#// either of you or both can respond to this

[yuvany]

COUNTING SHEEP

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 when you feel exhausted

OT7 enhypen x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + skinship + kisses + petnames + est relationship . . WORD COUNT : 848 . CHECK BOX !!

福 > LIKED THIS ? — " ENHYPEN BEING TIRED "

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You were so tired that you didn't even want to wait until you reached somewhere more comfortable to sleep rather than the cool floor. You didn't mind, but Heeseung did. He walks into the corridor and saw you curled up on the floor with your legs tucked to your chest. He has a questioned look on his face and hunches down. Heeseung figures that you won't wake up, and lifts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom to get a proper sleep. You wake up mid-way and Heeseung asks, "Is my princess finally awake?" You don't respond, but only rubs your eyes. "I must say that you did look comfortable." He chuckles and you kiss him on the cheek.

( rest of the members under the cut ! )

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Nothing worries Jay more than seeing you knocked out from exhaustion. He had seen you step foot into the house and taken a seat on the couch not too long ago, and now, you were out like a light. Jay figured that he could help you out and runs over to your room to grab your blanket and returns quickly to throw it over your limp body, being extremely careful not to wake you up on accident. Then he walks into the kitchen and prepares tea leaves while the water is boiling. After a while, he returns with a hot cup of tea and places it on the coffee table for when you wake up. He leans over and whispers, "Sweet dreams, my love."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Sees your head hovering over your desk with papers scattered everywhere. Jake curiously peeks from the bed and sees that you aren't writing anything and just exhales loudly. "Babe, what's up?" Jake asks, his voice seeming to smooth everything for a second. You groan and stretch your back. "I've been reading this over and over, but I can't seem to comprehend what it's saying." You complain. Jake jumps out of bed and rests his head on yoru shoulder as he looks at the paper. "How about we do it together, so you can sleep faster?" You nod at his idea and in return he kisses you on the cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

Raises an eyebrow at the sight of your tired state, you notice this and raise your own. "What happened to you, sweetie?" He asks, opening his arms for you to walk into. "Wow, thank you." You reply sarcastically. Not accepting his hug. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Talk to me, pretty girl." Sunghoon says, lightly wrapping his arms around your shoudlers. You hug him and sigh into his chest. "Been a rough day at work, love." You say, feeling his palm run up and down your spine. "Let's get you changed and you can tell me all about it." Sunghoon slowly guides you to the bathroom.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo woke up in the middle of the night, wanting to go get himself a glass of water, but when he stumbles into the kitchen he sees you sitting there in front of your open laptop. "Sweetheart? What are you doing up so late?" He asks, his voice sounding huskier than you recognise. "I just remembered I needed to finish this." You say and show him what's on your laptop screen. "It's late though, can't you do this tomorrow?" He asks, his fingers finding your scalp to massage. "But I really need to." You say, but he suts you off and says, "You also need sleep, and I'm in need of cuddles anyway." He pulls you out of your seat and you give in with a sigh.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"I'm so tired, won.." you mumble into his chest, the movie not being in your interest any more. Jungwon draws circles on your shoulder and kisses your temples. "Then we can go to sleep, angel." You hum stubbornly and shake your head. "No need, I can go to bed while you finish this movie." You explain, rubbing your eyes. Jungwon in turn shakes his head too. "It's either both of us, or none, babe." You sigh, feeling bad for him in this situation since you knew how much he wanted to see this film. "I'm not that tired any more," you lied, and he senses this, so he pulls the blanket over the two of you, and snuggles close to you with a smile. "Now it's sorted!"

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You sat beside him while he was playing a video game, and throughout the time you spent together, your head would bump against his shoulder a couple of times due to the long day you already had and the dark setting illuminated by the soft lights of the television screen. Having your boyfriend beside you didn't change much of the fact either. At one point, you dozed off, and Riki hadn't realised it until you started to softly snore. He turned his head and was ready to say something until he saw your tired figure. He smiles to himself and helps you into a more comfortable position before turning off the game and cuddling close to you.

─── ꒰ 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗬𝗨𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗬 ꒱

[ consider reblogging and liking this post if you enjoyed it !! I hope you liked this just as much as I did ^3^ ]

[cyberrose2001]

Heyo! Can I request some stress sex with Op, fem reader and Ratchet? The two work so hard and maybe some.joking around when mentioning the readers name, the two stressed bots snap, and reader ends up railed into?

TFP Optimus x human!Reader x Ratchet

Hayy thank you for requesting! I've kind of just jumped right into the good stuff since I wasn't entirely sure what you implied with the joking around. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: AFAB Reader, Established relationship, Poly, Implied Mass-Displaced, Cum Dumping + Cum Shots, Masturbation, Fingering, Spit, Slight Oral

Word count: 2,186

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

"C'mere, you." Ratchet catches your chin with a servo, bringing your lips closer to capture them in a long-anticipated kiss. His other servo holds your lower back, inching closer down to cup your ass.

Moaning into the kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck. Hard steel meets soft fingertips as you play amongst the seams. The medic groans with you as he presses his glossa against your teeth, a gentle command exuding confidence that makes your knees weak.

A new set of metallic lips meets your body. It's a welcomed one, inviting your other lover in by tilting your neck just enough. The Prime licks and sucks at your already bruised skin, reminiscing of all the previous bouts of love poured over you. His servos find the side of your ribcage, running the tips over and between where they lie under your shirt.

"We missed you today," Optimus says breathlessly against your ear, nipping at your lobes, "I apologise for our busy schedule."

Parting your lips from Ratchet, who responds with a groan and a small flick at your lips with his glossa, you turn your attention to the mech behind you, "I don't care," You lift your hand to caress his face, "Just fuck me."

"With pleasure," Ratchet mumbles into your neck, having seized the opportunity to nuzzle himself against you. He dips his servos down to tug at the hem of your shirt.

"Here- let me." Optimus strips the fabric over your head, dumping it on the ground. Ratchet is next, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. With hands as dexterous as his, he quickly does so and lets it fall from your shoulders.

Optimus groans at the sight, snaking his servos in front to cup at your breasts. They fit against his palms perfectly, as if you were made for him. He kneads them together, squishing and squeezing them. It causes a soft moan from you, and you lean your chest into his touch. His metal is cold to touch and sends a shiver down your spine.

"I'm takin' these off." Ratchet focuses his attention on your pants and dips his digits underneath. He grips your underwear, too, and pulls them down to your ankles to let you step out of them. As soon as he does, Ratchet's dermas are attached to your skin, and he kisses his way upwards. No stone unturned; not one inch of your flesh is spared from his opened-mouth kisses, worshipping your flesh like it's the last time he'll ever get a taste.

You can feel Optimus' impatience poking at your lower back, surely pent up from the stresses of leadership. You can feel your own arousal start to build at the thought of his impatience plunging into you. Rubbing your thighs together to ease some pressure, it catches the attention of both hungry mechs.

"Come on, Optimus," Ratchet grips onto your hips, standing up to full height, which seems to be miles above your head, "Let's get 'em on the berth; I'm far too impatient for mere foreplay."

Optimus agrees entirely, wrapping his arms around your midsection and effortlessly picking you up. He steps back until the back of his knees hits the berth, hauling you up against him. With a small surprised shriek from you, he flops back to lay fully onto the berth, your back lying against his chassis. Your other lover closely follows, climbing up to plant himself between both yours and Optimus' thighs firmly.

"Who's spiking first?" Ratchet asks, placing both servos onto your spread thighs. His optics hold the weight of cement, and he cannot look anywhere but your exposed folds.

"I will allow you first, old friend," Optimus presses his face against the side of yours, "I am sure our little love does not mind either way, hm?"

You nod, a desperate whine dragged from your throat when Optimus snakes his servo around to circle at your clit, "Yes, yes, I don't care, just- just please fuck me."

"I love it when you beg like that," It takes no more convincing from Ratchet to unsheath his spike. It's much smaller than Optimus but large and thick enough to keep you begging for more. He brings a servo to his mouth and spits on it before working his oral lubricants over his spike. Once satisfied, he leans down to kiss the inside of your thigh before letting his lubricants well up in his mouth and spits on your pussy. Optimus chuckles lowly at your reaction, allowing the warm spit to lubricate his digits to spread it all around your folds.

Once he feels sufficiently hard enough, Ratchet presses the tip against the threshold. He's too eager and can hardly wait a moment longer, "Oh, Primus-" He pushes further, slowly working half of his shaft inside.

He's barely seated inside you, and you're already trembling, resisting the urge to cry out. Optimus holds you steady, whispering soft praises and encouragement through it all.

"So well," Optimus watches with hazed optics as Ratchet sinks fully inside you, his digits continuing to work on your bud, "You take Ratchet exceedingly well."

Ratchet lets out a rough grunt, "Though a rather tight fit, might I add-" He leans his body over, making a sexually charged sandwich out of you, "But you feel like fragging silk." He shivers above you, and you've got no choice but to stare into his optics as he withdraws his length and thrusts hard back into you.

"Oh my god-" Your speech falters, and you arch your back against Optimus. Though not as fast-paced as the Prime, the medics feel longer and more powerful each time and ring your vocal cords like a bell.

"That's it-" Ratchet buries his helm into your neck, his work of breathing increasing with every plunge into your plush pussy, "Take it- take all of it."

