this is self indulgent okay just let me have this

anonymous asked:

Hiii love the new URL lol. Since we're on the topic of even's hands, could you write a fic about isak's feelings about his hands? Ty my love

anon, you are my favourite person in the history of forever. i loved writing this so much! and i have to give a shoutout to @isisisak for giving me the idea of Isak telling Jonas about it while high!

i hope you enjoy this! it’s super self indulgent :D


“She makes me so happy, dude. It’s like - her smile, and how… she’s so confident now! She just… knows what she wants, and it’s awesome.”

Jonas has been waxing poetic about Eva for far too long now, in Isak’s opinion. It’s probably because Jonas is high as fuck, in fact, they’re both high as fuck, but Isak is kinda finished with the subject of how Eva and Jonas got back together (okay, maybe that’s because he’s a little worried that Eva might reveal why they broke up in the first place.)

Jonas seems to notice Isak’s bored look (actually, Isak might have rolled his eyes, or yawned. He’s a little too out of it to remember)

“What? It’s not like you don’t talk about Even for fucking hours, Isak! Remember last week? When you got wasted and spent ten minutes describing his eyes?”

“He has nice eyes!” The nicest! Isak could talk about them for hours, even while sober. Jonas got off easy. Or maybe he just ran off. Isak doesn’t remember, or care.

“I swear to God,” Jonas sighs. “Next you’ll be talking about his fucking…nose, or his hands or something.”

“Fuck,” Isak says, only focussing on the words ‘his hands.’ “I fucking love his hands.”

“Okay, well I wasn’t being serious, but good for you.”

“No, seriously, Jonas. Have you seen his fucking hands? They’re fucking incredible.”

“They’re just hands, Isak.”

“How dare you.” Isak is far too high for this, and now all he can think about is Even’s hands.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How would Russ, Red, Stretch, and Classic Sans react to his crush just randomly walking up to him, pulling out a ridiculously huge bag of weed and saying "you and me. Let's get destroyed off this shit" and then when they're both high af crush just goes "you're so incredibly perfect and I really love you so much like we should get married and have a nice life and everything and stuff I think about it a lot like spending my life with you"

Okay….my apologies if I let my fantasies run wild….let me indulge in my pure self insert love for Rus. 

Also, like….I’ve never smoke or gotten high (I’m a good noodle) so this might be not accurate. 

*Implied NSFW, but nothing is explicit. I’d say PG-13

Swapfell Papyrus 

Hell to the fucking yes. Rus eagerly smokes the weed with you, but not as much as you so he could watch over you and make sure that you don’t hurt yourself or do anything stupid. You get a little handsy with him, and he hesitantly accepts it, even kissing you, sliding his hands under your shirt, touching you everywhere. Had he been sober, Rus would’ve kept his distance from you since you’re not in the right mind right now, but despite taking less than you, Rus is still pretty high. 

When you confess your feelings for him, he gets a new kind of high, proclaiming that he feels the same way, and the two of you just start laughing. How silly! You like him, he likes you, why did it take so long?! Neither of you should have to wait anymore, you two should get married! And Rus actually marries you, Vegas style. 

The next day, once the both of you sober up, Rus realizes what happened and screams. Fuck he really messed things up didn’t he? He fucking married you and yeah, okay, maybe that thought is kinda nice, but he didn’t want it to be like this! After making breakfast, the two of you sit down and have a long discussion on what to do. You suggest that after the craziness that happened yesterday, it’s better to just put this aside for now and deal with it another day. Rus happily agrees. 

But later, turns into weeks, months, years, and in between that time, you and Rus have grown closer than ever before. Neither of you officially asked each other out, but it’s pretty much agreed that you two are an item now. 

Pretty soon, the both of you forgot all about the accidental marriage until Undyne asked when you two are tying the knot during a dinner party with all your friends. 

“Oh, we’re already married,” Rus shrugs as you giggle by his side. 

The sound of everyone’s glasses dropping was priceless. 

Underfell Sans

Oh my god, he loves you so much, give him some that shit. As soon as the both of you are as high as a cloud, Red gets a little handsy with you and the two of you start making out. Not only are you his crush, but you’re also his FWB so it’s nothing new. 

