#Call me donkey because--

[atlyvryx]

Diversity wins ! The dragon is romancable (in the future)

[polux-aka-hyakunana]

The tragedy of having my hands full of work until at least next week and suddenly remembering how much I love and miss Lies of P while living my Geats fever because I need stalker!Riders injected on my veins to keep living

[im-captain-basch]

This is why I mentioned having a Among Us AU for DKC. It was more for this to make only slightly more sense than it would have otherwise.

This is based off the insane ending to a round I played the other night that ultimately got me banned from that particular lobby, tho this is mostly a cut-down version of the meeting at the end.

Bit of an explanation for line colors, since I know sometimes it's hard to tell who is who in gijinka:

Blue=Cranky

Green=K. Rool (labeled as Kris in the last image)

Bluish-green=Funky

Yellow=DK

Pink (first panel/upper right hand in last panel)=Candy

Darker green=Wrinkly (picked her for first impostor solely because it made panels 4&5 funnier to me)

Lighter green=Chunky

Purple (hand)=Tiny

Darker pink (hand)=Dixie

Red (hand)=Diddy

Orange (hand)=Lanky

Why did I decide to recount this particular round using DKC characters? Because the idea was amusing.

[fierykitten2]

Just noticed a fancomic on my Pinterest recommended about Falcon and Samus fighting and I made the mistake of being interested in seeing why they were fighting. It took me briefly seeing a four-letter word beginning with r that relates to sex crimes to make me realise… I don’t need to guess what that’s about and you’ve just pissed off the entire F-Zero fandom. Thanks for offending me

[hedgehog-moss]

The tragic thing when you're at a craft market is that the woman with the warm smile who seemed like a genuinely lovely person when you stopped by her stand to make small talk, is always the one selling ugly little cups decorated with modern movie characters. Meanwhile the woman next to her who sells adorable water jugs decorated with Old-Timey Bucolic paintings of flowers and farm animals, looks like she's doing people a favour by selling them her stuff. She is not lovely or even polite but she doesn't need to be, her stand is printing money, she knows what tourists in a rural village potters' market are looking for and it's a pretty jug with a curly handle and featuring little chickens and children wearing clogs. Not a modern-looking coffee cup with a gremlin or E.T. painted on it.

You text your mum to ask if you should buy an ugly gremlin coffee cup because the vendor is really sweet and not very popular and she texts back NO. We've talked about this. So many times. Buy what you like. You really like the water jug featuring a little donkey pulling a little cart—but you've been here a while and no one has bought anything from the really kind woman, which hurts. You text your mum a photo of the gremlin cup with a sad emoji. She replies, It's hideous. (It's not that bad.) (The photo was taken from far away, she can't even see it very well. She's just trying to get you back on track.) You're about to join the queue to the Popular Stand to spend your only 20€ note on the donkey pitcher when you see a man stop in front of the nice lady's empty stand and pick up an ugly cup, which makes you happy. The man asks for the price then tells the nice lady, "It's not worth it" and puts the cup back on the shelf and walks away.

On your way home from the potters' market you call your mum and ask her if she would accept an ugly gremlin cup as a gift from you because, well, your kitchen decoration is more Old-Timey Bucolic and you don't really want this cup. Which you now have, on account of an inescapable series of events. There is a dismayed-yet-unsurprised silence in response and you say defensively "She looked happy to finally make a sale!" and your mum says, give me the ugly gremlin cup, I'm sure it's not that bad.

[chaos-deimos-et-eris]

gods it finally happen the dreaded "hi, how old are you, what your insta and can I have your phone number?"

[mariamlovesyou]

tuned into Plestia's live with Rahma Zein's second account (she got shadowbanned). key moments:

plestia talked about her adjustment to living in australia. "it's 1:30am now and it's normal for me and many palestinians who live abroad to be awake hours into the morning. i am scared of sleeping. because of the time difference, i'm scared if i sleep i will wake up to bad news. in gaza i was scared of the sound of the bombs, here i am scared of the quiet."

contacting family and friends in gaza is near impossible. "sometimes i feel like a crazy person, calling 20 times in a row hoping that on the 21st time the call might go through."

on the destruction of entire communities and neighbourhoods: "i'm scared when i go back to gaza i won't recognise it anymore. someone sent me a picture of my neighbourhood, and i couldn't tell it was mine at first. all my favourite places, cafes where the aunties used to give me extra food and ask about my day, have been destroyed. i dread looking at my gallery or seeing snapchat memories because most of these people in the pictures are no longer alive."

rahma asked plestia to talk about one story that stuck with her. plestia said "i remember walking one time on the 'safe corridor', that's what they called it anyway, and i saw an older woman clutching onto a donkey cart where her son's body was, refusing to let go of it. i asked my colleague what the smell was, he said it's dead bodies under the rubble. it was the first time i familiarised myself with the smell. the son's body was decaying and the woman told me about cats and animals eating away at it. i've had children talk to me about birds eating away at their parents' decomposing bodies and not being able to chase them away."

"it seems so silly to go to hospitals for minor sicknesses now. i can't even think about how many palestinian children are going to be terrified of hospitals now. there was a girl who was taken to the hospital to get treatment for injuries by one of the bombs, and while she was in the bathroom another bomb landed nearby. the impact from that sent the ceiling crashing down on her.. she got another injury while getting treated for her first one."

"i hate how people talk about our resilience - as if it's okay that this is happening to us. we are only surviving because we have to, because we have no other choice."

rahma brought up the way family homes are set up in palestine and asked plestia to elaborate. "basically, there are floors. someone will live on the ground floor, and then their married son lives with his children on the floor above them, and then their successors above them and so on. so when family homes are targeted, they wipe out entire families. many families officially no longer exist."

"i used to wear my journalist helmet and vest all the time, felt naked without it, even slept with the vest on sometimes until i realised it only made me more of a target. they didn't give me any protection, only headaches and back pain."