Optimus chimes in, his voice strained with anticipation and longing, "They certainly are-" The driving force of Ratchet causes your back to grind and rub against his spike. He breathlessly nips at your ear lobe, "Tell him how he makes you feel, sweetspark."

"S-So good-" You moan, stringing together whatever words you can claw at, "Feels so good- nghn-"

"Yeah?" Ratchet grunts as he increases his speed. His grip on your waist tightens with every thrust, all indications point to his overload inching closer and closer, "Gahh- Frag, say my name-"

A filthy rendition of his name falls from your lips, slurred and full of lust for the mech. His thick spike is grinding and pressing against every sweet spot known to humankind. Your hands find his shoulder plating, gripping on for dear life as your own orgasm breaches the horizon. Optimus holds you steady and keeps you from squirming, letting Ratchet indulge in your flesh freely.

"Oh, you sweet thing-" The medic sits upright, pistoning his hips while hungry optics gaze down on your wobbling flesh, "So fraggin' gorgeous."

It takes only a few more pumps of his spike before you call out each other's names. Ratchet presses his pulsing spike as far as he physically can inside you, his frame shaking as he pumps full to the brim. Your body tenses, and your hands shuffle to find Optimus' servos, gripping them as you cross the threshold. The Prime responds by comforting you, intertwining his digits with yours, and murmuring praises against your ear.

"Primus, just when I- guhh-" Ratchet pants, squeezing his optics shut as you clench around him, "Just when I thought you couldn't get tighter." He taps a digit on your other lover's thigh, "Your turn. Ready?"

"Whenever you are satisfied," Optimus says. He snakes his servo to your front once again to prepare for Ratchet to pull out. With a strained groan, he does, and as soon as his spike unsheathes itself from you, Optimus shoves a digit inside to plug you up, preventing the flood of transfluids from escaping you.

"Here, let me help." Ratchet slips Optimus' spike out from under you. He presses the tip against your entrance alongside Optimus' digits, quickly slipping it past your folds, "There you go."

The Prime underneath you groans, vibrating your entire body. He grips your hips with restraint but with enough force to push you down his whole length, helped out by the slick of your pussy and Ratchets' transfluids. The sheer girth has you keening as your walls stretch and clamp down onto it. Ratchets' dermas are automatically on yours to capture your moans and cries.

"Primus-" Optimus lifts you higher onto his hips for a slight adjustment before he begins to move within you. The warmth of your pussy mixed with the hot transfluids has him clenching his optics shut and burying his face against the side of your neck, "You feel wonderful."

"They sure do, don't they?" Ratchet kisses your tear-stained cheek after your soft lips, "You're perfect."

Your ability to speak leaves you when Optimus gives you a particularly harsh thrust, and you cry out his name. Shaky hands find the ones holding onto your hips as you, once again, hold on for dear life as you're fucked for the second time tonight.

Ratchet sits up again, his lust-filled optics trained on the way your pussy stretches around the thick spike, how your face twists in pleasure, and how the drool inches down your chin. You're a complete and utterly fucked mess, and the sight of it all has his spike standing tall and erect once more. He bites his lower derma as he takes his aching spike in his fist and pumps himself, moaning with you and Optimus.

The Prime glances up from your neck, noticing his friend masturbating to you being fucked, "Not- aghh- finished yet, are you, old friend?"

"Never-" Ratchets' hips stutter, gritting his dentae as he squeezes himself from base to tip, "Never finished."

Optimus growls lowly into your ear, "Then we better give him a worthy performance-" He then wraps his arms tightly around your chest, causing you to forget how to breathe for a moment before he fucks up into you so hard you nearly black out. You no longer have control as he pinned your arms against you. He's unrelenting, rutting into you hard enough that the remnants of Ratchets transfluids spurt and dribble out of you. And the said mech groans in approval, jerking his cock faster and faster.

"C'mon, sweetspark," Ratchet edges closer to another overload, shuffling forward so his spike is within inches of your stretched-out hole, "Overload again- nghh- for us-"

"I- fuckfuckfuck-" You whimper out, unable to squirm or even move in Optimus' embrace. Your body starts to convulse, and your head falls back against the mech's neck as your whimpers bloom into sheer, unrestrained, and sinful cries, cumming around Optimus' cock.

"Primus, yes-" The Prime groans, his vocaliser strained. He pushes you down as far as you can take, dumping his load deep within your little organic valve. His own frame begins to tremble, jolting with every squeeze you give him. Your jaw goes slack, feeling every crevice within you filling up with with sticky transfluids. It causes a bulge in your stomach, a wonderous testament to how pliable your little human body is.

Ratchet is close by, desperately pumping his spike. His other servo finds your bulging stomach, caressing and pressing against it, "Frag yes, t-take it..." He moans wantonly, his second overload walloping him. Thick ropes of hot transfluid shoot out onto your stretched pussy, coating your outer lips and clit; some miss and shoot out onto your stomach. It causes another moan to leave your lips, the heat against your sensitive folds sending a tingling sensation up your spine.

He finishes himself off, squeezing every last drop from his tip before he sits on his heels, spikes brushing limply against your inner thigh. Optimus, once barely recovered from his overload, takes a moment to peer over your shoulder to gaze lovingly at the utter mess between your legs. A mess that they caused.

"Goodness," Optimus chuckles lowly, releasing his grip from your torso, "Look at the state you are in."

Your entire groin and everything in between is soaking in their sticky transfluids. It drips down your folds and along the shaft, still buried deep within you. It's a lewd sight, for sure, worthy enough for both of the bots to snap a picture and save it to their internal hard drives.

Ratchet breathlessly laughs with him, caressing your inner thighs soothingly, "Quite the mess, if I say so myself."

"It was..." You pant tiredly, your pussy still clenching around Optimus' dully throbbing spike. Your heart races, but you feel utterly relaxed against his frame as you soak in the afterglow, "Well worth the wait."

Optimus gives you an exhausted smile, kissing the side of your reddened and bruised neck, "I share the same sentiment."

"Speaking of, I hope we all share the same sentiment regarding getting you cleaned up," Ratchet shuffles back and leans down to bury his face between your thighs, licking a stripe up your drenched clit, "I'm peckish for dessert."

[dystopic-view]

Roommate wanted

Geto x fem/afab reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Suguru Geto, a quiet college student, rents out a room in his small apartment, and when you move in, things start off distant. But over a shared love for music and some late-night conversation, unexpected sparks fly. As the tension builds, you're left wondering where this connection might take you both.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: fluff, college au, roommate au, slow burn, tension, chemistry, first kiss

𝐖.𝐂: 4.7K

You were walking down the street with a sense of growing anticipation, the soft crunch of fallen leaves under your feet filling the silence.

The address on your phone matched the worn number above the door of a small apartment building.

You double checked it, even though you already knew it was right.

The place looked exactly like the kind of thing you'd expect from a college student renting out a room.

Small, slightly old, but with a certain charm.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the building's creaky front door and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Your heartbeat raced slightly when you reached the apartment door.

Apartment 2B, the one in the ad you responded to.

You wondered what Suguru Geto would be like.

His texts had been short, almost dismissive.

Just some details about the apartment, none of the pleasantries you usually exchange when meeting new people.

Not unfriendly, but not exactly welcoming either.

You knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened.

He stood there, tall and composed, with dark eyes that flickered over you for a split second before he stepped aside without a word, letting you inside.

There was something about him that felt... distant.

Like he was letting you into his space but not into his world.

“Come in,” he said, his voice low and monotone.

He didn’t bother with small talk, just gestured toward the room down the hall. "It's this way."

The silence persisted as you followed him, and you wondered if he was always that quiet.

Or if it was just you.

You followed him through the narrow hallway, your eyes scanning the walls, which were pretty empty except for a few scuffed patches and an old calendar hanging slightly crooked on a hook.

It wasn’t even the right month.

Or year.

The apartment felt minimal, like he only occupied it because he had to.

You couldn’t help but notice how little there was to fill in the empty space.

No photos, no decorations, nothing.

It was the kind of place you imagined someone living in, but not really living with.

The room he was renting out was small, with a single window that let in the tiniest amount of sunlight.

Not a lot of furniture either.

You spotted a bed, a desk, a small bookshelf with a few scattered textbooks, and a closet that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years.

It smelled faintly of old paper and the incense he must have burned at some point.

You wondered if he had been living there for a long time or if this was just a temporary stop for him, like it might’ve been for you.

Geto stood by the door, his arms loosely crossed over his chest.

He watched you as you took in the room, his expression unreadable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sizing you up.

Not in a judgmental way, but more like he was deciding whether you’d fit into his lifestyle.

“This is it,” he said, breaking the silence but still not offering any extra words. “If you’re still interested, we can talk rent.”

You turned to face him, and his eyes were as calm as they were when he opened the door. There was something cold in his demeanor, like he’d already decided to keep you at arm’s length.

It didn’t feel exactly rude, but it was far from friendly.

He was more like a wall than a person, but you found yourself wondering what was on the other side of said wall.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you replied, a little uncertain if that’s what he wanted to hear.

“Good,” he said, turning back toward the hall. "Kitchen’s shared. Bathroom, too. No pets." His voice was so quiet, you almost didn’t hear the last part.