But then, you confess your feelings for him, and oh god, Red.exe has crashed. He teleports out of there as soon as possible, stumbling into Grillbys since that’s the first place he thought of, and drowns himself in alcohol. It’s not that he’s unhappy, but Red was not expecting at all and he hates surprises. Plus, he’s high as fuck, so he’s not in the right mind. 

Then Red remembers he left you alone in his room….half naked….with your recent confession fresh from your lips. Fuck! He’s such an idiot! He teleports back, but finds you asleep so peacefully on his bed. The skeleton sighs, a tiny smile on the edge of his mouth as he tucks you under the blankets and slides in next to you, kissing you gently on your head. 

“i love you too, sweetheart.” 

Underswap Papyrus 

Are you sure you wanna give him that? Blue is going to be sooooo pissed. But Stretch is never one for healthy choices so together, you two go through the entire bag. As the two of you slump in the cushions of the couch, you relax in his arms and confess your feelings for him. 

“Haha same,” Stretch laughs before he realizes you really said, then jolt up, pushing you into the couch, “Wait you really mean that?! You wanna get married?!” 

Your eyes blown wide, you slowly nod your head, and the skeleton attacks you with a full on makeout session, sliding his heads underneath your clothes, “Let’s get married then!” 

But first, Stretch throws off his hoodie and you toss your pants, to celebrate your engagement. The next morning, the two of you shit faced, he realizes what happens, and you both call off the engagement, mostly because it was too ridiculous, but you two do start dating and a few years later…..the engagement is back on. 

Undertale Sans

Classic isn’t much of a drug person. Sure, he’s experiment several times, especially during the bad runs, but he’s happy right now and feeling like a massive piece of shit the next day doesn’t quite appeal to him, so he declines. He’ll happily watch you get high though, and watch over you so nothing goes wrong. Classic smiles and laughs at your hilarious antics, even recording some of them and use them as blackmail for future purposes. 

But then you wrap yourself around his body, straddling his lap with the dopest grin and his soul skips a beat as you confess your feelings. His face flushes a bright cyan blue and he picks you up and gently sets you back down on the couch. He doesn’t say anything about it the entire night and just takes care of you until you fall asleep.

Sans believes your confession, and he’s ecstatic that you feel the same way, but he rather hear you say it when you’re normal. If you don’t remember that you confessed, he’ll tell you what happened and then ask you out. 

Thinking Bout You 🌙

A/N: So I dug up this little gem of mine from the depths of my drafts and I decided to post this because I love all of you. At first, I was planning to save this for the future but I figured that all of you would need something to keep you occupied while I attempt to finish up my requests. So enjoy some ‘good good’ Lu smut (sort of) while I work on everything else ;)

Pairing(s): Luhan x Reader

Warnings: Masturbation

Genre: Light(?) smut

Requested: No

Summary: To fill up the loneliness in your heart when Luhan leaves for work, you decide to have a bit of fun by yourself.

Word Count: 1285

Soundtrack: Thinking Bout You // Ariana Grande (because I’m a hoe for her)

Originally posted by vixionz

I’m used to being alone. I’m used to rolling over in bed, opening my eyes and drinking in the morning sight of Luhan fiddling with his cufflinks and adjusting his suit jacket while gazing at his reflection in the wardrobe’s mirror. I’m used to the heartwarming smile he tosses in my direction as he smooths his perfectly-gelled ebony hair back with one hand, accompanied by the standard question of, “Do I look okay, baby girl?”

I’m used to responding with my usual and genuine, “As you do everyday”. However, let’s be honest for a moment. Luhan always looks way more than okay. In fact, the ravishing, mouth-watering sight of him in a neatly-pressed suit never fails to send little shocks of lust-filled heat right down to my core, throwing me into overdrive every single time. If he wasn’t always running late for work, I would have pounced on him and devoured every inch of his cologne-scented body without a second thought. But it’s okay. I’m used to it.

Following that, I’m also used to the little kiss Luhan blows to me as he turns and heads for the room door, murmuring, “See you tonight”. Then he’s gone, leaving me with a cold and empty bed and an aching core, as well as a hollow and needy void deep within me. I’m used to it.

