewhat awkward, waiting for the other to break it.

You called him, and he called you. But now, neither of you return it.

Surprising perhaps the both of you, after what seems like forever passes and Ghost is the one to clear his throat, rasping out a quick, dismissive goodnight when your lips finally snap open to speak-

“G-Ghost—“

“Sleep, soldier. Tomorrow’ll be hell, and m’not carryin’ ya if y’legs give out.”

(He would. Of course he fucking would.)

︻┳═一

Soap and Ghost murmur for a bit with each other, tying off the threads of the last mission as you hesitantly approach. You don’t exactly remember Soap ever making it last night, but hours before sunrise you stirred in your slumber, and are now eighty-percent convinced you heard him settling in the otherwise quiet shed, exchanging a tired grunt or two with Ghost.

And it shouldn’t bother you. The men, you mean, because you’ve known them for months now, fought and bled and killed together, stuck to each other like glue as you endured all the shitty times and awful memories. But your fingers tighten around your rifle just that much more when you near, because Ghost is just so big and strong and the two mingle together for an unseemly yet fatal duo. (They’d never hurt you, never, and you know this damn well, but you’ve always had a shy nature and their respective sets of eyes never get any easier to stare at- you think sometimes you prefer the barrel of a gun over those sage, umber voids.)

Soap’s the first to spot you, those oceanic blues drifting over Ghost’s shoulder, rippling with what you suspect to be genuine mirth as you stop a foot short of the two.

“G’mornin’, sleepyhead,” he greets with a vaguely-boyish grin that sort of twinkles, eyes running over your dewy lashes, slightly-mussed hair and the crooked bend of your straps and gear bands. You smile sheepishly in lieu of a reply, giving him a tipsy little nod that his smile deepens at before your lips part open.

(And you’re afraid your voice will quiver or give out entirely when Ghost’s eyes, sunken beneath his skull mask- but just as haunting and intricate- snake over to you. But, thank God, it doesn’t.)

“Y-You got a spare ‘clava?”

Soap’s chest puffs and swells briefly when he scoffs halfheartedly, those gorgeous hues never slipping from yours for too long as he rests a hand along the butt of his pistol in his pocket, the other dipping back into the bag slung over his shoulders. (Big and broad, his build is similar to Lieutenant’s, but Ghost is taller and holds more mass. Both are purely muscle, though, all death and chaos- Soap’s just always been more friendly with his destruction, delivers it with a laugh or a pat on the back.)

“Y’embarrassed? Don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed head quite like y’rs, lass.” He says it with a playful chuckle, stepping forward (and his legs are long, he reaches you in an instant) and proffering the black mask out to you. You accept it with soft thanks, cheeks warm from embarrassment and perhaps some odd sort of pride as he ruffles your hair and smiles. Like, really smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkling just slightly as he nods, “there y’are, lass,” he says, “we’ll all meet up back at base, yeah?”

“You’re leaving already?” You chirp highly, traces of dejection caught in your voice (aw, you sad he’s leaving? makes two of you), eyes all starry and confused as he toys with the straps of his vest and quirks his head to the side some. “‘Fraid so, got some loose ends to tie- won’t be long, promise.”

You accept his words with a small, silent nod, offering him a gentle, if not somewhat sleepy smile as he reaches a fist forward, knuckles you lightly on your collar, and belatedly brushes past you. The heels of his boots clip dully against the floor when he reaches the janky door of the shed, daylight weaseling in through the splits and cracks of the wooden walls. Bathing the three of you in a golden porridge of early morning and twittering birds and that odd emptiness of your stomach that always churns at around six o’clock.

With one last pleasant glance to Soap (his cerulean gaze seems to linger and corrode into you, somehow) you allow him to trade a simple goodbye with Ghost, wasting no more time in slipping the mask over your head as Johnny did the same. (Even in your head, it feels forbidden to call him that- only Ghost is allowed to- you don’t know why, but were never brave enough to beg the question.)

And he departs. And the once-comfortable silence betrays you and Ghost yet again.

Still, he turns over to you, letting the door shut, watching as you lower yourself onto the pallets and fix your shoelaces. (But your thumbs tremble, wrists twitching, nervous, like the task is foreign, like it’s not one of the simplest things you’ve ever done in this business of war.)

And those brown, all-seeing eyes sweep over you (you can feel it), those thick boots of his brushing over the dusty floor as he makes his way over.

Your hues collide with his, something off in the air- a calling, or a warning maybe, but it’s heavy and the look he meets you with just before he approaches plants a pit in your belly- frightful and needy- feeling so small and perfectly useless as it builds and builds and-

“Sergeant.”