"i am an optimistic person, i loved covering sweet sentimental things, like at my graduation asking parents of top graduates how they feel about their children graduating. that's what i love reporting on. i wanted to cover things like that when i came back to gaza, show the beautiful side of gaza that the media didn't really show, but i didn't have the chance." "do you think they'll give you right of return?" "i can only hope."

plestia mentioned how hard it was being a journalist with limited access to the internet, charging facilities, no mics, lack of equipment and how difficult it was uploading things. rahma asked her what's one story that wasn't really recorded or posted due to these constraints; plestia said "the evacuations. sometimes they informed us about them, sometimes they didn't. you have no idea how hard it was, everyone looking for their family members, making sure every one was there, taking to the streets in 5 minutes and not knowing which way to go. i remember i went to my friend's house for shelter for 30 minutes before the first evacuation was announced and we ran to another family's house, stayed there for 2 days before another evacuation was announced. me, my friend, and that family all evacuated together to another family's house. there were already so many people there seeking shelter, it wasn't just one family staying there. none of us knew how long we had in any place."

before october 7th, palestinians were used to limitations on electricity. plestia used to plan her day's tasks around when the electricity was working. "for example when the electricity was on from 12 to 4, i would say i will do my laundry and charge the phones during this time. life wasn't exactly 'normal', but all of us pray to have those days back in comparison to what we are experiencing now." plestia also said that cars are running on cooking oil now because there is no fuel.

on hygiene: "many pregnant women have to give birth without any pain medication or medical attention. once we ran out of medicine, that was it. women who had to get C-sections couldn't stay to recover or get followup treatments because someone else needed the bed. we have no water, no tissues, no pads, barely any bathrooms. in the shelter schools you have to wait an hour before even getting to use the bathroom because of how many people are there."

"something you don't hear about is how many people die because of sadness. there's so many ways to die in gaza, because of the bombardment, because of starvation, the lack of resources, but i also know many elderly people who died because their hearts couldn't take it anymore. i have been in gaza before and lived through 4 aggressions, but nothing compared to this one."

a recurring sentiment that was echoed in the video: "sometimes i thought to myself: who am i recording this for? because we've already shown everything, we've already talked about everything. everything has already been said, the proof is everywhere, nothing i talked about today is new." rahma said the first video posted about what's happening in palestine should've been enough.

she is 22 today. plestia's closing words: don't stop talking about us, don't stop boycotting, don't stop protesting, please don't get bored of fighting for palestine.

[brittle-doughie]

I feel like Y/N cookie rizzed Black Pearl Cookie the same way donkey from Shrek rizzed the dragon when he first met her.

Image taken from this video by NyangE

You: “Oh my, what large hair you have!”

Black Pearl Cookie: *growls menacingly*

You: “I mean large, beautiful, flowing hair you have! I know you probably hear this all the time from your victims, but you must style it or something because that’s quite magnificent hair you got there! And do I detect the hint of ocean freshness?”

Black Pearl Cookie: “Ooh~ Hehe, please go on~”

You: “And you know what else? Know what else? You’re, uh…”

Black Pearl Cookie: “Yessssss~?”

You: “A LADY mermaid! Oh sure, I mean, of course you’re a lady mermaid because you’re just emanating feminine beauty! What’s the matter, you got something in your eye?”

The giant mermaid lightly tossed some dead fish on the ship in the form of a heart.

You: “Oh! Ooh…man, I really love to stay, I enjoyed our time together, but I’m kinda allergic to fish and I don’t know if it will work out with you toss fish hearts at me and stuff and…CAPTAIN!”

Black Pearl Cookie hums a tune as she grabs Y/N Cookie into her arms and swims away with them, all the while Y/N Cookie futilely calls out to Captain Caviar Cookie.

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

When TXT is making you feel comfortable: habits, routines and rituals that occur when they prioritize your comfort

5 short scenarios per member listed

wc (in total): 1943

no warnings

When Yeonjun is making you comfortable...

... he has his apartment stocked with products that make you feel at home. He has your favorite snacks. He bought your favorite clothes as substitutes that he keeps in his closet for when you stay over. He has some copies of your favorite books and gets some magazines you enjoy. If you're a person who menstruates, he of course has all possible period products ready. If your hobby is painting, he has all utensils at his place. If you are currently into lifting weights and working out, he creates a little sport corner for you. 

'Top drawer on the right', he yells after you when you leave is room to go to the kitchen, because you feel like having a snack.

'Look at the bag in my closet', he instructs when you spilled on your favorite shirt, while he gets the detergent ready to wash your shirt right away.

... he is with you when you decide to face your fears. If he can and it makes sense, he is with you in person, but otherwise, he offers you to be on a call with him or text him. One or the other way,  he will be with you.

'Three, two, one and you go inside, okay? I'll stay on the call and you can return right to my voice if you want to, yeah? Now, my brave baby, three, two, and one'.

... he is his crazy self around you and is the happiest when you slowly allow yourself to let your guard down and become more unhinged yourself. 

'That doesn't sound like a chicken. My donkey impression totally beats yours. Try again'. 

... he directly protects you from others. Whether it's strangers or friends, encountering you with inappropriate intentions or ignorant jokes, he shields you. 

'Keep walking', he spits at a man who is eyeing you up and down when you are outside. Yeonjun pushes himself between you and the crowd immediately and takes your hand to pull you behind him, not letting go of you until he feels like it's rather safe again. 

... he lets you sleep. Regardless if you fall asleep on his bed, taking up all the space or of you fall asleep directly on him, he lets you. The only time he moves you is when your position looks rather uncomfortable and possibly damaging if you remain lying  like that for too long. 

'Oh? Am I that comfy?', he whispers as he looks down on your sleeping figure on his chest, smiling to himself.

When Soobin is making you comfortable...

... he subtly bends his knees or leans against an accessible surface when he's talking to you, to not tower over you as much.

'Oh, why I'm leaning against the wall like this? I'm just a bit tired, that's all'.

... he carries all your bags at a shopping trip and cheers you on in every outfit you are trying out.

'This looks beautiful on you. Wait? Feels a bit too tight? Give me a second. I'll bring it in a different size', he says and rushes into the isles with bags already dangling from his shoulders. He always has capacity to carry just one more thing if it's for you.

... he never, NEVER, distances himself first when you hug. He always waits for you to be ready to let go, because he doesn't even want to give you one nuanced opportunity to doubt him wanting to be with you.

'I'm not letting go before you're ready', he whispers when you were already in his embrace for ten minutes, standing in the middle of the room. It doesn't matter if you are happy, sad, scared, worried. He is constantly ready to be your safe space. 

... he gives you the biggest side-eye. As much as he admires you, he doesn't put you on a pedestal. When your jokes aren't funny or you say something particularly dumb, he will silently let you know and expects to be treated the same. 

'What do you mean unicorns weren't real at least for one period of time on this earth? I literally saw a documentary about it!', he argues and has to contain himself to not burst into a laughter, seeing you shaking your head in disbelief with a big frown on your face. Those situations are so funny and carefree to him. 

... he has your back regarding everything. Regardless of how unrealistic or silly something may seem, he is always there, encouraging you to at least give it a shot. As uncertain a situation, a project, a try may be, he remains your certain stability. 

'So what if it's stupid? You're curious of it. It excites you, so go and see if it could be working for you', he says and adds that regardless of what happens, in the end of the day you can just return to him as always. 

When Beomgyu is making you comfortable...