However, I am never used to the desperation that overcomes me whenever I hear the door downstairs clicking shut, signalling the reality of Luhan’s departure and the dreadful fact that I won’t get the opportunity to see him for more than twelve hours. So here I am, abandoned with such raw sexual frustration that nearly drives me over the edge every single morning and clutching a pillow so tightly as though I’m physically trying to cling onto Luhan. Now that sexual frustration is something I can never get used to.

So sue me. Here I am, indulging in such sinfully delicious inappropriate fantasies about Luhan while he merrily goes on his way to work without a single clue that I’m deliriously horny and in need of his -and only his- cock in me. Well, then. It’s time to take matters into my own hands.

Laying myself back down on the pillows and allowing my body to sink into the welcoming softness of the mattress, I let my eyes drift shut on their own as my mind takes over. In all honesty, I must admit that I’m scared. Terrified out of my wits. Okay, so I may have read a countless number of steamy romance and explicit sex novels where the drop-dead gorgeous protagonist indulges herself in various self-pleasure moments but firstly, my life is not a novel and secondly, I’m not drop-dead gorgeous. I’m just me. Way too tiny, awkward me.

But all the same, my own insecurities don’t hold me back from exploring the inner depths of my own body in the heat of the moment. With newfound curiosity, I hesitantly slip off my boxers and pull my panties down to my ankles, slowly spreading my legs as I lean forward to peep at the most private area of me. My glistening womanhood winks back at me, enticing me to touch her, to feel and explore with one trembling finger. The digit slides itself in between the folds and the breath hitches in my throat as my mind throws up an image of Luhan, plunging every nerve of mine into sexual overdrive. In my mind’s eye, a mental slideshow of every minute detail of Luhan plays; his turfs of jet-black hair, the same hair which I grip on to tightly whenever he manages to hit my sweet spot. His eyes, the same eyes which always undress me lustfully whenever he gets in the mood. His ski-slope nose, his heart-shaped lips which have left the most fantastic kisses on my bare skin, his unscathed hands which have groped, grappled, stroked and held me.

With every little detail that crosses my mind, I gradually add a finger in between my own soaked folds and nervously pump them, breathless and desperate moans and whimpers tumbling from my lips clumsily and artistically at the same time. The silence in the bedroom is filled with my cries of high pleasure and my back arches itself as rapid images and memories of Luhan run through my head. His name escapes from my lips at the exact moment I manage to locate my sweet spot, the speed of my pumping, soaked fingers increasing as the need in the pit of my stomach grapples every inch of me, almost sending tears straight to my eyes. 


His name spills out into the open, pleading and needing as I ease myself into a temporary high while riding my soaked, slippery digits, nothing but the thought of him invading every sense of mine. Through my rapid breathing, a honey-like explosion occurs in the pit of my stomach, causing me to release right on my fingers to the erotic pumping sensation and the clouded images of Luhan in my head. White strings of my release drip onto the sheets and down the insides of my thighs, throwing up a blush on my cheeks at the bashful thought of anyone else ever finding out about my dirty little activity. Plus, I don’t even want to begin the thought of getting up and clearing the mess, especially since my entire form feels like it’s taken a nice, long dip in a bathtub of steaming hot water after that mind-blowing orgasm.

Pressing the palms of my hands against my burning cheeks, my gaze drops down to the guilty stains on the bedsheets. Good thing no one is around to take notice of it. Until the bedroom door bursts open, revealing a frantic-looking Luhan who immediately catches sight of me in bed; legs spread wide to show him my chasm of a womanhood, four fingers still drenched in my own sticky release, the stained sheets and to top it all off, the frozen ‘eyes as wide as a deer’s caught in headlights’ look on my flushed face as we stare at each other for what seems like eternity.

“H-Hi”, I blurt out stupidly, instantly shutting my legs and folding them over the evidence of my self-pleasure, but there’s no point to it, really. Luhan’s dumbfounded gaze flicks from me to my evident nudity, his socked feet rooted to the spot in the doorway, and I don’t miss the tent in his suit pants, growing in size as the seconds tick by. 