You followed him out of the room and back into the main area of the apartment.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, the light from the window reflecting in his dark hair as he pushed it away from his face.

For a moment, you thought he was going to say something else.

Maybe something more personal.

But he just glanced at you again, this time with a speck of what might’ve been impatience.

“Any questions?” he asked, but the way he said it made it sound like he was hoping you didn’t have any.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the space again.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

There was a good kind of solitude to it, and that felt right.

Despite Geto's indifference, or maybe because of it, you found yourself more interested in living there than you'd expected.

“I’m interested,” you said firmly, as if trying to cut through the space between you.

He nodded, barely reacting. “Good. You can move in whenever. Rent’s due at the end of the month. No parties, no loud music. I won’t bother you, and I expect the same.”

He paused in the middle of his sentence, but it didn't feel uncomfortable.

You figured that was just how he was.

Blunt, to the point.

“I can move in tomorrow,” you offered, hoping it would fit his schedule.

You were eager to get settled, to make that room yours and see what it felt like to live in a space so quiet, with someone like him.

He glanced at you, and for a second, his expression softened.

Not by much, but enough that you caught it. “Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll be around. Just text me before you get here.”

You nodded, grateful that he didn’t make it complicated.

He pushed off the counter and headed toward the door.

The conversation was over, apparently, but to be fair, there was nothing left to say anyway. He opened the door, waiting for you to step out, and you did.

“See you tomorrow, then,” you said, looking back one last time.

He simply nodded again, his hand resting lightly on the door, ready to close it the moment you left.

The next day came faster than you expected.

Before you knew it, you were standing in that same hallway again, boxes in your arms and the smell of a fresh start in the air.

Geto didn’t offer to help as you moved in.

You didn’t expect him to either way.

You unpacked in silence, the only sound being the quiet rustling of your clothes and belongings finding their places.

The room was small but quickly became cozy once you started filling it with your things.

A couple of posters, your own books now adorning the bookshelf, and your comfy bedding draped over the worn mattress.

The window let in the soft afternoon light, bathing the room in a warm, golden hue.

You caught yourself glancing at the door every now and then, half expecting Geto to appear. Maybe to say something, anything.

But he didn’t.

The apartment was eerily quiet, as if the two of you existed in completely separate worlds, despite sharing the same walls.

You didn’t mind it, though.

In fact, there was something strangely calming about the way he left you alone, as if the space was yours and yours alone the moment you stepped inside.

Still, you wondered how long that would last.

You were sitting on your knees on the floor of your new room, surrounded by half unpacked boxes.

Your fingers worked through a stack of CDs, pulling them out one by one.

You glanced at the covers, and stacked them in a neat pile beside you.

Deftones, System of a Down, Incubus, the soundtrack to your teenage years and beyond, still just as good as you remembered.

It’s funny how music can make a place feel like home.

As you sorted through the albums, you heard footsteps approaching outside your door. Glancing up, you caught sight of Geto passing by in the hallway.

He didn't say anything, just walked by casually, quiet and almost ghost-like in his movements.

But then, he paused.

His gaze shifted to the CDs in your hands, and his eyes lingered on the familiar band names.

For a moment, you thought he would just keep walking after staring you down, but then he leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable as usual. “You listen to Deftones?” His voice was calm, but there was a hint of curiosity in it.

You looked up, a little surprised he was even speaking to you about anything other than apartment logistics.

“Yeah,” you reply, holding up Koi no Yokan. “This is my favorite album.”

He nodded, and for the first time, you spotted an expression of interest flickering across his face. “Good choice.”

His eyes scanned the other CDs. “System of a Down, too. You’re into heavier stuff.”

You shrugged, smiling a little. “Guess you could say that. I grew up on it.”

Geto stayed quiet for a moment, like he was considering something.

Then, almost casually, he adds, “I play bass.”

It was a simple statement, but the way he said it made it feel like it mattered the world, like he was letting you in on a small part of himself. “Used to play in a few bands before. Nothing serious.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued now. “What kind of music?”

“Mostly metal, alternative,” he replied, his voice still low but a little less distant. “We covered a lot of Deftones back then.”

His eyes met yours for a brief moment before they drifted back to the pile of CDs, almost like he was inspecting your music taste. “Their bass lines are good. Heavy, but they know when to shift into something calmer.”

You nodded, leaning back on your hands, feeling more at ease as the conversation went on. “Yeah, they’re one of those bands that really know how to blend that heaviness with something more melodic.”

He watched you carefully, as if weighing your words. “You get it.”

It was a quiet compliment, but you caught it.

He shifted his weight slightly, still leaning against the doorframe, but his posture was more relaxed now, less guarded.

“You play?” he asked, the curiosity now more apparent in his tone.

“Nah,” you shook your head. “I wish. I just listen. Music’s always been kind of an escape for me.”

He nodded slowly, like it was something he could relate to but didn’t want to admit outright. “Same.”

There was a long pause, but once again, it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Just two people sharing a moment.

He glanced back at the CDs. “I’ve got some records you might like... if you ever want to listen. Just let me know.”

It was a simple offer, but coming from him, it felt like a door opening, just a crack.

The distant, almost cold guy you met the day before was still there, but there was something more now.

Something curious, maybe even intriguing.

“Thanks,” you said, your smile soft but genuine. “I might take you up on that offer.”

He nodded again, pushing off the doorframe.

His usual quiet demeanor returned, but he didn’t feel distant anymore. “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” he said, his tone a bit softer than before, and then he turned, disappearing down the hall as silently as he came.

You sat there for a while after he left, thinking about the brief conversation.

It wasn’t much, but it was more than you expected from him.

But it felt like the start of something.

Later that evening, the apartment was still quiet, with only the sound of simmering food in the kitchen to break the silence.

You stood at the stove, stirring a pot of pasta, your thoughts drifting back to the conversation with Geto earlier.

There was something about the way he opened up, even if only slightly, that stuck with you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to leave an impression.

You looked over at the other pan on the stove, where you’d been sautéing vegetables, purposefully making more than you usually would.

You had decided to cook extra tonight, partly as a gesture of thanks, partly out of curiosity to see if he’d accept.

You didn’t know much about him yet, but you figured he didn't often share meals with others.

As you finished plating the food, you walked to his door and knocked softly.

A few seconds passed, and then Geto opened it, looking at you with mild surprise.

“Hey,” you said, holding up the extra plate. “I made too much, and thought you might want some. As a thank you, for, you know, the records offer.”

His dark eyes flickered between the plate and your face, and for a second, you thought he was going to decline.

But then his expression softened and he nodded.

“Thanks.” It was a simple word, but there was a subtle gratitude in his tone that felt more significant coming from him.

You both sat at the small kitchen table, the clinking of silverware against plates the only sound at first.

The room was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way you hadn’t expected.

A bottle of wine sat between you, something you’d opened on impulse, unsure if Geto would even drink, but hoping he might.

He took a sip of his wine, glancing at you from across the table. “I wasn’t expecting this,” he admitted quietly, his voice less distant than usual.

You smiled, pushing a piece of pasta around your plate. “Just thought it’d be nice. Plus, I wanted to hear more about your band days.”

A small, almost invisible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not much to tell. We were just a group of guys who liked heavy music and played wherever we could. Nothing special.”

“Still,” you said, leaning forward a little, “it’s something. I mean, playing Deftones covers? You must’ve been pretty good.”

He shrugged, but there was a flicker of pride in his eyes. “We weren’t bad. Mostly local gigs. You know the vibe. Late nights, bad quality equipment, sometimes a crowd of five, sometimes fifty. It was… chaotic, but it felt right back then.”

You poured another glass of wine and offered to fill his back up.

He nodded, pushing his glass toward you, and the conversation started to flow a little easier with each sip.

“I used to go to shows like that,” you told him, remembering the thrill of small, intimate venues packed with people who loved the same music. “There’s something about those kinds of performances. They’re raw, you know?”

Geto’s gaze shifted toward you, and for the first time, you noticed a spark of enthusiasm behind his calm exterior. “That’s what I liked about it. You’re not playing for money or fame. You’re playing for the energy, for the people who are there because they actually care about your music.”

You nodded, completely in agreement with what he was saying. “Exactly. That connection, even with just a few people in the crowd… it’s powerful.”

He was silent for a moment, sipping his wine and staring down at his plate, then looked up at you. “It’s rare to find someone who gets that.”

You could tell there was a deeper meaning behind his words.

Maybe it wasn’t just about the music.

Maybe it was about people in general, about how rare it was for him to connect with someone in that way.

The rest of the dinner passed in a comfortable flow, the two of you talking about music, favorite bands, and even a few old concert stories.

His quiet, guarded demeanor loosened just a little, and though he still wasn’t the most talkative person, he was fully immersed in the conversation, listening to you, and offering glimpses into his own experiences.

By the time the meal was over, the wine bottle sat empty, and the apartment felt warmer, cozier.

Geto leaned back in his chair, glancing at the clock. “I should cook for you next time,” he said, his tone soft but genuine.

You laughed lightly, the suggestion catching you off guard. “I won’t forget that.”

He let out a faint smile, the kind you could almost miss if you weren’t looking for it.

As you cleared the dishes, you felt like something between you had shifted.