... he waves at you when he sees you walking towards him, but is surprised to see you turning around to look at the other people who are walking down the street in an attempt to figure out if he might be meeting someone else.

'I was waving at you, you know', he says after greeting you when you are finally standing in front of him.

... he is puzzled to find you wearing long pajama pants as it is a warm summer night during which he is staying over at your apartment. He toys with the fabric when you sit down next to him and experimentally pulls the fabric up your leg a bit. 

'Isn't it way too warm in those?', he questions and listens to you negating in an obvious lie. 

'Just wear shorts. I won't do or think anything inappropriately only because I see your skin', he assures and when you leave to your bedroom to get changed, he adds, 'And don't you dare forcing yourself into that bra any longer'. 

... he observes you lingering a bit closer around him than usually when you feel particularly down. 

'Want to hug?', he simply asks and opens his arms when you shyly nod, inviting you into his embrace at your own pace. 

... he slides on the bench to sit right next to you when you are particularly anxious in a cafe, and he opens his hand as he watches you trying to hide your own trembling one. 

'I'll hold you', he offers and waits for you to place your palm on his. Then he gently encloses his fingers around your hand and makes you shift your focus by asking you to count every brown item you could see in the room. 

... he lets you wear his clothes, either when you're freezing and need extra layers or when it's warm outside but you don't want to wear too revealing clothes. 

'I have a whole closet, just try my clothes'. 

When Taehyun is making you comfortable...

... he doesn't interrupt you. When you are speaking, regardless of how loud and enthusiastic or how quiet and hesitant you are when talking, he listens patiently. 

'No, keep talking. I wanna hear', he encourages when you insecurely stop yourself from sharing. 

... he challenges you. If you want to do something, but doubt yourself, he makes it into playful game to lift the pressure off your shoulders, stepping away from the burden of actively existing. 

'One hour? Okay, one hour and then we'll see who manages to write more applications. Winner gets, hmm, one wish. Anything? Yeah? Let's go', he cheers and starts typing right away.

... he coexists with you in silence. Grocery shopping, cleaning, reading, whatever it is, he doesn't force conversations. Eye contact, gentle smiles, pointing at items, that's already such richness of mundanity. 

'They have your ice cream on sale', he informs and watches you hurrying down the isle to grab some packages, happily smiling at him. 

... he directly teaches and explains things. He doesn't leave room for any condescension. If you don't know something or make a mistake and he knows then he just explains. If you want to learn something he already knows how to do, he offers to teach you if you want. 

'I know this choreo. Want me to play dance teacher?', he asks in a laugh, happy at the thought of spending time with you while you explore your interest. 

... he simply assures and compliments you. 

'You're doing great today', he beams when you tick off another point on your to-do-list and later on doodles a little smiley face on the bottom of your paper. 

When Kai makes you comfortable...

... he takes interest in your interests to genuinely connect with you when you share pieces of your realms of curiosity. 

'Omg, the new episode of your favorite show is online', he informs you in excitement and watches you grabbing your phone to check it yourself. To the question if it would be fine if you watch it now, he just nods and asks if he can join you. 

... he reserves spots for you. In restaurants and cafes he always makes sure you have a place to arrive to when he is there earlier or you are definitely running late. At home he has one plushie that is assigned to you, so it can occupy a chair or one side of the bed, keeping others away from your destined space. 

'Over here', he says loudly when he sees you entering the cafe. He towers over the present people and waves you over to his table, where an empty chair and a cookie or fruit bowl or whatever snack you like, is waiting for you. 

... he laughs with you. He genuinely enjoys your humor and he will not leave you hanging whenever you are telling a joke and make a sassy remark. When you are being clumsy, he laughs it off with you. There is no second of insecure embarrassment when he is around. 

'Yo! I tripped over that exact edge yesterday, too!', he squeals as he holds you by your arm to prevent you from falling and bursts into laughter simultaneously with you when your eyes meet. 

... he lets you be shy. You talk too quietly for people to understand what you're saying? He translates calmly and with a sense of protection over you, his expression telling the listener not to dare making an unnecessary comment regarding your behavior. He lets you hide behind him when you are too shy to face someone or something. 

'Come here', he whispers when he notices your shyness and opens his jacket for you to step closer to him where he can hide you between the fabric and his body, telling people who look confused, that he's freezing a bit.

... he always responds to you. Any question you could possibly ask will get a useful answer and even if it's just him informing over his state of uncertainty regarding a topic or a repeated answer to a repeated question. He doesn't waste time engaging in the reality in the form that  it matters to you.

'Yes, of course I'd love you if you were a worm'; 'My first thought is that I don't mind either, but I feel like I tend to prefer pizza over burger today'; I said it minimum hundred times already, but here is another reminder: You look great and I am going to cuddle you to sleep in every state of your body'. 

[spicycinnabun]

“Steve, something is wrong with Christofern!” Eddie entered Steve’s room, cradling the potted plant in his arms.

He’d come home after work, ready to greet his bud-dy, but one look at him had made Eddie gasp. His leaves were shriveled up like sad little green raisins. Usually, they were puffed up like oversized Rice Krispies.

Christofern had been Robin’s, originally. It had been in a very sorry state on her windowsill before she’d left for college—a lot worse than it looked now, under Eddie’s care, thank you—and she’d told him, “I honestly can’t stand the thing. You keep it. It sheds worse than my aunt’s Great Pyrenees, and I’m tired of vacuuming. Just don’t throw it out, or Steve might murder you.”

And that had been that.

Christofern didn’t look like a typical house plant. He wasn’t a fern, which Steve kept reminding him. Steve was more practical. He didn’t give his plants names but called them by their designated labels.

Christofern was a Donkey’s Tail, or sedum morganianum, part of the succulent family. That term meant absolutely nothing to Eddie unless it was referring to a big bowl of pasta—he had no idea there was a whole plant category called delicious.

“But maybe he wants to be a fern, Steven,” he’d argued. “Ever thought of that? He doesn’t have to be a succulent just because he was assigned so at birth.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” had been Steve’s reply.

At first, Eddie had enlisted Steve’s help purely because he’d wanted his attention, and talking about plants was an easy as hell way to get Steve’s attention. Steve was a very passionate plant dad. But later, Eddie grew to love Christofern, and the trials and tribulations of learning how to care for him were almost like raising his own child.

Christofern had not just one but seven long, thickly spiked green tails. Seven tails. He reminded Eddie of a mutated dragon. He was adorable but occasionally grumpy and high-maintenance, like a certain someone Eddie knew. (Perhaps Christofern was more of a prince than a dragon—a dragon prince?)