Coughing to mask my embarrassment, I busy myself with arranging the pillows and avoiding eye contact at all costs. “So what brings you back? Work finished early today? If that’s the case, it's really early, considering the fact-”

“(Y/N)”. Luhan’s curt mention of my name halts me from my aimless blabbering, clicking the door shut behind him and sealing us off from the rest of the world. Suddenly, the tension in the bedroom has risen ten-fold, causing me to break out into a sweat. It’s obvious that Luhan senses it as well, judging from the suggestive glint in his eyes and that smug little smirk of his which has crept onto his lips. He proceeds to take his own sweet time tugging off his tie, casually strolling his way over to the bed where I’m still seated on like a wax figurine, legs clenched together so tightly that the wetness of my core has spread itself all over the interior of my thighs.

He pulls his lips back in a Chesire-like smile. “Well, I was about to retrieve some paperwork which I’d forgotten but after discovering what my baby girl has been up to, I can’t just leave her in this state, can I?”

kimonkkia replied to your photo “wow can u believe peter parker is a trans boy?? iconic.”

okay yeah let’s waste time on something stupid, petty, and not transphobic like this rather than actual transphobic issues, cool. congrats you guys, super progressive, love it.

listen my dude… im tired. i donate to the hrc. i make info brochures. i run an lgbt+ club. i go to protests. but im so tired. sometimes i don’t wanna be an advocate; i just wanna be a kid drawing self-indulgent fanart on the internet. just let me draw what makes me happy instead of acting like im somehow degrading “””actual””” transphobic issues by having fun now and then.

1.) I have too much of a complex around Not Being Enough to feel comfortable right now when I see my partners showing affection to my metamours.

2.) This is why I have such a deep seated fear of new metamours in particular.

3.) I don’t have anywhere as much of a fear of metamours who were around before I came in the picture, because by design they can’t put me face up with my fear of Not Being Enough. Their presence in my life does not make me feel replaced.

4.) I don’t in any way think that I have replaced my metamours who were around before me. With them, I know it doesn’t work that way. But I fully commit to my double standards and can simultaneously know that while I am not replacing them, newer people are replacing me.

5.) It’s not at all logical. Especially with M, I know we have a strong enough relationship that I would not be replaced. I know that I never once thought that Crow was replacing M or felt any resentment or anger towards M after I started dating Crow. But, as always, see point 4.

6.) When I have Not Being Enough shoved in my face as in point 1, I don’t crumble. I don’t cry. I don’t show hurt. I only release those emotions to people who have been Vetted (plus, apparently, to the entire internet), and then I have no trouble letting those emotions fly in full swing. But if you haven’t been Vetted, you don’t get to see that part of me, you haven’t earned it yet, you haven’t proven yourself trustworthy in very many senses of the word.

7.) So in place of not showing hurt, where on the inside I feel like my ego is crying and screaming and banging on the inner walls of my stomach demanding for the thing to Stop, I do the other trope. I turn to snark. I turn into Daria, or the canonical douchy Gryffindor, or Penny from The Magicians (show!Penny, not book!Penny), for the purposes of balancing everything out, of reminding people that they’re being ri-fucking-diculous, of calling attention to the fact that, no, I’m actually not 100% comfortable with this, I don’t find joy of seeing my partners snuggle or kiss someone else but also that I know I’m not allowed to admit that because it’s self indulgent and I should just let them have their fun.

8.) I can reign in the bitchiness well enough in a small group. When it’s just us, partners and metamours. When there is anyone else, when my friends are watching, when I feel like all eyes are checking my reaction to see if I’m okay with that, there’s nothing I can do, I’m Helpless (“and her eyes are just…”).

9.) I know that ultimately most of this is About Me, but please don’t expect me to undo 29 years of detrimental life lessons in a year, and please understand why I might feel a little off-put when I express to someone that I’m not 100% okay with poly and they ask “What’s behind that?”, as if we all understand and agree that not being 100% okay with poly means necessarily that you have some unresolved shit going on, and that if you were to just fix all your shit then suddenly you’d be able to live this poly utopia that apparently the asker is living, and I know that no one thinks they’re living a poly utopia but I want people to recognize that the question (while valid and interesting) can carry some patronizing implications that the asker might not intend but the listener might pick up on, because I’m already doing that work, I’m already carrying a heavy enough load, I already know that all of this is About Me, but that doesn’t mean that this is something I should go through without help or understanding, or that this isn’t something that is okay to feel or that the raw statement that I’m not 100% okay with poly should lead anyone to assume that I’ve got shit I’m working on.