Just a little.

But enough to make the apartment feel less like a temporary place to crash and more like the beginning of something.

As you gathered the plates and set them in the sink, the atmosphere in the apartment felt different.

The low lighting casted a soft, hazy glow over the room, and there was an unspoken shift in the air between you and Geto.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye as you finished rinsing the dishes.

He was still sitting at the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his empty wine glass, his expression calm but his gaze thoughtful, like he was lingering on something unsaid.

You wiped your hands on a towel and turned to face him, leaning against the counter, your mind buzzing a little from the wine.

He met your eyes for a moment, and you could feel it.

It was subtle, but you could sense a tension that wasn’t there before, like the wine had dissolved the barrier between you.

His usual cold distance felt thinner, like you had broken through just enough to see the person underneath.

“You sure you don’t want another drink?” you asked, a playful tone in your voice, even though you both knew the wine had already done its job.

Geto smirked faintly, something you hadn’t seen him do yet. “I think we’ve had enough,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You crossed your arms and leaned back against the counter, watching him, feeling the space between you shrink even though neither of you had moved.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged now, thick with something unspoken.

The conversation about music faded into the background, replaced by the quiet awareness between you.

“You’re different,” he said suddenly, catching you off guard.

His eyes were on you, steady and intense, like he was seeing you in a new light.

You blinked, the words sinking in. “Different how?”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze not leaving yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, and there was something almost vulnerable in the way he said it. “You just... don’t seem like most people.”

You could feel your heart race a little, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you.

You swallowed, trying to keep your tone light, even though the tension was palpable now. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened a little. “It is.”

For a moment, you both just looked at each other, and the quiet between you stretched into something electric.

The room felt smaller, more intimate, the wine having stripped away some of the walls that had been there before.

You could see it in the way he was watching you.

You moved closer to the table, taking a seat across from him again, and neither of you spoke.

The silence between you stretched on, but it was no longer awkward.

It was heavy, like you were both waiting for the next move, unsure of where that subtle tension might lead.

Geto leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering to yours, and there was a beat of hesitation before he finally said, “I don’t usually do this.”

You tilted your head slightly, intrigued. “Do what?”

He looked at you, and for the first time since you’ve met, there was a speck of hesitation in his calm exterior. “Talk to people like this. It’s... different.”

The words hang between you, and you couldn’t help but feel the underlying meaning.

He didn’t let people in, not easily, and yet there you were, sitting together after sharing dinner and a bottle of wine, and somehow, you had found a way through his walls.

You felt it too, this strange pull between you.

“I don’t usually either,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “But tonight feels... different.”

He nodded, his eyes still locked on yours, and the room seemed to shrink even more, the tension almost touchable now.

The wine had left you bolder than usual, and the quiet weight of his gaze sent a flutter of nerves through you.

You shifted slightly in your seat, your heart beating faster, feeling the unspoken tension between you both building, moment by moment.

You stood up, breaking the heavy silence, and walked over to the sink, ready to tackle the dishes.

The warm water ran over your hands, and you tried to focus on the task at hand, but the tension from the dinner lingered in the air, thick and palpable.

You could feel Geto’s gaze on you as you scrubbed the plates, the silence stretching between you, charged with an energy that was almost electric.

After a few moments, you glanced back at him, catching him watching you with that same intensity.

His expression was contemplative, and you wondered what was going through his mind.

There was a softness in his eyes now, something that felt both inviting and intimidating.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, breaking the silence.

You smiled a little, glancing down at the soapy water. “It’s no problem. I don’t mind.”

The sound of the dishes clinking together filled the silence, but it only increased your awareness of him being there, just watching you…

Geto pushed himself off the table and took a few steps closer, and you could feel the air change as he moved into your space. “Still,” he insisted, a hint of warmth creeping into his tone. “You don’t have to.”

His proximity sent a rush of adrenaline through you, and you found yourself pausing, the dish in your hand forgotten as you looked up at him.

There was something in his expression, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, and it pulled you in.

“Maybe I want to,” you replied, your voice soft.

You returned his gaze, feeling a connection building, something beyond the music, beyond the shared dinner.

He stepped closer, leaning against the counter beside you. “Why do you want to?” His question was sincere, and there was a hint of vulnerability in it that made your heart race.

You took a breath, trying to find the right words. “Because it feels good to connect with someone,” you admitted, the honesty surprising you. “And I guess I’m just… curious about you.”

The tension in the room thickened, the air heavy with unsaid words.

He watched you, his dark eyes searching yours, and you felt the world around you fade away.

It’s just the two of you, standing there in the dim light of the kitchen.

You moved closer, the distance between you shrinking as you continued to hold his gaze. “What about you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you curious about?”

Geto’s breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

It felt like the room was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Finally, he leaned in a fraction closer, his eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “You.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you.

The air crackled with tension as he closed the gap, his presence wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

And then, in a sudden rush, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss was soft at first, slow, as if he was testing the waters.

Your heart raced as you responded, leaning into him, deepening the kiss as the warmth of his body drew you closer.

It was electric, igniting something deep within you, and you felt a surge of emotions as you wrapped your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the moment.

He responded equally, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he was finally allowing himself to let go.

The world outside faded away, the kitchen lights dimming into the background as you both explored this new connection.

It felt like the walls between you had crumbled, leaving nothing but that perfect moment making time stop.

The kiss deepened as you pressed yourself closer to Geto, the warmth of his body melding with yours.

His hands slid up your back, pulling you into him with a gentle but firm hold.

The intensity of the moment made your heart race faster, the quiet hum of the kitchen and the soft splashing of the water fading into the distance.

You were fully aware of every sensation.

The way his lips moved against yours, the slight stubble of his jaw grazing your skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

Geto’s fingers trailed up your neck, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss.

His touch was careful but insistent, a mix of tenderness and need.

You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring the contours of his shoulders, your fingers tangling in his long black hair.

He broke the kiss briefly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes.

You could spot a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, and you could see the uncertainty mixing up with the intensity.

He leaned in again, and this time the kiss was even more passionate.

The pressure of his lips against yours was a sweet, intoxicating sensation, and you completely lost yourself in the moment,

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheek.

Your hands slid up his arms, feeling the strength in his muscles as you pulled him closer.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your faces flushed and eyes bright with shared intensity.

You could see the emotions swirling in his eyes.

A combination of relief and surprise.

Geto’s hands remained on your face, his thumbs gently stroking your skin as he looked at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I didn’t expect this,” he admitted, his voice soft.

You returned his smile, your own eyes reflecting the same mixture of feelings. “Neither did I,” you said, your voice warm with the lingering glow of the kiss. “But I’m not mad it happened.”

He nodded, the smile lingering on his lips as he leaned in for one more gentle kiss, this time a sweet, lingering peck that sealed the moment.

When he pulled back, his expression was more open, more relaxed.

The kitchen felt even cozier now, the tension replaced with a newfound closeness.

You both stood there for a while, savoring the intimacy of the moment, letting the connection settle between you.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and genuine.

It’s a sound that makes you feel more at ease, more connected. “I don’t usually let people in,” he admitted, his voice still quiet but with a hint of warmth. “But you... you’ve managed to do that.”

You looked at him, the intensity of the moment softening into something more comfortable. “It wasn’t intentional,” you said with a gentle laugh. “I just wanted to share a meal and get to know you better. Didn’t expect it to turn into this.”

“Well,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours, “I guess this is a good start.”

You chuckled, “Yeah,” you agreed. “A really good start.”

You finished up the dishes together, the previous tension now replaced with a comfortable closeness.

As you worked, you found yourselves slipping into easy conversation, discussing everything from favorite bands to future plans, your earlier kiss hanging in the air like a promise of more to come.

When the kitchen was finally clean, you both moved to the living room, where the soft light of a lamp casted a cozy glow over the space.

You sat together on the couch, the casual intimacy of the moment allowing you both to relax and enjoy each other’s company.

Geto poured another glass of wine for both of you, and you settled in, your legs touching as you sat close.

The conversation flowed naturally.

As the evening drew on, you both felt the warmth of the connection you had begun to build, and you realized that, despite the surprises and uncertainties, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[ellecdc]

Rosier Twin Microfic

CW: untrue anatomy and physiology of earth worms, cruelty to earth worms, the general oddities that are the Rosier twins

Evan was exploring the grounds of the manor in search of his sister under the direction of their mother.

He found he didn’t mind all that much; the green of the trees and grass, the blue of the sky, and the pinks and reds of the flowers in the garden were all a welcome reprieve from the sad, dull grey and beige that ‘decorated’ the inside of their familial home.

That is, he hadn’t minded until he found himself sinking up to nearly his knees in loose soil as Pandora materialized from behind some shrubs.

“Evan! What have you done?” She chastised, not looking at her brother but rather where the bottom half of his legs had disappeared.

“What have I done?” Evan shot back incredulously. “What the hells is this?”

Pandora simply let out a displeased huff as she dropped her gardening spade and moved to help pull her brother out of the earth.

“You’re standing on my worms.” She admonished as he finally stepped onto solid ground, sure enough brushing loose soil and earth worms from his professionally tailored trousers and dragon-hide boots.