“Yes?” Breathless without any good reason.

You wonder if he feels it, too. That weight in his tummy that buckles his knees, makes them knock together, dizzies his head. Makes his heart skip faster. But the thought is dismissed too quickly, because you’re certain it’s fear you feel, strong and overwhelming- too great a respect to label. And Ghost isn’t afraid, clammy palms have never been a part of his brand. He doesn’t hesitate.

Yet, now, that all seems like rubbish. Every preconceived idea of him you held withering away as Ghost does just what you knew he never would. His hand, all big and capable (stained with blood, too) hesitates.

But this time- unlike all those sleepless nights where you felt skin brush against yours unbidden, his eyes burning against your quiet profile as his fingers contemplated over your face- it reaches you. Fulfills what it wanted to for a long time coming.

And now you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. “Ghost,” you whisper, so thin it might break- and your voice does shake, like a leaf in the wind. There’s something in his eyes, you notice, as they trail along you, his large palm swallowing up your cheek, gloved fingertips eroding the thin fabric over your skin in the best way possible.

Every lick of pain comes with a spark of pleasure, a needy, gentle ache masquerading as limitless fear.

(But those deep-brown eyes know no limits.)

“You afraid of me?” Ghost is a lot of things. But now you have a niggling, loud feeling that who you’re gaping back at now isn’t he or his mask, but rather what’s beneath it.

You shakily stand, maybe to grasp the illusion of having some control over yourself, or perhaps just to get closer to the door if you wanted to make some stupid excuse to leave. “Simon- I-“

He cuts you off with a low huff, but it sounds more like a groan than anything else- all displeased yet thrilled all at once. It shuts you up. It paralyzes you. (Barely keeping your gaze on his simmering one, you want to lie on your fucking back, and for the life of you, you don’t know why.)

When he says nothing, just continues regarding you with that weird fucking look (it’s not bad- it’s good, you think, but terrifying too) and lets his hand finally slip off your cheek, you try again.

“Simon,” (Simon hears you swallow, watches your throat bob, all tender where he’s cold, soft where he’s covered in jagged heaps of ice) “I- W-We should go.”

Ghost takes a pensive moment to respond.

“We don’t even got our mission yet, do we?”

Your confusion must be palpable, brows pinching together in a cute little knot that has his belly doing backflips as your eyes sparkle up at him. There’s an odd twinkle to his own, broad chest swelling out for a bit longer than a breath should as your lips part open.

“We-…” (f-fuck, just speak, soldier!) “We’re meeting everyone at base, yes?”

Earning no response from him, and the silence quickly killing you- you add:

“I- I thought we… Were meeting up, all of us.”

He grunts at that, low and quiet. And you look up at him like he owns the world, like there’s nobody else in it but him, and your eyes are starry and so unapologetically warm that it burns him from the inside out. His chest aches, he’s wanted you for too long a time to not act on it, to not do something about it, but for once in a very long time, Simon’s… afraid.

Or maybe uneasy is the better word, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s so big and you’re so small and sometimes he worries that if he were to touch you without gloves on, you’d wither completely.

He’s used to that game. His kisses are gunpowder. His love is death, he believes it because he’s seen it. Everywhere. All the time.

But he can’t help it, not now. Not when he’s got you all alone and it’s like the birds chirping outside are telling him to fucking do something already- and Simon knows if he doesn’t make a move, someone else will. They’ll swoop in and steal you away, scoop you off your feet and treat you like a princess- the only way you ever should be- and you’ll be happy and smiling and so fucking far from him.

Safe.

…But maybe he’s selfish. He knows he’s not all that good, he wasn’t made to love or be loved- he is a product of war and brokenness and an endless cycle of pain- but maybe you can be his good thing.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters beneath his breath, “take it off.”

“What-“

“Show me your face.”

(Hah. How ironic; when every soul in the military who’s ever crossed him has wanted to say the same damn thing, but always balked before they could because his eyes alone are killer enough.)

His voice is a little rougher now, your brain registers it as an order, so with a shaky, uncertain hand, you peel off your balaclava and hold it awkwardly in your lap. And your hair’s quite messy from a wakeful night, and your skin glows ever so slightly from sweat and sleep and smeared gunpowder and your pulse is so rapid you fear it may explode.

You want to hide from him.

But, catching both of you by surprise, Simon leans in, one hand raking up his mask- stealing a blurry glimpse of his mouth- and captures your lips in his. And he doesn’t let you hide.

Run, either; he slots his hulking body up against yours, kneeling down on the wooden pallets as he lowers you atop them, making it physically impossible to wrest yourself away if he really wanted you to stay.