11.) I’m actually nowhere near as upset right now as this post would suggest. I just had to get out some abstract feelings that were bouncing around in my head that I’m not actually feeling right now. Actually, most of the time I post, I’m not actually feeling the feeling that I appear to be feeling.

I really love it when Scarecrow has that special grin™, because it’s full of devious implications. You can tell that the gears in his head are turning, and that he’s methodically planning out the most effective way to bring you to your knees in terror. And yet, it just makes him look so attractive to me

Oh no, please don’t inject me with your latest toxin, Dr.Crane…
That would be just awful.

blurredmxnds  asked:

I was looking through your personal tag for HC and I died reading ace Aaron. Please tell me if you're thinking about a part two with Andrew and Neil finding out 🙏🏼

Okay, so you honestly have no idea how freaking happy this ask made me! 😁

I definitely have more ideas for an ace Aaron series and I’ve been debating for days whether to make it a series of headcanon posts like that one or if I should turn it into a fic series. So, knowing that the idea isn’t just totally self-indulgent and knowing that someone is interested in more means so, so much to me!

(Also, if anyone has any preference for bulleted headcanons vs. a series of one-shots for this, then let me know.)

Kissing Lessons

I was inspired by this lovely piece of art by @xallyxcatxshere and wrote this.

Essentially, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Cat Noir asks Ladybug for kissing lessons.

“Hey, milady, can I ask a favor?”

Ladybug raised a brow. “It depends on the favor, kitty.”

“Have you ever kissed someone before?”

“I’ve kissed you,” she reminded him, smiling. “Remember?”

“No.” She knew he didn’t, but he’d certainly heard enough about it from his kwami to know what she meant. “I just…” He looked down, swinging his feet. “I’m not sure I know how.”

“Really?” She glanced over at him, “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I’ve been kind of…sheltered. My only friend for a while wasn’t really someone I’d want to ask.”

“Hm…” She looked back to the city in front of them, tapping the edge of the building where they sat. “So, there’s someone you want to kiss?”

He blushed. “Maybe.”

“Does this mean you’ve moved on from me?” she asked, her tone light despite the confusing pain in her chest. She loved Adrien, she reminded herself, so if Cat Noir was turning his attention to someone else, that was a good thing.

“Who says it isn’t you?” He grinned, gently nudging her with his elbow.

She laughed. “Is it?”

He just smiled.

“I know a little,” she answered finally. “But I’m not exactly a kissing expert.”

He repositioned himself so he was seated facing her. “Could you teach me?”

She briefly considered the pros and cons. After all, she had a crush on someone else, and he seemed smitten with her. He was her partner, and this would complicate things. She cared about Cat Noir, and this…this could be a huge mistake. At the same time, though, this was Cat Noir. Her silly and sweet partner, who was asking her for help. While perhaps she wasn’t the best option, he trusted her and, if she were to be completely honest with herself, she trusted him, too. Their eyes met, his hopeful and hers hesitant, and she couldn’t help but nod and turn to fully face him.

She moved closer, both seated cross-legged with their knees and and feet touching. He leaned closer, heart racing.

“Okay, first you have to build up to it.” She took a steadying breath. “Eye contact. Gentle touches. Complimenting the other person.” Her lips quirked into a half-smile. “Preferably without puns.”

“You’re kitten me. No puns?” He joked, hiding his nerves behind a grin.

“Trust me, it kills the mood.”

He chuckled and hesitantly reached out a hand, “Um, can I?”

She nodded.

He rested a hand on the side of her jaw, and she swallowed at the brush of leather over her cheek.

“Good.” She leaned forward, contemplating how to explain the next step. “Okay, then for the kiss itself, you… well.” This was definitely a bad idea, she thought to herself even as she continued speaking, “I could show you.”

His eyes widened. “Y-Yeah. That… yeah!”