“What in Salazar’s name are you doing with a colony of earth worms?” He all but sneered at his sister who barely spared him a glance, though her face read ‘I can’t believe you asked such a ridiculous question’.

“The worms are good for the soil.” Pandora responded simply. “After the trouble the Honking Daffodils had with the gnome infestation, I figured they could use all the help they could get.”

Evan turned to survey the space; the worms did seem to be attempting to make their way towards the vegetation, though he really thought they’d be more effective coming from both sides of the plant.

“You ought to put some to the right of the plants, too, Panda.”

“I could only find fifty on the grounds, I don’t want to separate them from their family members.”

Evan fought the urge to roll his eyes as he bent down and dug a worm from the loose soil. “You know that you can cut them in half, right? Then you’d have twice as many and can establish colonies on either side.”

The expression on Pandora’s face told Evan she was warring with the side of her that hated the idea of chopping up living beings and the side of her that valued experimentation.

With one look in her brothers direction, Evan knew the decision she’d come to in her mind.

“I…don’t think I can cut the worms, Ev.”

So, that’s how both Evan and Pandora found themselves being scolded by their mother for being late for dinner (and rather filthy) as Evan spent the rest of the late afternoon cutting up earth worms for his twin sister.

[yan-lorkai]

Since I checked that suggestive fic are fine could you write one for Jamil where reader has been pining for him for a long time but he is hesitant since he has Kalim to take care off and can't slack off or smth

Ignore if you want :) and sorry if I overlooked a rule!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I've made you wait quite a bit, darling, but I finally finished writing this ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾. Though I let it end in a happy ending, originally it was going to end in a more bittersweet way. Either way, I hope you like it!

You had always known there was something about Jamil that captivated you, pulling you in with each passing day. He was more than just the stoic and responsible figure that stood in Kalim’s shadow. He was hardworking, kind and always reliable, traits that only made your heart ache with longing. For so long, you kept your feelings hidden, knowing he carried more responsibility than anyone should, but tonight, something in you snapped.

You watched Jamil move through the courtyard, his shoulders slightly hunched from the weight of the day. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to tell him how you felt, even if you knew there was a risk he might push you away. He needed to know that there was he could lean on.

"Jamil," you called out softly, your voice barely carrying across the courtyard. His steps slowed, and he turned toward you, his usual unreadable expression in place.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes filled with that quiet exhaustion you had come to recognize.

You swallowed, nerves threatening to choke your words. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Jamil raised a brow, stepping closer. “I’m listening.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gathered your courage. “I, uh… Well, Jamil, I like you. A lot. I know you’re always busy, taking care of Kalim, and I know how hard you work, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way. I've been holding onto those feelings for a very long time.”

For a moment, there was silence. Jamil blinked, visibly taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to hesitate, his brows furrowing in deep thought.

You pressed on, feeling your chest tighten. “I just wanted you to know. I know you have a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to be a burden, but I had to tell you how I feel.”

Jamil exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he watched you. He looked like he wanted to say something, but again, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to pull him back.

“It’s not that I don’t…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t afford to get distracted right now. Kalim needs me. I can’t let my guard down, even if it’s for something — someone — I care about.”

Your breath hitched at his words but before you could respond, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

“Oh, come on, Jamil!” Kalim’s voice rang out from behind the nearby fountain, startling both of you. He stepped out from behind the marble structure with a wide grin, looking between you and Jamil like this was the best thing he’d ever witnessed. “I knew you liked them too! You don’t have to worry about me so much!”

Jamil’s eyes widened in shock, a flush creeping up his neck. “Kalim — what are you — how long have you been listening?”

Kalim waved off Jamil’s question with a laugh, completely unbothered. “Long enough! I wasn’t spying, I promise, but I heard some of what you said. Jamil, you work so hard, but you’re allowed to be happy too! I can take care of myself sometimes, you know.” He grinned, glancing at you. “And besides, I think they’d make you really happy, they always looked at you with such adoring eyes!”

Your heart fluttered, unsure of what to say. Kalim, in his usual cheerful way, had just dismantled all the walls Jamil had carefully built around himself.

“Kalim, it’s not that simple,” Jamil muttered, still looking flustered.

Kalim crossed his arms, his grin never fading. “It is that simple! You deserve to have someone who cares about you. I’ll be fine! And, you know, I kinda already figured you liked them.”

Jamil looked down, clearly battling with himself, but Kalim’s words seemed to have chipped away at his resolve. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and… something else.

After a long pause, Jamil let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I do like you. More than I’ve wanted to admit,” He finally said, his voice soft but sincere. “But I’ve always been worried that if I let myself have something for me, it’ll somehow mess everything up.”

You stepped closer, your heart swelling with hope. “You won’t mess anything up, Jamil. You deserve to have something for yourself, too. I’m not asking you to change anything — I just want to be there for you, like you’re always there for everyone else.”

Jamil looked at you for a long moment, and finally, his tense posture relaxed. He exhaled deeply, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe… you’re right.”

Kalim clapped his hands, clearly thrilled with the way things were unfolding. “See? This is great! I’ll be fine, Jamil. You two go ahead and be happy together!”

Jamil shot him a look, but there was no real bite behind it. Instead, he turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening in a way you’d never seen before. “I can’t promise I’ll always get it right,” he murmured, his hand reaching for yours. “But I’ll try. If you’re willing to put up with that.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth as you took his hand. “I’m more than willing.”

As you stood there, hand in hand with Jamil, Kalim grinning like he had just orchestrated the happiest ending possible, you couldn’t help but feel that, maybe, everything had finally fallen into place.

[raccoonsface]

“My Baby.”

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A little fluff for Jenna’s B-Day. SHES SO OLD. I swear last week she was just 20.

*Please don’t mind my terrible sleep deprived writing*

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Jenna’s POV

I’m so tired. I’ve been working all day and haven’t been able to see Y/n… I miss her so much, my birthdays tomorrow so I have the day off

I just wanna spend my birthday relaxing to be honest with myself. I wanna be in bed with Y/n and cuddle till the days over, maybe do something else…

Either way I’m way too tired for all of this and I still have to take a shower before I even step foot into my bedroom. I’m all dirty from filming today.

Wednesday Season two is harder than the first time around. Even though I know mostly everyone and I know how to act, it’s a little hard to help write the show while acting it all out.

Ugh I’ll have to think about it all some other time tonight and tomorrow I relax with Y/n..

Y/ns POV

Jenna’s coming home in about five minutes and I wanted to get a bath set up for her so I set up a bath with some roses and red wine with glasses.

I want Jenna to relax and to let go for tonight, her birthdays in about two hours and I don’t wanna have her be all grumpy when her phones being blown up from it.

———————————————————————

You were setting down the last of the candles in the bathroom for Jenna’s bath when you heard the lock twist.

You walked out of the bathroom to find a tired Jenna walking into the apartment slowly, dragging her feet across the floor. She immediately took off her heels when she closed the door, and locked it.

She then proceeded to walk over to you without a word and hug you tiredly.

“Hi, baby.. you tired?” You say quietly, and she softly nods to answer your question, you can feel her start to relax in your embrace

“I drew a bath for you,” You whisper as you massage her shoulders and kiss her temples. “Okay,” she mumbled into you’re chest before backing up with her eyes closed slightly

“Can you come in with me?” She asked taking off her jacket and throwing it over the couch, “Yeah, of course I can,” you responded softly walking to the bathroom with her, watching her tiredly move.

You make it to the bathroom and watch as her face lights up slightly at the sight of the bathtub filled with bubbles and roses.

“You picked my favorite wine..?” She says slightly surprised and slightly questioning you’re decision, not in a bad way though “uh yeah I thought you should relax before your birthday,” you respond

“Thank you baby.. this is really nice of you,” she says in awe admiring the work you’ve done “anything for you Jenna,” you say looking at her lovingly, admiring her

She looks at you once before turning away and undressing, you then turn and do the same, when you’re both done you both step into the bath.

Jenna lays on top of you while you’re just laying back, you grab the wine and give Jenna a glass before pouring it into your guys’ glasses

You both take a couple of sips before you set them down. You caress Jenna’s arm to help relax her, she leans her head back and closes her eyes in response.

“Thank you for this Y/n, it means a lot to me,” she says opening her eyes, looking up at you lovingly. You smile down at her, “you’re welcome honey, I don’t want you all stressed on your birthday,” she giggles at you before getting up

She gets up and grabs a towel as you get up, she then wraps the towel around both of you guys, “why’d you get up so soon?” You ask her

“I’m tired baby, I need sleep,” you look at her and then step out of the shower with her. You drain the bath and put away the wine after putting on your undergarments,

When you’re all finished you go into the bedroom to find Jenna all cuddled up in the bed, asleep

“Oh… My Baby.” You say while walking over to Jenna’s side and sitting down by her legs, you reach your hand over her face and caress it with your thumb.

You lean closer to Jenna and kiss her forehead, “I love you Jen, sweet dreams,” you say before getting u beneath the covers with her and going to sleep.

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Jeez I just had a really random writing motivation moment… well I mean here you go I guess… I love you my raccoons. Happy birthday to Jenna though, cannot believe she’s 22.

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[ohnoitsjetster]

Didn’t Herbert West technically TECHNICALLY try to baby trap Dan in Bride of Reanimator?