If he didn’t get enough sunlight, his leaves shed, and he wilted. If he wasn’t rotated daily, he got yellow and sunburnt. And if he didn’t get enough water…

“I swear I watered him... uh, recently.” When had Eddie last watered him? Not the day before, but maybe Wednesday? Or had it been Tuesday? Shit. Eddie pouted. “I just gave him a drink now, anyway. It’s not too late, is it, Doctor Steve?”

He clasped his hands and watched Steve’s attentive eyes rove over his plant, waiting for the diagnosis.

“Eddie, how could you neglect Christofern like this? I should call Plant Protective Services.” Steve grabbed his hand, startling Eddie and his overactive heartbeat.

He took Eddie’s index finger and pushed it into Christofern’s soil right down to his second knuckle. It felt inappropriate. Eddie made a noise, appalled. “Steven, why are you making me violate Christofern?”

Steve ignored him. “What do you feel? The soil is soaked down there, isn’t it?”

Eddie wiggled his finger. It felt goopy. “Yes,” he admitted.

“You’ve overwatered it,” Steve chastised. “Now, the leaves might rot instead of rehydrating themselves. You’ve got to make sure you don’t drown it. Christofern only needs a moderate amount of water every two weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie said meekly. “I’m sorry, Christofern.”

Steve pulled his finger out of the soil and gave him a look bordering on amusement. “Leave him with me for a few days, and I’ll get him back to where he should be.”

“Thank you, Doctor Steve. How can I ever repay you?” Eddie imagined repaying Steve with his mouth, his tongue, his hands (after he washed the soil off)…

“You can clean the bathroom,” Steve said.

Eddie’s fantasy shattered. He whined. “Does it have to be that?”

“Yup.”

“Damn it, Steve, just make me suck your dick next time,” Eddie grumbled on his way out.

He missed the way Steve’s jaw dropped.

[hedgehog-moss]

Just wanted to say I have been internet-less for a while now, due to damage from a thunderstorm, and it's not clear when the problem will be fixed! Hopefully by Monday but that's also what they said last week. At first I was able to find some 3G here by sitting perilously on the very edge of that one specific window on the 1st floor of the barn >

—but this no longer works for some reason. That's too bad because while I waited 5min for websites to load like it's 2001 I could watch the llamas bounce about and the chickens scour the pasture for insects, it was like having a real life Windows screensaver. But this week was very windy so I assume the elusive airborne internet in this corner of my barn has floated away elsewhere.

My next solution was climbing up to the plateau through the woods with my laptop under my arm to go sit in a pasture that's famous (to me and 1 neighbour) for having inexplicably good cell reception. It's funny because I sat nowhere near the road but Pandolf kept patrolling all over to check for enemies while I checked for emails so people driving by kept stopping their car and crossing the pasture to come say hi like, "I recognised your dog from afar!" I've had better luck keeping in touch with people I know via this great new social network called DogRun than via modern means of communication.

The guy who owns the pasture also came to say hi and when I told him what I was doing here, he looked at his phone and went like, wow, there /is/ great reception here, better than at my farm, I could come check my email here too. So this cow pasture is poised to become a trendy new coworking space.

But then I had to make a video call and that exceeded the capacities of even the great 3G Pasture, so I had to drive several km to sit under a tree a few hundred metres away from a village so I can leech their amazing urban 4G.

This is probably how a mediaeval peasant would make a Zoom call, once a week riding their donkey across the countryside to go sit in a field near the ramparts of the nearest fortified village and enjoy their feudal lord-sponsored high-speed connection.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.1: Tenderly.

pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!reader.

rating: explicit.

setting: pre-canon; in the early 1980s.

warnings/tags: Ben's foul mouth, sexual innuendos, misogyny, racism, antiquated mentality...

summary: soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes at Legend, “No, ain't doing another stupid song. Let Noir do that shit, the kid's been so fucking eager to see his star shine.”

“It wasn't that bad, people loved it. Your fans loved it, and they want more from you,” Legend tries to reason, “Plus, can't win a Grammy award for best record of the year if it sucks. Moreover, it's pretty popular among the young folks.”

The supe sneers, taking a gulp from his drink, he relishes in the burning in his throat even if it's momentarily, “The young folks can suck on my balls. Honestly, the fuck went wrong with young men these days, huh?” He clicks his tongue, “Christ, it is true; good times do create weak, sappy men.” His head jerks to the side sardonically, “Bunch of pussies seeking some women's attention with shitty songs and snivelling lyrics. Chicks don't want no men like that.”

“Yeah well,” Legend shakes his head, a sly grin on his face, “The world's changing, Soldier Boy, if you don't keep up with it, you might end up outdated, just saying.”

Soldier Boy raises a conceited eyebrow, “I'm America's son, hero of all heroes, an actual fucking legend; people practically worship the ground I walk on. In what fucked up sense would that seem to you outdated anytime soon?”

“Time is a tricky thing,” Legend answers with a sigh, “But only for us I presume. I mean look at ya, your sixty-fourth birthday was last month and you don't look a day past thirty. Some lucky bastard you are.”

Soldier Boy grins smugly, placing his glass on the coffee table in front of him where they sat in the living room of his personal quarters in Vought America tower.

Legend decides not to take the time topic any further, because he knows better, such discussions with the strongest supe ever lived are futile and meaningless. Furthermore, he doesn't want to poke Soldier Boy's massive ego, the latter isn't infamous for his temper for nothing. Legend is back to ground zero. So, he tries another way.

“You'll be doing it, though. It's your next mission.” The playful tone from Legend's voice vanishes, a more professional, assertive one replaces it, “It's nothing you can't do. Think of the gals who'll cream their panties when they hear your voice singing their favourite hit.”

Soldier Boy’s lips flip pensively, “Tempting. But still no.”

“Can arrange a collab with whoever female singer you want.” Legend tries again.

“Can ya pair me up with Monroe?” Soldier Boy gives his manager a shit-eating smile.

“For fuck's sake, Soldier Boy,” Legend says with a frown. The little shit, greatest superhero or whatever else, can honestly be a huge pain in his ass. “Be serious.”

“Oh, I'm dead serious,” Soldier Boy grumbles, “Can you do it or not?”

“She died thirty years ago for Christ's sake, of course I can't pair you up with her.”

“Then the answer's still no. I'd rather spend time rubbing one out at Pauline from Donkey Kong than contributing to entertaining a pansy dogshit audience.”

Fuck you. Legend really wants to spit it out loud but he carefully curbs himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Can't help but notice that making my work harder everyday is your new favourite sport, isn't it?”

“C'mon, don't be such a wuss,” Soldier Boy drawls, “Where would be the fun of an easy job? I'm doin' ya a favour; making you truly earn each penny you get paid. It's something we used to call 'hard work' back in my days.”