(And he really wants you to stay. Fuck.)

You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so fucking embarrassed and your legs feel heavy and your bones’ve gone to jelly because Simon is so big and strong and perfect and his lips are on yours.

“Simon,” you were going for a half-rebuttal, a plea for a moment to grasp just what the hell was happening. But you make a pathetic sound closer to a moan instead, all frail and cute as you whine his given name, and it makes his pants feel that much tighter, exchanging a groan into your mouth as he holds you beneath him.

And his grip is sort of awkward, you think, like he’s made the split-second decision to go all in but now he’s worried he fucked things up and you’ll end up hating him. So his tongue prods against your soft lips, hesitant, and his long lashes occasionally brush against your cheekbone, but he ultimately pulls away.

Like the recoil of a gun; sharp, sudden. There’s a blip of panic there, of what the hell did I just do. But there’s no regret. Because in Simon’s head, it had to be done- else he would’ve crumbled, else your smile would steadily become torture and someone else would’ve done it.

Your eyes are still shut when silence falls over the rundown shed and you feel the tip of his nose carve almost awkwardly in the juncture of your neck. Because you’re afraid. Because your tummy is burning and so is your face, your heart, too. Because there’s still a little unreasonable part of you that, despite feeling his lips brush against your collar, is scared that when you open them, he’ll be staring back at you- mask rucked up and all- genuinely Simon- and you don’t want to see his face if he doesn’t want you to.

“I should stop,” he murmurs into your neck. “I should stay away.” And it almost feels like it’s all over now, the fucked-up calm after the storm. The residual smoke and death on the battlefield- the smell of gunfire and metal. Water under the bridge—

“But that’d be hell.”

And he pulls the trigger again. Those lips, cold as bullet shells, colliding with yours once more. Nipping, and all tongue with the occasional clash of teeth, but it feels so fucking good and you realize with a spark of dismay that you don’t want it to stop.

Never.

“Simon,” and you’re chanting it now, all teary-eyed, lashes thick with pleasure as his mouth descends upon you, his deft fingers already working at tearing off your clothes- straps unbuckling, gear clinking softly as it rolls off the pallets and onto the floor.

Fear- respect- or whatever the hell you’ve always felt for Ghost- bleeds into something closer to… love, you think, and your chest is swelling by the time his gloved fingertips reach there, gliding over your bare skin. And you glow in the golden streaks of young sun, flesh soft and too fucking inviting to pass up on.

(He doesn’t.)

Simon leans away, then, and you dare open your eyes at the lost contact, the lower half of his face bathed in a dim-yellow, his balaclava clinging midway up the bridge of his nose. And within the cage of the printed skull (iconic and terrifying, sort of like batman- an omen of evil’s bane on the way), his brown hues glint, all hazy- far from sober as they sweep over you.

Flickering; giving out; flickering. Burning, and then lessening, sparking like a broken fuse before it becomes so hot you feel you may wither beneath him-

“Gorgeous,” he breathes.

And he’s on you again, tongue laving at your neck and chest, one hand kneading a tender breast while he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks. You whimper; his cock throbs; he made the impromptu decision just as Soap left that he’d bring you to ruin, and his plans haven’t changed at all.

“I need you, Simon,” you confess, because you do. You need him, you’re sure of it. On the battlefield, on base, on any fucking mission you’re given. You need him above you and on you and inside you.

(Fuck, you want him inside, you want him everywhere. In the mushy, warm crevice between your ribcages and now, between the river of your thighs. Now now now—)

There’s a screech of a zipper. It jams, but he’s impatient and dislodges it quickly, flimsy metal snapping as he shrugs off some of the weight and tugs down his pants.

And, goodness, it’s big.

Flushed red at the tip, angry and twitching as he drags you in by your hips, appraising you with this simmering, foggy look that has your legs quietly splitting. But Simon’s big all over, and you’ve always known him to be stronger (so much stronger), so when he slots himself up with your core, murmurs out a string of reassurances and fuckin’ beautiful’s, you lie back and let him take you.

You, that pretty, sopping cunt, and your virginity.

And as he deflowers you (there’s a dull, hot pain, he’s so big and thick- it hurts- but he folds himself over you and hushes you and tells you it’s okay), you think he takes your heart, too. (If he didn’t already have it.)

When the sting subsides and he realizes you’re not sniffling into his shoulder anymore, he bumps up the speed, entering a controlled, careful pace, the wood jostling beneath you as he fucks and breaks and loves you.

“Please,” you beg, “give it to me.”

“Am, darlin’,” he rasps at your ear, an echo of a high-pitched sigh there. “Giving ya everything I’ve got… And you’ll fuckin’ take it, yeah?”