They’d already kissed, she reasoned. Surely, this wouldn’t change things any more than the one that had cured him of Dark Cupid’s arrow. “So, I’ll just…go ahead and demonstrate. Then, I’ll explain after.”


“Now, just tilt your head,” she instructed softly.

“Like this?” He asked after doing as instructed.

“Y-Yeah and…uh…” She angled slightly, “Close your eyes.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. She watched him silently for a moment, finally cupping the back of his neck and gently pulling him closer. His breath ghosted over her lips as she moved forward, and she saw a deep red blush spread over his cheeks. Something in the back of her mind chanted that this was a mistake, but she chose to ignore it.

She pressed her lips to his, and she immediately knew that this was, indeed, a terrible mistake. Still, as she closed her eyes and moved closer, it was absolutely a mistake that she would love to make again and again. His lips were soft, she noted, wondering what kind of lip products he used and further wondering if hers were chapped by comparison.

Her nose rubbed over his as she repositioned herself for a better angle, and she smiled. Part of her had wondered if this would be awkward, but in reality it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He felt warm and safe, and she adored the way her heart fluttered at his soft hum of approval. While she had expected him to enjoy this, she hadn’t expected to be so pleased with it. His free hand moved up to slowly interlace his fingers with those of her free hand. She squeezed, and she could swear he let out a soft purr.

Part of her knew she should back off now. This was certainly a sufficient demonstration, but she wasn’t quite ready to stop. She wanted to stay here and bask in his delicate touches, in the happy little sound he made each time she shifted. The rational part of her mind urged her to slow down. Instead, she held him closert still, gently tangling her fingers in his hair and marveling at how he shivered under her touch.

In the end, he leaned back, staring up at her with wide eyes and even wider pupils, his lips and cheeks bright red as he searched her expression for some sign that she had responded to him just as much as he’d responded to her. He was rewarded by the sight of a breathless, blushing Ladybug who watched him as he delicately pressed a kiss to each knuckle of the hand he held in his own.

“I think…” She swallowed. “I think you understand it pretty well, kitty.”

“You’re a great teacher,” he murmured, looking up at her with a genuine smile, “Thank you, milady.”

That smile… That soft, warm smile… She jerked back, tugging her hand free as internal alarms sounded and woke her from her stupor. “W-well, it’s getting late. I should really be going.”

He raised a brow. “Is…everything okay?”

No. Everything wasn’t okay. She’d just kissed Cat Noir and really, really liked it. Then, he had to flash her this beatific smile that reminded her so much of Adrien it hurt. “Yeah, I just…” She fiddled with her yo-yo as she slowly backed up. “I just need to be going home. I have plans tomorrow.”

“If I crossed a line…”

“No, not at all.” She shook her head. Of course he was worried, and that only made her feel guiltier. “I just…” She let out a weak laugh, relaxing just a little. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”

He grinned, leaping to his feet. “You weren’t expecting to like it.”

His jab made it easier for her to dismiss the moment, and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t get a big head now. It just means you shouldn’t be nervous about kissing the girl you like.”

He stepped closer, a little hesitant but still smiling, and her heart rate spiked. “So, does that mean I can kiss you again?”

She smirked, ignoring the small, irritating part of her that was already begging her to agree. She even ignored the much larger, much more insistent part of her that urged her to shut him down. Instead, she listened to the part of her that was maybe just a bit smitten and teasingly offered, “If you can catch me.” Then, she soared off with her yo-yo, leaving him to laugh and follow her.

Okay, first of all, I am so sorry for the several stories I have in progress that I’m not working on. I don’t know what is going on with this massive writing wasteland I’ve entered, but I promise I have plans to finish other things!

Also, this was a sort of self-indulgent, impulsive piece that I didn’t ask my beta to read over (sorry), so let me know if you see any errors!

To anyone who needs the link for the art in text form, here it is:

Some Kind Of Proof

@the-delivery-god​ wanted some self-indulgent fluff based off lyrics from Paramore’s The Only Exception, and I hope this hits the spot! Many thanks to @sojustifiable for the eyes and fluff-couragement. 

On AO3 and FFN.