“Hard work can kiss my ass in that case,” Legend says humorously, shaking his head. Soldier Boy shares an amused chuckle with him.

“Seriously though—”

“Noir's cut out for that shit, not me. He'll be thrilled to do it.” Soldier Boy smirks wickedly as he interrupts him. The kid may not be funny. Fuck, he ain't, and that's precisely why he didn't get Axel Foley at Beverly Hills Cop — but it'd be hilarious to watch him fail in singing. Even if he didn't, nobody can beat Soldier Boy's performing talents.

Before Legend can answer he proceeds, “And tell him while you're at it that he has me to thank for giving him a window like that. He may as well make it fucking count. Make sure he does.” Legend shakes his head.

Soldier Boy and Legend continue to discuss business for another half an hour. Among the offers though; Nintendo wants to make a video game about Soldier Boy.

“For fuck's sake, do those Nips have any dignity?” Soldier Boy jeers.

“Well, it's all about business nowadays.” Legend says. “Arcade games have a large foot in the market, y'know. And, we're hiring many Japanese developers into our new entertainment department. So, I friendly remind you to tune down your slurs.”

Soldier Boy scoffs again. “I’ll see about that…”

When the talk is done, Soldier Boy dismisses the Director of Superhero Management of Vought.

“See ya at the wedding.” Legend says before he steps out of Soldier Boy's quarters.

“Hope fucking not.” The supe murmurs, taking the last gulp of his drink.

This evening Soldier Boy is to attend Dr. Jonah Vogelbaum's daughter's wedding as the guest of honour. The bride is a huge fan of his; her father has personally invited him to the wedding. What more honour can one get than having the greatest superhero ever lived as a guest at their wedding?

Soldier Boy heads to his dressing room to choose a formal outfit for the occasion. He's not going to wear his supe gear even though Vogelbaum made it very clear that he should. But Soldier Boy takes no shit from a nobody, and who the fuck Vogelbaum thinks he is to tell him what to do? Plus, that attire is for business, and him going to that wedding is a mere pursuit for pleasure. He isn't on some mission tonight but to find a good fuck for himself. Women, nonetheless, would throw themselves at his feet regardless of what he puts on. However, fancy tailored suits and bowties seem to pull women more effectively into his charm. When he clads in his supe suit, he's more intimidating; a god walking among men. Women would sigh at his sight and eye-fuck him, but beneath the layers of infatuation, he can perceive the lick of fear in their eyes. Like he's an invincible idol that cannot be touched by lesser hands. Not that he doesn't fucking relish in having such an impact, but he still prefers to pluck a catch in such occasions. Some nice chick who's eager to warm his bed in fearless vigour, some girl who can actually handle his raw strength and superhuman stamina. Especially when Countess won't be up his ass sulking like the bitch she is whenever he pays another woman his attention.

His relationship with Countess is nothing but for show. Pure business. Vought thought they looked good together and had an appealing chemistry in the public eye. Power couple and that shit. But in fact, Soldier Boy has no ounce of romantic feelings for her. Sure, they fuck around every now and then, but nothing more to add to it.

When he's fully dressed and spruced up he looks at himself in the full-length mirror and nods in approval. He'll definitely make the ladies' panties drop tonight.

Soldier Boy arranges a few lines of coke for himself on the coffee table. It'll help him  handle all of the cock-sucking kiss asses he's going to interact with tonight.

God fucking damn.

It takes the mightiest of his steel aplomb not to roll his eyes or hiss a curse. The moment he arrives at the wedding in the swanky hotel, he has everyone's attention all to himself. Guests swarming around him with hearts in their eyes, already forgetting about the wedding. Happy shrieks emit from the gals, and full admiration in the eyes of pals.

Ben puts on an expertly-feigned and charming smirk as he nods his head and shakes hands.

“Oh my Gosh, it's really him!”

A pretty woman in a dashing white dress wobbles down in his direction. The fucking bride. Soldier Boy's grin couldn't get any wider. The girl practically left her fucking husband standing with his groomsmen and came marching to him. Something huge and satisfying sprouts in the depths of his chest when he sees the young man briefly stink-eye in his way.

“If it ain't the queen of the show,” He drawls with a stentorian voice and a conceited raise of his brow. The bride holds a breath, her companion bimbos of bridesmaids sighing dreamily, “Well, congrats on tying the knot, darlin',” Large hand taking the bride's gloved one as he leans down to press a light kiss on her knuckles, and the girls squeal.

“Thank you, sir,” The corner of Soldier Boy's lips curls up into a half grin as he hears the groom's curbed voice, “A huge pleasure for us having the greatest man alive honouring our wedding,”

The man extends his hand out for a shake and Soldier Boy doesn't disappoint. “What can I say, Sonia is one of my best girls,” He sends a playful wink to the bride, and her groom's face rises in colour. However, she giggles timidly with blushing cheeks, and covers her mouth slightly.

“Thank you again, sir, for coming,” Sonia chirps, “Means a lot to us… to me, right, darling?”

Her new husband answers with tight lips, “Yeah, of course, please enjoy your time here, sir.”

Sure hell I'll do.

After signing some autographs, which mostly came from the bridesmaids on this special occasion, Soldier Boy lets out an elongated sigh before plucking a flûte of champagne from a server wandering around with a full tray of pleasantries. With the first sip invading his strong taste buds, he regrets it instantly. That shit is extra fruity with enhanced floral notes, it made his face controt in disgust.

“You're late,” The Doc's voice comes curt when he appears next to him, eyeing him disapprovingly. His unpleasing presence made the twitch of his face worse. The little shit. He should be kissing his ass and thanking him for wasting his time on this crap. Soldier Boy should hand it to him, though, he's got some balls. He scoffs. Ever since Vogelbaum gained Stan Edgar's infinite corroboration and support, he's become insufferable. And perhaps sometimes looming dangerously close to make Soldier Boy's hackles rise.

Ben grins indifferently at him, “Had a tight schedule,” Be glad I'm here you ungrateful old fuck.

Vogelbaum stretches his lips and nods, “You have my thanks anywho,” He grumbles, “Though I strictly told you to honour us with your presence in your suit.”

“Yeah, you did,” Soldier Boy replies with a shit-eating grin, “But wasn't in me to steal the light away from your breathtaking helluva daughter,” He patted the doctor's shoulder, “Cheer the hell up, Doc, it's your daughter's wedding and you have the greatest man ever lived as your guest!”

Ben can't endure another second of this man's company. He hands him the flûte and threads his way to the bar to order a drink. A real fucking drink. He sights a vacant stool next to a pretty woman who seems to be without company. He grins to himself when he catches a better angle of her. She is a beauty. Maybe she's the lucky one tonight. He smoothes his suit jacket and adjusts his bowtie before sliding nimbly on the stool.