When you nod and tighten up around him, those velvet walls sucking him in like a perfect vice, and pair it with a mewling yes, Simon, something in his lower abdomen clutches. A pit forming there already, all hot and pleasant as your pussy overwhelms him, beckons him further in until he’s hitting deep deep deep and a pale-pink is oozing between your legs, traces of your blood caught on his pelvis as he gives it to you. Everything. All of it.

Every piece of him, every bad memory and gentle kiss on his forehead, every grey cloud and good grade and bout of death- he stuffs it all inside you. Buries his hate and love there, cock grazing your womb as he thinks about the one he came from, and all the shouting and cracked beer bottles and spatters of smoke and red on the field.

And you suddenly tighten up around him completely, eyes going wide as your mouth gapes with some unwarranted, foreign wave of pleasure.

“There y’are,” he grunts, half breathless and half utterly feral, brown voids enamored with the sight of you crumbling beneath him as his jaw falls open and his eyes roll back. All the way back, ‘til his lashes- pale in the morning sunshine- kiss the points of his cheekbones and he can’t hide the desperate groan he tries to stifle in the dip of your neck.

Gloved hands grasping at the soft fat of your hips, digging and unintentionally hurting, leaving purplish semi-circles behind as his hips stutter one last time.

And he paints you on the inside. Roots himself there. Cums with a murky moan of your name that claws itself into every vital part of your soul and refuses to let go. (You don’t want it to.)

And the longer you two lie there, bathing in the gold of early morning, the less inclined he feels to leave.

Your fingertips, delicate as snow, graze over his back, swollen lips tickling his jawbone and the side of his face as he pants into the arch of your neck.

And his nose nestles into your aura, the messy tresses and gentle wildlife of you, gloved hands marking up your hips. And Ghost thinks your hair smells of war, too.

[blondeaxolotl]

omg PLEASE tell me about the p4 swap au i just saw the one art but i looove it! if you have any details I'd love to hear them!!

Ouf... I haven't thought of rb!p4 for a while, at least it gave me an excuse to draw them again

I don't have alot of notes on them for now but I can state some simple facts like:

Since Greenhill and Bluewer are swapped, it means that Greenhill is now the one with many sisters instead of Bluewer

Violet is the nephew of Blavat (who's swapped with Druitt)

both Violet and Redmond wear makeup, it's just that Redmonds is more gothic than Violets

Green lion is the house that's the weakest in the cricket games (and the house that everyone wears glasses for some reason)

Violets fag was originally Cheslock but was replaced by Freckles after being called out after Elizabeth exposed him

Unfortunately that's all I can think of right but forgive my sin I give you a drawing of the four together once again as my apology 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[fictosauce]

Imagine your f/o and you cuddling after you've had a bad day.

Their arms wrapped tightly around you, you can feel the warmth of their skin pressed lightly into yours.

Their fingers curl around wherever theyre at as well, an extra way to keep you close, to keep you with them, to keep you safe.

They press soft kisses into your forehead whenever you seem as though you're starting to feel worse again.

Maybe you're watching a movie or something to help you calm down, but you notice they keep sneaking glances at you. They need to make sure you're ok.

If you end up falling asleep there, imagine them (if you're smaller than your f/o) gently picking you up and carrying you back to your room. When they lay you in the bed, they do it softly, making sure you're comfortable. They pull the blanket over you, and maybe give you another forhead kiss. Or (if you're bigger than your f/o) them quietly slipping out from beside you, grabbing a blanket to drape over you. Maybe they grab a pillow too, carefully lifting your head just enough to slip it under.

your f/o loves you so much. They want you to be happy.

PROSHITTERS DEE EN EYE!!!!!!!!!!! YOUR F/O DOESN'T WANT YOU

[sinistersinita]

STICKERS INTEREST CHECK

Finally! BPJD Human Au sticker is real. If you're interested in these silly guys, you can answer the interest check here!

The interest check will be closed around Sunday-Monday

If many are interested in human au stickers, I'll consider doing the build team next 🙏(plus Kagerou)

[onabat11e]

Hey! I know you’re not taking requests at the moment…but was just wondering if you’d ever write a fic (even if just a little blurb) about onas reaction to lucy in THAT outfit yesterday because god im obsessed!

ona would just send lucy this meme:

jokes aside, i wrote something short for this (thank you for the req)

rating: E for explicit (18+)

word count: 988 (tell me why i thought it would only be like 500)

Lucy: 1 attachment - time for the awards, miss u baby

Lucy sent a selfie of her in the mirror, showing off her outfit for The Best FIFA Football Awards. The blonde waves framed her face perfectly, showing off her small smirk and her chiselled jawline. Lucy slipped her phone away, needing to leave the dressing room to get ready to walk the green carpet. 