Raindrops lazily slide down the glass pane of Hiyori’s bedroom window, their soft staccato rhythm hypnotic in the late afternoon gloom. Yato stares at her ceiling while he waits for her to come home, eyes half lidded as he lets the rain count out the seconds until she’s back. But should he even see her? Sure, she’d said he’d always been her god of fortune, but what if she was wrong? What if she was just she was just being her kind, resilient, compassionate self, and he was actually hurting her in his selfish unwillingness to cut their ties? Closing his eyes completely, he rolls onto his side in the fetal position and tries not to think about the times he’s almost gotten her killed. Or worse.

Of course, that’s all he can think about now. He sees her face, twisted in worry and concern, when she and Kazuma ran to his side during his battle with Bishamon. Sees her leaping after an ayakashi, intending to land a side kick but leaving her cord wide open to attack; doesn’t she understand how vulnerable it makes her? It would only take one clean hit, one sluggish reaction for his world to shatter all over again. Memories of the hospital haunt him next, the way Hiyori shoved him away, half-ayakashi claws blighting him for the first time since they met. He’ll never forget her tear-stained face as she hovered over him, fighting desperately to regain sense of herself while he resigned himself to either dying by her hand or reaching her with words. Thank goodness the words were enough.

Sighing, he flops onto his back again and rubs his face. She’s done so much for him and he’s done so comparatively little for her; there’s gotta be some way he can make it up to her. She’s saved him so many times: brought Kazuma to Yukine’s ablution, stopped him from killing Bishamon, summoned his soul from the Underworld before he was lost to it for good, built him the shrine that granted him access to Takamagahara and got him one step closer to his dream. The shrine she built with those strong hands, hands that are always so warm when they grab his shoulder or brush his cheek.

An idea blooms in his mind, a small way for him to show his gratitude for the girl who has stridden with such purpose into his heart. His face aches with the force of his smile as he jumps off her bed to gather the necessary materials. She’s definitely gonna like this!

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I have a request: could you just talk about chubby Bucky, anything your beautiful chubby loving heart desires, anything you've ever wanted to say that you never have, ANYTHING

Can I talk about chubby Bucky?  I can and I will.  It’s one of my favorite topics of conversation.

Okay, so since you asked for anything my heart desires, I decided to be pretty self-indulgent with this. Allow me to present to you, my dear dumpster anon –

Chubby Bucky Barnes: The Evolution

Okay, so first, let’s just establish that Bucky has never not been a little soft.  

Again, for the folks in the back: he has never not been soft.

Let us consider him in the First Avenger:

You can tell me that he has a six pack under that uniform, but I will spit in the face of your skinny propaganda.  Bucky Barnes was sturdy, well-fed, and sleek as a baby seal before the war.  You will never convince me otherwise.  

And let’s think about what that would have meant to Steve, who’s tiny and sick and all knees and elbows and angles? The feeling of Bucky’s sturdy body when Bucky casually throws his arm over his shoulder, that easy camaraderie and physical contact?  It would feel so different to Steve than  his own body, safe and comforting.  And imagine, if you will, how much Steve might have liked knowing about that secret little puff of softness around Bucky’s waist, that tiny little pooch of belly fat that no one else saw but Steve knew was there because Bucky is absolutely shameless around him, shirtless in the summers, cuddled next to him for heat in the winters, and Steve knows.  

So.  Then shit hits the fan (and Bucky hits the ground from a great height).  Enter the Winter Soldier.

Originally posted by harleyquinn00

Does the Soldier look soft? No.  No, he doesn’t.  Hydra has shaped him into an actual, factual cyborg, a walking, talking weapon.  He doesn’t need to be soft.  He needs to be finely honed.  


Consider the thighs.

Originally posted by angrymysticarchive

Consider the softness of the jaw:

Originally posted by blackinjustice

Consider the fact that, even when he’s stripped shirtless and about to get wiped, there’s a sturdiness about him.  He’s muscled, sure.  Abs, definitely.  But is he ripped to shreds?  Nope. 

And that’s part of what makes the Soldier so goddamn heartbreaking.  Because there are shades of Bucky Barnes in him everywhere you turn, that lingering softness around the edges.

And then, my friend. Hoo boy.  Then Civil War happens and the entire game changes.