He orders a strong liquor from the bartender and the beauty next to him cooes, “Make it two, please.”

He turns his head to her with an arched eyebrow, because fuck does he appreciate a woman who's not a lightweight, “Tough night?”

Her painted mouth curls up into an inveigling smile, “Should I ask you the same question?”

Brave. Tempting. He loves brave. Whereas most women are intimidated by him, this one here though, she looks unfazed. He likes it. He wonders what she's gonna sound when he's balls deep inside of her. Timid, brave, strong, weak, they all sound the same in his bed when he touches the magic button. One thing he was certain of was she'd sound pretty in her throes of pleasure.

He gives her figure a quick scan; she isn't one of bridesmaids that's for sure. She's wearing a forest green dress. Her skin is glowing beneath the velvet, and a pleasant fragrance emitting from her body. Her neck and ears are adorned with gold and rubies. She looks hazily beautiful.

“Groom's or bride's?” He asks when their drinks are served.

She flashes him a grin with those tempting lips, “Why wouldn't you hazard a guess like when you do on a minefield?” She winks, taking a gulp of her drink.

Interesting, he raises an amused brow. At least she ain't playing easy. He has to give her that; she's making his night way more entertaining. He likes to play prey and predator let alone when she's practically inviting him to do so.

A playful grin graces his lips, replying, “Can't risk bursting a pretty lady like you tho, can I?”

She lets out a small laugh, “God forbid, what kinda superhero would you be then?” His eyebrows knit together slightly as he watches her grabbing her purse and preparing herself to leave.

“It was nice running into you, sir,” She remarks, “But you'll have to excuse me…”

“Sure, sweet cheeks…”

She nods as she moves away with such grace and swiftness. Ben doesn't realise he was holding his breath until it clicks within him. Fuck, he forgot to ask her her name. But nothing to worry about, he catches her entering the powder room. In moments, he'll go after her and take this rather interesting conversation somewhere else.

He waits though. For more than fifteen minutes. Vogelbaum makes his way on the stage to raise a toast to his daughter and her groom, and he doesn't forget to give Ben a word of gratitude for being here. People cheer and applaud when the lights shine upon him, and he smiles and nods at them. On another occasion, he'd enjoy this to the fullest. His mind, however, is occupied by finding a pretty seductress. Can it be that she left? No, he doesn't think so. Fuck, if only he could distinguish her voice out of the many nattering and yapping voices despite his superhuman hearing. He considers asking Vogelbaum about her later. Maybe the man would be useful to him for once. But he will not have to, though.

The lights of the hall ebb away, save for the ones above the music stage.

A wide grin slips into his lips when he sees her behind the microphone, and their eyes lock for a moment. She gives him a teasing wink.

The little minx, he thinks.

Tender music emanates from the piano and she starts to sing with a silky voice.

The evening breeze caressed the trees tenderly

Damn, he likes that song. And her voice couldn't be more on brand for it!

The trembling trees embraced the breeze tenderly

He feels the said breeze of her cooes and it makes him shiver.

Then you and I came wandering by

And lost in a sigh were we

Ben conjures a vivid image of her sighs of pleasure.

The shore was kissed by sea and mist tenderly

She's the shore, and his mouth is the sea.

I can’t forget how two hearts met breathlessly

Your arms opened wide

And closed me inside

You took my lips

You took my love

So tenderly

A loud applause erupted from the guests when she finished, and Ben found himself amongst the riveted clappers.

God fucking damn.

Ben knows a lot of singers, hell, he works with them sometimes. But never has he ever heard such a mellifluous voice like this one! How come he hasn't known of her before? A new face, he guesses. He wonders if Legend knows her.

Ben stops clapping as his conversation with Legend that afternoon flashes through his mind. That's it.

Shortly after the wedding, Ben heads back to his quarters in Vought's tower, impatiently dialling Legend's number.

“That sappy song you wanted me to do—” He says right away.

“Well, good evening to you too,” Legend drawls from the other end, “As happy as I am to hear that, Ben, but I'm kinda fucking tired to talk business right now. Despite my marvellous traits, I'm still a human.”

“I'll do it.”

Soldier Boy could hear Legend switching the handset of the telephone to the other hand. And before the latter says anything he proceeds.

“Only on one condition...”

🦅 Next Chapter: A New Window.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

🦅 The Boys Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin...

[inbabylontheywept]

your life stories are always so interesting so i shall poke a stick into the cage and ask for more. do you have any fun stories of near death experiences? personally i choked on a lifesaver as a child and could not breathe

personally? not really. ive got a pretty decent hospital story though.

see, my grandpa was in charge of the easter pageant in my state. its a big mormon thing, a lot of other churches come because its just good easter worship. anyway, in part of the pageant, theres a pony for jesus and mary to ride around on. technically supposed to be a donkey, but ponys are just so much more photogenic. anyway this happened when my little sister was going through her little-girl-pony phase, so this was so major-league shit to her. so much so that my grandpa, who i still miss so much, brought this pony to our house so she could ride it.

my little brother? he also wanted to ride it. and i didnt really want to ride it, but they were both so small someone kind of needed to hold those two onboard, and i was the lighest person capable of doing so, (didnt want to overload the pony) so i went on the back too.

and it was a stellar time until the donkey went under a tree, then my little sister hit her head on a branch and fell left, and her fall took my little brother out because he was holding onto her, and both of them took me out, so we all fell off the pony, but me with 2 kids on my left arm.

god blessed me with a third elbow that day.

here are the things that followed after the Miracle of the Third Elbow

my autistic dad came outside to check on me. id broken my arm the year before, so i knew what it was, and i knew what it felt like, so i was able to pretty clearly go "yeah, dad, i broke my arm." and he was able to go "whew. yeah. thats like, harry potter broken." and i was able to say "yeah. yeah it hurts pretty bad." and he said "oh, yeah, definitely. that looks horrible." and then i basically said something like "hopital" and he was like "right" and then we left. my memory after that gets weird.

i can remember driving up main street, and seeing this guy dancing. like, full on dancing down the street. and i asked my dad about why that guy was dancing, and he said that man was a schizophrenic, and he was medicated, but the medication had just made it so that his voices told him to dance instead of hurt himself. now he danced all the time. i should clarify that my dad worked in the ER so he knew a lot of the local homeless on a life-story kind of level. my dads a good guy.

i can remember sitting in the waiting room with a magician that had sliced his right hand open pretty bad while cooking. he was trying his best to keep us entertained with his cards, but because he was doing all his tricks left handed, he'd mess them up sometimes and it was actually kind of more fun to watch than just him in expert mode. another good guy. very friendly, but visibly repulsed by my arm.