Thoughts?

(Im sorry this took forever to respond to. life got in the way, of my silly little words)

technically, yes. The main intention was the same. But "Baby Trap" does not even start to explain the shit Herbert pulled in Bride of Reanimator.

thoughts? you want THOUGHTS? alright how about let me break down exactly what Herbert did here:

That man stole Megan's heart from an evidence locker and stored it in his fridge. When Dan tried to leave Herbert, He offered the heart to Dan with every ounce of reverence he could deliver without getting down on one knee.

that is to say, Herbert anticipated that Dan would leave him and saw that he loved Megan. So his reaction was to steal Megan's actual physical HEART, and give it to Dan as an offering to force him to stay.

He vaguely explained that he was about to baby trap him with it, to which Dan agreed because of his blind love for Meg, and his blind love for Herbert, and because, in the words of Bruce Abbot, "no one will ever get rich overestimating Dan's bad taste."

(This could maybe be because the world of Reanimator uses weird sci-fi logic where the heart contains the person's personality or life or whatever, and it'd actually bring Meg back (even though these movies seemed pretty brain-focused thus far), in which case, pretty good manipulator leverage! nice job, Herbie! Otherwise, its either because Herbert knew Dan would like this weird creepy gesture of love, or because Herbert thought this weird creepy gesture of love was a normal and good idea, and coincidentally Dan was that same wavelength of out-of-touch freak as Herbert, because they're just meant for each other or something. That last option is my personal favorite)

So, then Herbert goes around the hospital STEALING more body parts off corpses (former patients who also presumably received some form of care and attention from Dan), trying to create Dan's perfect woman based on his shallow perception of whatever it is that straight, allosexual, relatively neurotypical men like (maybe since Herbert can't be what Dan wants romantically, he can create it for him and earn love that way (that cannot be good for His internalized transphobia)).

so then he meticulously assembles a woman like an Ikea cabinet and proceeds to give Dan the worlds most sensual elevator pitch, using... a line that he heard Dan use with his girlfriend when he was eavesdropping on them having sex. He tries to explain why this is the perfect woman for all your woman needs! Like uhhh sex, and... sex, and lawyering? maybe murder? (I guess he thinks it'd be nice to have a woman who can kill for you and defend your crimes in a court of law. That does sound useful in their situation)

Then he watched the Bride fight Francesca like some sort of underground girlfriend fighting ring, as if the larger and stronger girl would win ownership of our poor pathetic Dr Cain. Unfortunately Herbert's creation broke down to nothing when it removed its own heart to give it to Dan in the same exact gesture with which Herbert showed Dan the heart earlier.

Pure heterosexual coincidence, of course. There is absolutely nothing odd about Herbert's gift to Daniel being a grotesque amalgamation of everyone Dan loved instead of him and everything those people had to offer Dan, fueled by the pumping of Megan's heart (whom Herbert had hated and competed with), a heart both stolen and offered willingly, one both frozen and thawed, both beating and dead. There Dan stays, too close, yet too far. (am i reading into it- You Bet)

Yup. Pure coincidence. And also nothing suspicious about it being a creature created of such concentrated love, reverence, devotion, and bitter fear of rejection, that at the moment of being pushed away, it entirely self destructs because its only purpose was to love Dan and be loved by him. Its only purpose was to be perfect for Dan, to be enough for him, to be some action of Herberts blood sweat and tears that could ever be wanted by him. But of course Herbert doesn't understand Daniel - understand people - as well as he hoped too. Dan is horrified. No clearer rejection than that. If we see her as an extension of Herbert, it's obviously the last straw. Herbert truly did everything for Dan, not only was he still unlovable, but repulsive, an affront to... what have you; god, nature, some simple short-sighted ideal of what a human should be. Above that Dan could see the seams of the uncanny imitation of his past loves, and the love that laid beneath was too much for him. Too loud, too fast, too raw and bloody. So it dies. The heart is given, and thrown away.

What I'm trying to say is that shit was crazy. Herbert could have done a much more cut and dry baby trap. He could have reanimated some random kid, forcing Dan to stick around and protect it. That would have been its own special kind of fucked up and is probably a good fanfic prompt. But noooo, Herbert had to do the most psychosexual, convoluted, batshit, traumatizing, bloody, gory, and frankly unnecessary declaration of love that could be achieved by one little scientist with nothing to his name but a little green potion and every mental illness. I for one think it was a fantastic idea.

No tldr, ur just gonna have to match my freak on this one. Hope my mad ramblings made some sense. Peace and love

[londondungeon2]

Im going visceral /pos

What are your thoughts on Floyd? Any kind

But if that's too vague, maybe what kinds of dynamics do you like writing with Floyd? (ex. visceral/toxic yaoi, tall/short, tall/tall, "i can make him worse", "i can fix him", etc)

any kind of thoughts work, tho! ex. I think he'd be killer at jazz (I'm thinking jazz drums, because it's the most "feel" out of all of them, and is the most "rhythm" out of all of them, too)

No need to respond if you don't feel like it, as always!! Have a great day, either way!!!

hi hi icarus!! was so excited to see you in my inbox!! hello!!

any time i want to think floyd thoughts 💭 i just listen to ‘the pillows’; a lot of their songs put me into the headspace i envision when writing floyd!

i’m going to ramble under the cut because i got carried away (it’s even got a table of contents)!!

because of the cake event, i’ve got a couple of requests for floyd … more so than jade which is fine, i’m fine (ʘдʘ╬) …. & i’ve been thinking of a concept of floyd as living armor! i won’t be able to write it because the two medieval AU requests are fluff and the concept is anything but fluffy (well, it is sweet and cute to me but my vision is warped)!

just a preface: whenever i solidify an AU in mind, i always divide into what are both jade and floyd doing. i like narrative foils.

— it’d be fun to get around to what jade is getting up to via mafia AU one day ….

medieval concept:

floyd and jade are both knights in this AU. floyd’s path is actually much sweeter than jade’s, despite how horrific it is.

as young knights, appointed to the front lines, floyd and jade were an invincible force. they slip through the grim reaper’s claws like water, finding themselves persevering no matter what. the grim reaper only catches up to one of them when he stumbles upon a suit of armor left in the ruin of a kingdom they just bested.

floyd is entranced. the material is studier than his own; it is exactly his shape and build; and the visor, shining the brightest silver, is shaped like a set of fangs enclosed. it is the finest piece of blacksmithing and forge work he has ever laid his eyes on — and jade, wiping red rain off his face and content with his kills, does not fight floyd when he declares he will take it for himself.

it is a descent into madness plot.

the more floyd wears the armor, the less he wants to take it off. he is starting to see twisted shadows out the castle’s windows. it only gets to the point of no return when he tries to remove one of the gauntlet and his skin peels off with the removal.

after that, floyd swears to never put it back on, resolute in his decision, as his brother smashes their room apart in a terrible rage over his arranged engagement to the king’s daughter.

however, he does put it back on. it keeps shining in kaleidoscope stars and beckoning him with honeyed whispers.

when he puts back on the helmet, it is last time he sees the sun with his own eyes.

the kingdom goes to ruin. jade has killed the royal family. there is nothing left for floyd, because try as he might, the suit of armor will not come off. he tries to push his own sword through the helmet and shoulder-plate, only to hit his neck and realize it is metal rather than flesh.

floyd rots at the bottom of the castle. alone for a decade. until one day, a scavenger from a neighboring building comes and raids whatever is left from the castle’s innards.

one last time, floyd decides he will serve his dead king one last time and kill this scavenger, hungry and desperate you. it is a wild chase around the hallways, him at 6’2”, face full of carnivore teeth, swinging a claymore that is intent on cutting you clean in half. he has you cowering in a corner, about to add another body to the ghosts that float in his ruined kingdom, his ruined home, only to stop when a loud yip ripples your tattered coat.

you have a puppy. a puppy you were trying to feed with the leftovers.

it is not bigger than a kitten and yet it barks at floyd like it is the size of the bear.

floyd’s sword slowly drops.

it is an unsteady friendship from then on. he still dislikes you roaming around in the castle; you are still afraid of this man in the armor. but, eventually, you do come to a truce.

floyd finds himself becoming more endeared to your company. you bring a light back into the court that has been extinguished by his own brother.

and for the first time in a decade, floyd gets to feel the sun on his armor (his skin will never be the same) as you slowly take his clawed, metal hand and bring him out the catacomb of his home.