Bucky looks like this:

Originally posted by youneedtostrut

And like this:

Originally posted by strictly-bucky

And, dear sweet jesus, like this:

Originally posted by tyrant-princess

And let’s imagine what that means to Steve.  Steve, who remembers a time when Bucky was so much bigger than him, when Bucky was his protector and guardian angel and safe haven.  Steve, who is now bigger than nearly everyone he meets – but not Bucky, not anymore. Bucky’s still the bigger of the two. Bucky’s shoulders are still broader, Bucky’s waist is still thicker, Bucky’s chest is still wider.  

Imagine what that does to Steven Grant Rogers.

And imagine what it does to all of us, when we watch that goddamn mid credits scene.  Because here is this man, so fucking powerful, so fucking BIG (oh my god, him biiiggggg), and yet he’s completely vulnerable.  He is, in that moment, so ridiculously soft.

Originally posted by hurtbymanyblogs

I’ll be honest, anon. I would have sold my fucking soul for this scene to have been shot topless.  Hell, just for a slow pan of his midsection in that stupid tank top, which you KNOW would have been pulled taut over his belly – maybe enough to stretch out the ribbing, right over the thickest part of his waist.

Fuck, anon.  Just writing this damn answer killed me.  I have died. 

But yeah.  Chubby Bucky.  I have thoughts and feelings about him. 

Feeling kinda down, on the 24th is the 1 year anniversary of my mother’s stroke. Her last actual words to me was “sleep tight don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Then the next day is my 32nd birthday and not really expecting much. Just because I don’t have a ton of friends and no family to celebrate it with like I use to. It was one of the few times out of the year that my family wasn’t totally jerks.

I work on my birthday. Which is okay with me, keep me busy.

Might do something special on the day after as I have that day off. Do some self indulgent writing. Haven’t done much writing lately due to some writers block on FiF.


star wars legends » roan lands

“The Emperor doesn’t believe in following regulations,” Roan said. “He lets the Senate pass them and then ignores them. It’s a convenient version of democracy.”

yooo by the time this posts i will be officially on a plane off to get married y’all, 7 days until the wedding (EDIT: I’M BAD AT TUMBLR AND THIS POSTED A DAY EARLY LMAO IM BOARDING THE PLANE IN 20 HOURS WISH ME LUCK)

so while I’m away dealing with IMMINENT MARRIAGE stuff I’m just gonna queue up a bunch of self indulgent davekat marriage bullshit enjoy

#1: I like to think that it actually takes them a long time to get married, because they’re comfortable with what they have and I think a big part of their thing is making the decision to let go of labels and just accept that the things that make them happy are unique to them and that’s okay. Plus the years of teasing they undoubtedly endure to the tone of “so when are you guys finally gonna just get married already” makes them more stubborn about it, and also, the idea of getting in front of everyone and affirming their feelings and intentions in such an aggressively public way is just like, lmao, NO PLEASE. I like to think they spend some years just working on themselves out and becoming comfortable with who they are and what they want.

Partners in Crime

Nalu Week: Day 4: Secrets

Lucy had been minding her own business, honest. She had been walking through the school’s parking lot after a study session with Levy in the library when she accidentally noticed it, the crime. Well it wasn’t exactly what you’d call a crime but still what she saw would definitely get the individual in heaps of trouble, at least a week of detention.

Now she could have just walked by and ignore the crime being committed right in front of her but she did a double take when she saw, what she figured was a prank, who it was being committed against.

“Hey!” Lucy shouted as she made her way towards the car “What do you think you’re doing?”

The pranker in question shrinked down when he heard her screaming at him. He tugged the black beanie further down his head as if it could hide him

“I know you heard me” Lucy said as she stared down at the man crouched down by the principal’s car.

“Don’t you have eyes?” the boy mumbled, barely audible.

“I do and they’re perfect twenty-twenty vision so I know what it is I’m seeing” Lucy said as the suspect placed his spray paint can on the blacktop, not like the damage had already been done.

“Well than” the boy said as he held his hands up, still hiding his face from her “You caught me red handed. What are you going to do, snitch? See if I care, it’s just some detention plus I can have this all cleaned up before you could even get someone out here to see it.”

Keep reading