i can remember being in a bed, and a nurse coming up to me and saying that they could give me some painkillers, which i was super stoked about, but the IV from the painkillers basically required being stabbed with a needle as thick around as a pencil. she recomended saying the alphabet backwards when she put the needle in, and i said i didn't know how, and then she stuck in the needle in. over 4 seconds i was able to go from z to c, a feat i have never since been able to replicate.

after the painkillers, i watched a tv show called Jackie Chan Adventures, which was an animated cartoon with an animated Jackie Chan, voiced by the real Jackie Chan, solving mysteries. i actually assumed that whole thing was a hallucination until i was an adult, and i was describing it to my wife, and she was like "no, that actually happened." which was funny to happen to me, because when me and her started dating, she just kind of dropped how awesome it was that obama was the first muslim president, and i was like what, no hes an episcopalian, and it turns out that her dad, who sucks for many reasons, had told her that obama was a muslim, and she was sweet enough to believe that, and also to just be like oh, neat, our president is black and a muslim, we are truly moving forward as a counry." i love her so much.

no memories of it after that. not even sure when i got home. just a straight up weird time.

[k0juki]

You and Mafia Max having a night out in the Netherlands.

Mafia!Max Verstappen

Carneval night

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

More Mafia!Max posts here!

A/n: The time-line is before they broke up.

Wc: 624

---

You were only a few months in the Netherlands, so Max thought that it would be fun to show you around Amsterdam.

At first you were here just because of your father, but after some time and meeting some new people, including Max, you decided to stay here, with him.

Amsterdam has become more than just a temporary stop—now it's your home, filled with love and adventure. You fell in love with him, and he did the same.

"I heard there's a street festival here." Max suggested and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Live music, delicious food stalls, and carnival games. I thought you would like it."

"That doesn't sound so bad." You teased him, but he can't say he doesn't like it, because he does like it.

As you stroll through the vibrant streets of Amsterdam, the festive atmosphere fills you with excitement. You really liked this place, because it wasn't anything like back home in London.

"Oh, look Max, they have these big stuffed animals here!" You pointed out and made your way to that booth with Max right beside you.

"Who do I have to shoot to get that donkey?" You asked and took that heavy gun. Max and the stall holder laughed. "I mean it."

"Yeah, she's not joking." Max grined and gave warning look to that guy. It was sign that nor Max or you were joking. You really wanted that stupit stuffed animal.

"I'm sure you do young lady, the rules are simple, you have to shoot down the cans. That's all." He explained, as he moved aside, you pointed the gun at cans and shot. Completely missed. It was harder than you expected.

At first, Max was just wheezing, so you didn't mind him much, but after some time... "That was amazing love, you have to teach me." He laughted and clapped his hands.

"Oh, ha ha...I'm just warming up." You adjusted the gun and shot. Missed again.

That couldn't be right, the gun was just too heavy. And what was worse, Max's laugh starts to piss you off. Did he want to die? You were sure he did. You said nothing and just gave him a long side eye. If look could kill, Max would be instantly dead.

"Someone is asking for trouble." You whispered and shot the last shoot. Nothing.

You put the gun down and turned to Max with both hands on your hips. "You wanna try it, Emilian?"

That shut him up, because everyone that was close to Max and you knew that you normally didn't call Max Emilian. More like Max, Maxi or love. You were really pissed off.

But he didn't waste any second and took the gun the moment it was reloaded and perfectly shot three times, all cans fell down.

Max looked at you with a smug face and put down the gun. You just crossed your arms as that stallholder cherished and congratulated Max, he just laughed a little and said, "I will take that donkey."

As Max handed you that stuffed animal, he leaned his head down and kissed your cheek. "For a pretty lady, one big donkey."

You thanked Max and took his hand in yours, everything was forgiven. And then you started dragging him to another interesting place you saw.

But you didn't notice how Max turned back to the stallholder and how they exchanged a long glances of knowing, he knew who Max was, so even if Max didn't shoot right after you, he would give you that stuffed donkey himself.

His life was worth more than some plush.

"What do you say we look for next?" Max asked and put his arm back around you. Even though you were completely clueless, but still happy.

---

🫶

[niefics]

“JUST FRIENDS” — P.SH X FEM!Y/N

Sypnosis : Y/n L/n struggles to keep her friendship with her closest friend Sunghoon normal, however they struggle horribly, fighting their urges for him in more ways then one. PART 2 !

Warnings : Possibly cringey jokes, cursing, pet names, smut, not proofread, sloppy (?) blowjob

Wc : 2021

— I wake up immediately, startled by the sudden noise. I hear constant banging coming from my apartment door, I got up walking into the living room to my front door. I stepped on my tippy toes looking up into the peephole to see my bestfriend, park sunghoon. I open the door tiredly to see him, giving me a bright smile, weird for this hour. “Why are you at 12am?” I asked in a tired tone, rubbing my eye.

“Because, I wanted to see you that’s all.” He spoke, I knew for a fact there was a reason he’d come over so unexpected. “Jake has a girl over doesn’t he ?” He nodded quickly, i moved to the side letting him in as he takes his shoes off and going to my couch sitting on it. “Y/n, it’s so loud I wanted to break down.” He whined to me. I rolled my eyes knowing he wouldn’t have a care in a world if it was him getting laid. “Her moans aren’t even hot so it’s wor-.” The actual fuck

My face contorted in a way it showed my disgust. “Why, did I have to know ?” I asked, he laughed. “I mean trust me if you were there you’d understand, she sounds like a donkey.” Alright that one was kinda funny but he doesn’t need to know. “A donkey is crazy, truly.” I spoke finally sitting on the couch beside him crossing my legs. “No, but I really did miss you.” He spoke in a more serious tone. I lift my eyebrow crossing my arms.

“You saw me earlier ?” “So, and I can tell you missed me too look at you in my hoodie.” I scoffed, I can’t deny I like him not enough for it to be obvious in my opinion. A simple smile whenever I see him is the most he’ll see. “Okay? It’s comfortable and the perfect size.” Sunghoon looked at me, with a look on his face. “You know what else is the perfect size.”

“I will send you home to hear Jake bend some girl over don’t start with the dick size bullshit.” Honestly, I’ve heard those same jokes since middle school, and the fact we both decided to go to the same university was worse. I was kind of glad to see him here and there, I mean he is my bestfriend after all. “Y/n,” he dragged my name out like he always does when he’s about to ask me something like a child. “Can we make food and watch a movie ?” I got up, going into my kitchen pulling out a pot filling it with water. I pulled out his favorite ramen pouring it into the water with the seasoning.