“can i finally see your face?” you will ask him one day.

and silent, he will shake his head. no.

that’s okay. the company of each other is enough for the both of you.

tall/tall dynamic:

i really really enjoy the dynamic of tall/tall for floyd!!

like absolutely adore it with my whole heart!!! 🖤they’re slowly morphing into the height and relationship dynamic of okuyusau and josuke for me!!!

picture for reference, mc and floyd are almost always the same height in my head.

i always have chess piece ocs in mind when writing /readers. its subtle but in narc, mc is the same size for shirts as floyd and is around the same height too. there is no part of standing on their tippy-toes for kisses & the eye contact is on equal footing.

i’m workshopping the scene where mc and azul meet in arnolfini portrait again & have to slap myself on the wrist every time i write ‘you glared down at azul’ or any variation of azul moving his neck to look up at mc.

idkw i feel so strongly about tall/tall dynamic with floyd. but i ADORE floyd with a tall shrimpy!!!

drummer! floyd:

from what i’ve seen from reading canon information on floyd, he did in fact play drums in a jazz band w/ azul and jade during middle school!! which i took to incorporating in ‘got you (where i want you)’ bc it’s largely a oneshot revolving around pop music club:

i want to explore a bit of the difference between how kalim plays drums and how floyd plays drum in it. it is going to be a big piece, about three chapters!

i only play piano and drums so we’ll see how i can handle talking about guitars (but like every single guy involved in my life plays guitar — brothers, bf, friends, co workers — so i got people to ask about it)

also was going to have floyd keep knives in his drum sticks during narc but scrapped it.

cake event:

the lineup for floyd that will come out nov 5 is:

royalty AU — jester x princess smut

NRC — viscera part 2 smut, 69 position

Arranged Marriage AU — hurt/comfort (FINALLY some angst from my request list б（＞ε＜ ）∂!!!)

royalty AU — mutual pining (no plot outlined yet but i’ll figure out a dynamic)

time loop AU — requester was very specific so the outline is already there!

arnolfini portrait:

HERE, is a snippet from that long Floyd work I’m going to release next year, some fluff (i think idk fluff) in a pool of angst;

Jade looks down at the both of you, a moue on his face. “I told you to watch him; not join him.”

Bleary, tear-soaked eyes blink seven times before you finally can fix all the puzzle pieces of Jade’s visage clearly in your vision. Above you, he stands, tutting in disappointment with a single teacup in hand. Steam curls out of the ceramic, reminding you of the absolute flaming heat on your cheeks. In response to his serene anger, you mumble, “Hmmm what?” into the pillowcase.

“Really, what am I going to do with the two of you?” Jade sets the teacup on Floyd’s desk.

“Leave us alone,” Floyd grumbles, nasally and exhausted. He takes to rub his forehead in your neck, impossibly hot as well.

See, Jade told you to watch over his brother for the afternoon. It is the weekend; you had no classes so you sought Floyd’s company. Said company happens to be suffering from a high fever he developed Friday night. Fretful, Jade told you he would return during his break at Mostro Lounge with tea for Floyd. Which must be now; not that you are keeping track of time. With little convincing, you fell in bed with Floyd due to his clogged and snotty siren call, snuggling up into the tempting warmth and accepting his infectious kisses.

Now contaminated, you wake up from your nap to face off the enemy of Jade’s frowning discontentment. Your attack move is to shimmy yourself down until the comforter is up to your chin. Floyd’s arms wrap around you tighter, thinking you are trying to leave. You cast the verbal spell of, “Yeah, what he said.” and close your eyes to get more sleep.

A subtle, amused laugh is Jade’s counterspell. “I hope you two will accept the responsibility of holding each other’s hair back when this virus wants to make its exit.”

Cheek to cheek, Floyd mumbles back, “Of course, I’d do anythin’ for (Name).”

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifts. The fluidity of your limbs that were melting into the cuddle hardens into stone. Even Jade seems to stand a bit straighter despite his already perfect posture. Slowly, you pull your upper body out of the hug, bleary eyes wide as saucers.

“Did you just –?”

It is hard to tell: is the blush on Floyd’s face from his ridiculously high fever or is it because of his embarrassment? He looks at you like you are the one who has grown two heads. He has no reason to be looking so shocked when you are one who has whiplash!

“I – um –”

“Oh my God, you just did!” The fact of the matter – Floyd using your real name – has put your world on such an axis that you worry Floyd is going to have to hold your hair back like Jade suggested; you are about ready to throw up from nerves. Nerves exit your mouth through laughter instead. “Oh my God! Hahaha! You – hahaha!”

“Shrimpyyy,” Floyd whines before erupting into a coughing fit.

“It’s cute! I promise, it’s super cute! Hahaha!”

Floyd, who hates being called cute, fixes you with a glare that is lackluster due to the sweat glistening on his forehead and the chagrin that has sunburnt itself on his skin. He pulls his hand off your stomach and pinches your nose. You let out a honking laugh that is more geese than human.

anyways,,, always holding floyd like this. i do enjoy his character (but never more than his brother)!!!!

[lvrgirlrey]

Can you make a Ranpo x reader where Ranpo thought that you were dating him(he never said anything about it too) and one day he kisses your cheek thinking it was a normal thing to do since them both are in a "relationship"

Thank you!!

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: hello! this is so cute of course i can do it for you *v* thank you for requesting!

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: none this is purely fluff

it was a usual day at the armed detective agency, filled with the usual noise of bustling keyboards, phone calls, and the quiet mutterings of people hard at work. you sat at your desk, deeply engrossed in some case notes, oblivious to the figure quietly munching on snacks from across the room. ranpo edogawa was sprawled lazily on a chair, his usual candy stick in hand, eyes half-lidded but never missing a detail.

you and ranpo had become close over the last few months, working cases together, sharing snacks, and engaging in idle conversations. despite his carefree, sometimes childlike demeanor, ranpo always seemed to gravitate toward you. it was sweet, in a way. you admired him for his brilliance, though his eccentricity and arrogance sometimes made him hard to understand.

recently, though, things had begun to change. ranpo’s attention toward you had become more intense—subtle but noticeable. he would stand just a little too close when talking, sometimes brush his hand against yours when passing you something, or give you one of his sweet, playful smiles that left your stomach doing somersaults. but since ranpo was, well, ranpo, you chalked it up to him just being his quirky self. nothing more. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

you’d never considered the possibility of anything romantic between the two of you, though your heart couldn’t help but flutter every time he was near. still, you were too caught up in your work, too focused on your role in the agency to give those feelings much attention.

until today.

it was mid-afternoon, and the agency office was quieter than usual. the team had split off for various tasks, leaving you and ranpo alone. you were scribbling notes, trying to piece together the details of a complex case, when you felt ranpo’s familiar presence standing behind you.

without glancing up, you smiled, assuming he was there to ask about the case. “hey, ranpo. need something?”

he didn’t respond right away. instead, you felt him lean closer, the scent of sweet candy on his breath mingling with the air. then, before you could fully process what was happening, you felt the soft press of his lips against your cheek.

the kiss was brief but gentle, so casual that it took you a second to react. your mind struggled to keep up with what had just happened. heat instantly flooded your face as your heart raced. you whipped your head around, wide-eyed, to meet ranpo’s easygoing expression.

“what—what was that?” you stammered, unsure if you had somehow imagined the whole thing. ranpo blinked at you, completely unbothered, as if kissing you on the cheek was the most natural thing in the world. he tilted his head, popping another candy into his mouth, then smiled in that mischievous way he always did when he thought he was two steps ahead of everyone.

“what do you mean?” he asked, as though *you* were the one acting strange. “i just kissed my partner. it’s normal, isn’t it?”

you blinked, trying to wrap your head around his words. partner?

“ranpo…” you began slowly, “what are you talking about? we’re… we’re not dating.”

his expression didn’t change at all. if anything, he looked more confused. “what do you mean we’re not? we’ve been together for a while now, haven’t we?”

you opened your mouth to respond but no words came out. what on earth was he talking about? sure, you’d spent a lot of time together, and you were close—really close—but at no point had either of you actually said anything about being in a relationship. you felt a mix of confusion and disbelief wash over you.

“ranpo, we’ve never… i mean, you never asked me out or anything,” you finally managed to say. he waved his hand dismissively, as if the technicalities were trivial. “i didn’t think i needed to. we’ve been together all this time. i figured you knew. i mean, i’ve held your hand before, i let you eat my snacks. that’s pretty obvious, right?”

your brain struggled to keep up with ranpo’s logic. his nonchalant attitude only made your own flustered state worse. you tried to calm your racing heart as you replayed the last few months in your head. yes, he had been more affectionate lately. yes, there had been a few moments that made your heart skip. but none of that meant you were dating. or did it?

you stared at him, completely bewildered. “ranpo… you can’t just assume we’re dating without telling me.”

he gave a small shrug, utterly unfazed by the revelation. “why not? i thought it was obvious. we spend all our time together, and we’re close. i thought you liked me.”

you blinked again, this time trying to process his words. you thought i liked you? was he serious? he was incredibly smart, perceptive beyond belief, and yet completely clueless when it came to matters of the heart.

“i do like you,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. “but that doesn’t mean we’re automatically in a relationship. you have to, you know, ask.”

ranpo’s eyes lit up, a small smile playing on his lips. “so you do like me, huh? well, that’s great! then let’s make it official.”

you stared at him, mouth agape. this wasn’t how you imagined confessing your feelings, but here you were. caught off guard and flustered, you felt your face grow even hotter.

“ranpo, that’s not… i mean… wait, are you serious right now?” he nodded, entirely too casual for the conversation you were having. “of course i’m serious. i already thought we were dating, but now we can make it official. problem solved!”

you were at a complete loss for words. how could someone so brilliant in solving the world’s toughest cases be so dense when it came to relationships? still, you couldn’t help but smile, despite your confusion and embarrassment.

