To add my voice to the humans are space orcs headcanon…
Considered a “filthy habit” by humans, it *horrifies* aliens who are all like OH MY GOD the human is EATING ITSELF ALIVE OMG OMG RUUUUUUN BEFORE IT EATS US NEXT!!!!
And when the crewmembers report this no one believes it at first but after a while the ship captain and CMO fearfully approach their human crewmember and catch her in the act.
CMO: Human Theresa… are the rations you are allocated insufficient for your needs?
Theresa: Um… no? I mean yes. I mean er… I eat enough yeah. Why?
*chews cuticles absentmindedly*
CMO: *cringes in horror*
Captain: THEN WHY ARE YOU EATING YOURSELF!??!
Theresa: *blushes and takes hands out of mouth* I know, I know, it’s a filthy habit. I can’t stop though, I never even notice I’m doing it till someone points it out.
Captain: *horrified* You… you don’t NOTICE that you are self-cannibalizing. O.O
CMO: We have to put you on suicide watch. This attempt at self-destruction must be halted. Don’t worry, Human Theresa. We will help you. Thank the stars we caught this problem before you gnawed off a limb!
Theresa: Umm… O.o *absentmindedly chewing on pinky nail*
author:sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle) pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader word count: 1179 warnings: AU, smut
“Come on,” Bucky moans. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
It’s in the script, printed there in black and white, but
it’s still a shock to you anyway. His voice is pitched low and rough. His blue
eyes are bright and sparkling as he looks down at you. His dick is rubbing
against your clit, and even through two layers of fabric, you can feel him hot
and hard and thick against you. So when he tells you to come, you do it, and
you hope that everyone else thinks your acting is just that good.
You sip your coffee and shift on the stool underneath
you. The smell of cooking bacon and
fresh brewed coffee is heavy on the air, and draws your eyes back to your
boyfriend’s back in the kitchen in front of you. You lean your elbows on the counter and study
him, still not quite believing what you’re seeing. He’s making breakfast. Bucky Barnes is making you breakfast. It’s so domestic, so unlike him, so goddamn
attractive. You can’t help but
stare. At the way he looks in just a
pair of tight boxers, his back bare. At
the way his metal arm catches the early morning light through the window over
Gryffindor is laughing at your jokes and not caring what others think. Gryffindor is falling in love with life every day when you wake up when the sun touches your face. Gryffindor is emptying a water bottle over your head on a hot day and not changing your wet clothes. Gryffindor is always telling the truth even if it hurts. Gryffindor is knowing that brave doesn’t mean not being afraid but doing something despite experiencing fear. Gryffindor is kissing strangers at a party. Gryffindor is blasting music and singing the lyrics wrong. Gryffindor is the strong wind playing with your hair as you’re leaning out of the window. Gryffindor is crying with the rain and screaming with the thunder. Gryffindor is the friend who takes you by the hand when you need them to. Gryffindor is staring at fireworks with wide-opened eyes. Gryffindor is stargazing with that one person and feeling eternity. Gryffindor is the smirk you give someone right before you punch them in the face. Gryffindor is the one person you’ll always remember for being loud and strong yet always there when you needed them. Gryffindor are the memories of your youth that never fade. Gryffindor is the song stuck in your head that you associate with something that happened to you when you heard it for the first time. Gryffindor is slipping into sweatpants and an old t-shirt and not getting out of them for the whole day. Gryffindor is the red and yellow leaves in Fall that rustle beneath your feet. Gryffindor is the river flowing so fast and reckless taking everything with it. Gryffindor is dancing around a fire and singing songs from old days. Gryffindor is staying up all night to talk. Gryffindor is belonging to no one and everyone at the same time. Gryffindor is running so fast that your legs hurt. Gryffindor doing without thinking and living with the consequences.
Slytherin [by Tory]:
Slytherin is hanging an old diploma that belonged to a
long-deceased family member you’ve never met in a place of honor in your house.
Slytherin is clutching smoke and loving the feeling of it slipping through your
fingers. Slytherin is turning off all the lights in your house and letting the
last glints of the setting sun peek in through your window. Slytherin is
smiling and laughing and never letting on that you secretly want to hit the
person you’re talking to over the head. Slytherin is weaving in and out of traffic. Slytherin is the sunlight that ripples
down onto the floor below you when you’re submerged in a pool. Slytherin is
sometimes lying to others, but never to yourself. Slytherin is playing up the
shadows and contrast when you’re editing a picture. Slytherin is dressing up on
your days off. Slytherin is expecting the very best from those around you, and
yet also turning the other cheek when the ones you love hurt you. Slytherin is missing
the school bus and, instead of calling a friend or family member for a ride,
walking home instead. Slytherin is falling in love with historical figures.
Slytherin is skimming through photo albums by the light of a fire at Christmas
time. Slytherin is wanting the freedom to change your mind whenever you want,
but not actually doing so. Slytherin is a Venetian mask. Slytherin is a velvet curtain
on a stage. Slytherin is an instrumental music track that pulls at your heartstrings.
Slytherin is a piece of refreshing mint gum.
Slytherin is the pair of eyes that says much more than a mouth ever
Hufflepuff [by Jinxy]:
Hufflepuff is sweaters with fraying sleeves and fading covers. It’s skipping stones sending up ripples as they sink in a lake. It’s the last dandelion seed clinging to the stem and a half-written letter. Hufflepuff is hair escaping a braid. It’s extra buttons collected in a jar on the bookshelf. Hufflepuff is empty birdhouses and open windows. It’s a garden of sunflowers reaching for the sun. Hufflepuff is the moment of anticipation right before something exciting happens. It’s trumpet music and untied shoelaces. Hufflepuff is old, flowery wallpaper. It’s singing along to a song, but only knowing the words to the chorus. It’s waiting, but not giving up hope. Hufflepuff is the nostalgia of entering a childhood home. It’s thunderstorms. Hufflepuff is forgetting a word mid-sentence. It’s a smile hiding tears, blurred family photographs, and the kitchen in wake of cooking. Hufflepuff is glasses clinking together in toast and friends reuniting after too long apart. It’s a long exhale and the first step into a new adventure.
Ravenclaw [by Abigail]:
Ravenclaw is the quiet patter of rain at night, leaves falling in fall, finding a geode, converse, hair falling onto the floor after being cut. Ravenclaw is purple flower petals blowing in the wind, glitter, the smell of hot chocolate in the winter, the sound of water flowing over rocks in the creek, trying new ice cream flavors, stupid puns, new sheet music, the seat heater in the car. Ravenclaw is scribbling with a brand new pen, quiet giggles at a campfire, spinning in a dress, the new book smell, space, lavender, newly painted nails, fluffing a pillow right before bed, making a fresh cup of tea, Ravenclaw is the moment you get something perfect after working hard on it, snowflakes falling on your nose, petting a dog after a long day, a half smile, water dripping on your nose after a shower, a perfectly baked treat. Ravenclaw is catching fireflies once the night has gone completely dark, the wind in your face and hair while walking, dark lipstick, a new pair of heels, curly hair. Ravenclaw is staring up at the stars on a summer night with a friend, the feeling you get after learning something new, crazy socks, perfecting the messy bun. Ravenclaw is standing on the beach as the waves come up and hit your knees, the sound of a clock ticking, the feeling of when you just jump in without thinking.