Ona sat up in bed after hearing her phone vibrate. She looked over to see a new message from Lucy. She felt her abdomen tighten immediately at the stunning selfie she had been sent. She typed a reply before opening the photograph to get a better look.

Ona: do you even know what you do to me Luciaaaaa 😭

Ona zoomed into the photo, wanting to take in every detail of Lucy in that outfit. The vest perfectly displayed Lucy’s muscular arms and strong shoulders. 

Her eyes wandered down Lucy’s arm, falling on the hand wrapped around her phone. Ona’s mind definitely did not start to imagine those fingers digging into her thighs as Lucy ate her out. And she definitely did not fantasise about the way those fingers would pump into her; the way her pussy would clench and cum around them, begging for more. 

She could picture the exact way Lucy’s bicep would flex as she pumped two fingers into her heat. The mental images made Ona’s stomach twist, a throbbing pleasure starting to arise between her legs. She almost felt embarrassed at how quickly she got turned on from the photo alone. She swiped off to send more messages for Lucy. 

Ona: that outfit is doing things to me

Ona: i need u so bad right now. so wet for you

Ona’s hand trailed down her torso, pulling her oversized t-shirt up over her midriff. Her hand dipped under her sweatpants, rubbing over the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply at the contact on her throbbing clit, feeling her body beg for more pressure. 

She quickly kicked off her sweatpants, letting them fall off the side of the bed. Ona raised her phone, the camera app open, angling it so her now exposed abs and underwear were in frame. She slipped her hand under her waistband before pressing the capture button. 

Ona: 1 attachment - wish u were here 

Ona dropped her phone before she dipped a finger into herself. Breathing deeply at the sensation, she gathered wetness from her entrance, rubbing it up her folds before circling the tip of her clit. She made slow movements, teasing herself the way she knew Lucy would. Her body heated up as the desire spread throughout it and her pace began to increase at her own neediness. 

Ona pushed a single digit into herself, feeling her walls flutter around it. Biting her lip, she let her mind wander again, thinking about how Lucy’s fingers would feel in her. She continued to work herself, her left hand fumbling at her phone to try and send another message to Lucy. 

Ona: need ur fingers in me so bad. mine don’t feel as good :(

She added another finger, curving it as she pushed deeper inside herself. Her head fell back on the pillow, eyes shutting as she imagined the way Lucy liked to fuck her into the mattress. Her free hand slid under her shirt, palming against her breast. She squeezed her eyes shut, visualising Lucy’s eyes darkening as she looked up at her, tongue toying at her nipple. Her fingers clasped a nipple, thinking about how Lucy would use her teeth to playfully tug on the bud. 

Ona’s hand continued to pump in herself, hips rocking to meet the thrusts. She increased her tempo, her left hand leaving her breast to play with her clit. 

The circles were roughly rubbing against her sensitive area, her body trembling at her rapidly approaching peak. With a final squeeze of her clit, Ona fell apart, a moan of Lucy’s name falling off her lips as she slowed her movements. 

Ona: just came thinking about how fine u are. i need u so bad right now baby

The fire in Ona’s stomach would not leave; she needed it to be Lucy between her thighs, not just her own hand. She fantasised about Lucy’s fingers deep in her, a warm mouth sucking her clit and cleaning up the cum leaking from her. She whined at the idea, fingers reaching down to play with her clit again. 

Ona: tell me you get to keep that outfit. i cant stop thinking about all the things i want u to do to me

She already knew her second orgasm would come soon, still feeling sensitive from the first. She bucked against her hand, the coil tightening in her core once more. Two fingers slipped lower, pressing into herself with ease.

Her movements got harder, the palm of her hand pressing into her swollen clit with every thrust. Her thighs clenched around her hand, body shaking as she came again, her clit twitching under her hand as fingers curved inside her to guide her high.

Ona: pls baby i’m so needy rn. i came again but it’s not the same. i need ur mouth on me. 

~

After the event had come to a close and all interviews had been done, Lucy was free to check her phone. She was shocked to see the number of notifications from her girlfriend. 

27 new messages. 

Lucy skimmed through the messages, feeling her face heat at the content of the messages. Her mouth went dry, looking at the numerous photos she had been sent of Ona touching herself and fucking herself. 

She quickly checked that no one could read over her shoulder before typing out her replies to Ona.

Lucy: oh my god ona?!

Lucy: fuck that’s so hot

Lucy: can’t wait to get back to barca and taste u

Lucy:*see u. sorry idk what happened there ;)