“you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. ranpo leaned in, his grin widening. “but you still like me, right?”

you couldn’t deny it, no matter how flustered you felt. despite his eccentricities, his arrogance, and his occasional cluelessness, you had fallen for him. somewhere along the way, in between sharing snacks and solving cases, you’d developed real feelings for ranpo edogawa.

with a sigh, you gave in. “yeah, i do.” his face lit up, triumphant. without hesitation, he leaned forward again, pressing a quick kiss to your other cheek. “good. then it’s settled. we’re officially dating now. no more misunderstandings.”

you laughed, a mix of exasperation and affection filling your chest. leave it to ranpo to turn something as complicated as confessing feelings into a matter-of-fact conclusion.

as you sat there, cheeks still warm from his kisses, you realized that maybe this was how it was meant to be. nothing about ranpo was typical, so why would your relationship be any different?

“fine,” you said, shaking your head with a smile. “but next time, *ask* before kissing me.”

he gave you a playful wink. “no promises.”

again, thank you for requesting and thank you for reading! you guys are so sweet :,>

[hazel2468]

"UWU op defends Israel UWU"-

Have I not made it clear enough what I think of the Israeli government? Have I not made it clear enough that what infuriates me the MOST about all of this shit going on is that neither government gives a damn and civilians will CONTINUE to die because Hamas and Netanyahu are cranking that war machine for their own benefit? Have I not made it clear that I think what the Israeli government is doing is fucking horrific, a war crime, murder, a violation of human rights?

Why do I even need to MAKE that clear? Why is it that you can talk about LITERALLY anything else, any other country, and people don't rush to fucking accuse you of personally supporting the government when you discuss the wrongs committed against a people, but the SECOND you're a Jew you have to justify your stance about Israel?

Why is it that I cannot even be angry about the slaughter of MY FUCKING PEOPLE. Innocents. Civilians. Fucking CHILDREN. The slaughter of the Palestinian people. Innocents. Civilians. FUCKING CHILDREN.

Without one of you absolute fucking monsters deciding to slap some shit on an unrelated post about how "uwu op defends an apartheid state just ignore that"? Do you have to make it part of EVERYTHING I do? Do you consider everything I put out there tainted somehow because I don't support your joy, your cheering, your unrestrained GLEE at the murder of Jews? Do I need to publish a fucking thesis on my stance on Israel, Palestine, and their respective governments like a fucking disclaimer any time I want to talk about myself, my oppression, my experience as a Jew, or a disabled person, or a queer person, because you fuckers cannot for five seconds be NORMAL about Jews?

To decide to slap something about Israel and Palestine on a post I made about MY oppression, about how people will oppress you no matter who you actually are- it all depends who they think you are. It's a bit ironic, isn't it? Doesn't QUITE fit, but it's funny that someone would read that post, agree with it, and then think "Ah yes, THIS is the place to put some tags about how OP, a Jew who has been reeling for the last couple of weeks about the violence, who has been checking on their Israeli friends every day to make sure they aren't fucking dead, who is dealing with vicious antisemitism from people who they thought were friends, who watched as the people claiming to be progressive supporters of human rights on this hellsite and others OVERWHELMINGLY reply to the murder of their people with good they deserved it fuck you, is CLEARLY a defender of an apartheid state and that makes them a bad person because something something I don't know what nuance tastes like and I am a bigoted ass."

I am TIRED.

[destinationtoast]

background/future relationship tagging on AO3

I've encountered two opposite critiques/requests* for AO3 tagging of background or future relationships, and I don't think a single perfect solution exists. But I'm curious to see if there are strong preferences.

Scenario (see my tags for why I'm basing this on a specific situation instead of making it more generic): I'm posting a one-shot story to AO3 that is about A/B hooking up for the first time. But also, both A & B used to date C, and A is trying to help B/C to get back together, which seems likely to lead to A/B/C.

*If you're less familiar with tagging dilemmas AO3, here are the two different issues I've seen:

When I've tagged offscreen/potential poly relationships like A/B/C as relationships, I've gotten some complaints because that those relationships weren't onscreen, which disappointed people who were actively seeking out A/B/C.

When I've tagged only A/B, people who only want A/B and were trying to filter out A/B/C were unhappy, because A/B/C is discussed a bunch onscreen.

My opinion about the best thing to do here has wavered back and forth, as both of the above raise valid points. Very curious to see what others think is the best tagging practice!

[purus-lumen]

✧˖° ✩࿐ °˖ ✧ The words hit him like a ton of bricks and it makes it clear to him now why she doesn't look at him the same way she used to. She says that he can talk to her - but can he - really? He's just as wicked as his Other is but just held in a different elemental hue.

Light can burn just as well as Darkness can bind.

Even if he does have his own qualms with his darker half, that is for them to work through. That is for them to sort. The shattered shards that form their singular bond are for them and them ALONE.

It isn't Terra or Aqua's mess to try to figure out. It isn't for Sora or Riku or Kairi or Roxas - it isn't for anyone else to stick their hands into to try to make sense of because none of them know what it's like to be living your life as a fragment of something never to be whole again.

He'll never be whole again.

What do they know?

Nothing.

Twisted ideas of what is noble and what is just. Whatever the light tells them is the correct path without ever stopping to speak to the darkness. The Darkness has emotions too. The Darkness was born of it. Why not just stop to ask? To talk? To inquire how it feels?

It was apart of ALL of them whether they liked it or not - the rest of them just were never very involuntarily gifted the ability to look theirs in the face. That small dark voice that exists inside all of us. The worries and woes that creep in the back reaches of one's mind. Darkness was apart of all of us and it would have been so much easier if they all had just learned to stand hand in hand instead of raising their keyblades and calling for war.

War between families. War between friends.

If this is how she felt then she should have just ended him like he told her to in the first place.

Then no one else would have had to suffer. Then no one else would have had to deal with his darkness if such a thing were so vile. So wicked. So tainted. So Ugly.

So the sky is burning as his gaze falls to narrow, nose wrinkling as he snarls. She wants to know who loves him?

"I DO."

[thesixthstar]

i love to be ghosted by medical doctors

[spoonyglitteraunt]

So, with Dracula coming to an end today and reading the epilogue, I finally realised what Mina and Jonathan remind me of.

Evy and Rick from the Mummy.

Same I would throw myself into hell and back for you, ride or die, complete adoration, give them the prize for most disgustingly in love couple you can think off but you can’t hate them for it because they are just so dang adorable, relationship goals™ dynamic. (not to mention ALL the queer vibes and potential polycule options) And I’m not saying we need crossover fic, buuuuuut..

Okay yeah that is what I’m saying.

And also I checked the years you could totally make a case for Quincey Harker potentially being friends and having grown up with the Carnahan siblings. And if you think about it mummies and vampires are both sort of undead creatures. So now I’m imagining Harker O'Connell team-up monster fighting adventures.

Something or other followed the O'Connells home again, because of course it did, and shows up right when the very-nice-and-completely-normal-never-saw-an-undead-creature-in-their-life-we-swear next door neighbours the Harkers are visiting. So now Evy and co are scrambling. Trying to keep the evil minions of the undead whatevers away from their childhood friend and his parents without being obvious.

Cue Ardeth is-it-Imhotep-again-or-is-he-just-chronically-unable-to not-know-whenever-the-O’Connells-have-messed-with-something-they-shouldn’t-have Bay popping in because his medjai senses were tingling. How did he get here? Who knows. He’s here and he’s queer down to kick ass. What they do know is that’s one more thing they have to try and explain away to the Harkers, while also discussing the next apocalyptical threat off to the side. And making sure her brother, her kid, and maybe Quincey’s kid, don’t get themselves in ever increasing amounts of trouble which they have a knack for. (Let’s be honest, it’s the family curse really. Rick’s blood pressure has never been the same after he met the Carnahan siblings.)

Meanwhile the Harkers are watching this pantomime go down with ever increasing baffled amusement. Knowing something is up but not what exactly. Until undead minion or minion of the undead crashes the (tea) party.

So now the undead cat is out of the bag and Evy is ready to just throw hands. Because no, you do NOT crash her tea party and break her best china and ruin whatever relationship she had with these people. Because they are nice and normal and this will be a shock to their nice and normal sensibilities. Look at them they are just the sweetest older couple who are nice and normal and never had any excitement in their entire lives, how do we possibly keep them from freaking out and keep them safe?

At which point Mina cool-under-pressure-age-only-made-her-more-competent Harker turns to her husband and goes, are you calling the boys and Van Helsing, or am I?

[theblankest123]

Quick thing, but I like to think that Mashuma and Kamonelo would be buds.

Mashuma prefers to hang out in the backwhile Kamo doesnt seem to like it that much but as the team healer, that's often where they end up. But then they start to hang out with Mash, who is quite shy and doesn't speak much but is a good listener, so Kamo can drop all their thoughts and ideas onto them :]

[vrabbiit]

btw in case it was not abundantly clear, this blog is NOT a safe space for proshippers / whatever other names they go by nowadays.

all of my content is written of consenting adult readers, with characters who are also written as adult (and are not portrayed as children in canon!!), BY an adult author. i do not endorse content that includes incest, abuse, pedophilia, bestiality or any otherwise illegal or immoral things.

i politely ask that you don’t come into my inbox to to “debate” me over this, either. i have no interest in engaging in discourse or harassment of anyone, myself or otherwise, and any comments trying to engage in a debate or argument will just be deleted.

thank you <3