The food was getting closer to being done when I felt his figure above me grabbing extra things from above me like bowls for our food. He pulled them down with one hand his hand staying in my waist as he grabbed one more thing from the cabinet. I look down and saw his conventionally veiny hand on my waist whilst I was also wearing his hoodie still. I took a deep breath worrying more about our food and less about the fact his head is right beside mine .. wait.

“Y/nnie, how the food going ?” He asked, closed to my ear. His warm breath cm away from my ear. “.. Almost.” I spoke trying to make it not obvious it was doing something to me. “Okay, I’ll be waiting, call me when you’re done.” He suddenly kissed my cheek, I turned my head back to see him, I looked up at him. “What’s wrong sweets?” He asked calmly. “What’s up with you and this sudden affection ?” I asked. He shrugged his shoulders, walking away soon after.

Finally the foods finished, I make out plates. Sunghoon comes in to check on me seeing that the food is done he come sun and decides to take over. “Hmm, let me take these you can carry the waters.” He spoke walking into the living room with our food in hands. “Why are you acting so .. affectionate.” I questioned. “I can’t be nice ?” He spoke. “What? No! No.. you’re just acting different.” I spoke watching him stand in place turning toward me. “What are you talking about ? I don’t think I’m acting weird.” I nodded slowly. “Yes you are. You’ve been more, how can I say this.” I spoke. “Clingy .. you know ?” I said after collecting my words. He looks at me confused yet trying to understand what I was talking about. “Hey let’s eat before the food gets cold.” He spoke, sitting the food down on my coffee table. I roll my eyes and frustration.

— As he watched our favorite movie that we occasionally watched together while eating, I occasionally glanced at him wondering what was going on for him to do that. I was trying so hard to understand. I finished my food, placing it in the coffee table and grabbing my water bottle opening it and as soon as I opened it to drink from the bottle, I feel my things get cold causing me to curse under my breath. “Fuck.” I got up quickly to go change tops and to wipe my wet thighs down. “Y/n?” He spoke watching me get up so abruptly, getting up soon after me to follow me into my room. I didn’t notice, as I thought he was still engulfed by the comedy movie.

“Fuck.” He spoke realizing what I was doing by the time I was searching through my closet for a top to wear.. nothing on my chest since I was just at home. “Shit!” I spoke in a whisper realizing he was there, he wasn’t there for long covering his eyes after seeing a glimpse of my bare chest. My nipples were surprisingly hard and very noticeable in his small glimpse. “Im.. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.” He spoke walking into the nearest room which was the bathroom.

The moment replayed in his head like a catchy song making it hard for him to think about anything else but the boner growing in his grey sweats. He didn’t expect something as a bare chest to get him hard, he didn’t know wether it was because of how close he was to her early being a factor or the innocent look I gave him unintentionally.

I quickly changed to a big tshirt, running to my bathroom to knock on the door. “Did you see anything ?” I asked, to be fair i would be to embarrassed to face him weather or not it was a yes or no. “N.. no.” He spoke, slowly starting to panic trying to find a way to quickly conceal his aching boner. He pulled down his sweater which was conveniently dark, hopefully it was hard to notice. He opened to the door to see. “Don’t worry .. I didn’t see anything anyways. Let’s finish the movie.” He spoke, as we walked back into my living room. He knew one way or another he’d half to find a way to calm himself down. Taking the blanket covering himself.

I took a bit of the blanket to cover myself and to keep warm, I feel him snatch the blanket a little in fear of me noticing his still aching boner. “What are you doing ?” I questioned trying to act like he didn’t see me half naked. “I’m cold that’s all.” He spoke, i questioned why he would be cold when he is covered head to toe, i on the other hand would be the one cold in the situation. “Sunghoon.. you have a thick ass hoodie on.” I spoke, he yanked the blanket once again. “So ? It’s still a bit chilly in here.” Sunghoon is acting way to strange for me genuinely.

“I’m not about to playing tugle war with you.” I spoke pulling the blanket back and seeing that there’s enough space for both of us. “Stop snatching the blanket, you have some.” I spoke, taking my eyes back to the movie while sunghoon struggled to keep his mind off the sight he saw earlier. The movie seemed like it was gonna play forever, he sighed his mind and body becoming impatient. “Y/n..” he spoke looking at me. I turned to look at him, humming to his call of my name. “Can you help me with something?” He asked softly looking at me in the eyes, i hummed. “With what?” I asked, feeling my hand get grabbed by his pulling me a little closer to him as he guided my hand to his boner, surprising me.

I was startled snatching my hand back, I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t that. “I tried to hide the fact I did see you topless for half a second, but the thought is eating me alive .. please help me fix it?” He spoke with pleading eyes making think about it extra hard. He moved the blanket showing me his boner, the tv reflection hitting it. I looked at him, debating if I should let him hit or something faster, a blow job. I mean I might be a little rusty but it’ll help with his problem for the most part.

I never really expected our friendship to come like this, me helping him with a blowjob. I mean yes I kinda like him, but never expected this to ever happen.

— I sighed, slowly rubbing his hard on. He relaxed trying to calm his nerves down. My nervousness skyrocketed, looking at him, giving him a signal to pull his sweats and boxers down. I am truly glad I didn’t let him fuck because the fear that came on my face when I saw how big it was. It was bigger then I’ve ever had and a little longer too. I started rubbing his shaft as I saw precum seep out of his slit as I started to collect my saliva. I lowered myself down closer to his shaft slowly spitting on it, pulling back up and rubbing it just as before.

I rubbed my thumb over his slit, as i tried to calm my nerves down before putting my mouth on his member. He realized I was a bit nervous, rubbing my back ultimately calming me a little. I sighed finally putting my mouth on his shaft causing him to gasp. I went up and down slowly molding my mouth to fit around him almost perfectly. He started breathing faster, grabbing my hair and helping me go down a little more till I started gagging. There was still space left before I hit the base of his shaft, I placed my hand around it to pump it as i bobbed my head.

Low groans, cursing and wet gag noises could be heard, the movie long over. “Ah .. fuck!” He groaned as I struggled to breathe, tears falling down my face while my hands were no longer on his shaft after I was finally able to take it all like a “good girl.” As he put it.

His thighs were a bit messy with slobber. He didn’t care whatsoever, enjoying the sight of using me to get off. “I’m so cl.. o.. se.” He whined unintentionally thrusting into my mouth while still holding my hair. “G..onna le..t me use that cunny too?” By now I could tell he was lost gone, nothing but the thought of cumming in my mouth was his main and only thought. But I couldn’t deny the thought of him fucking me made me wet and needy.

His hips stuttered as he held my mouth as he came shortly after he let me breathe moments before. I tried my best to swallow all of hit, some seeping onto my lips. I bobbed my head a little so he could ride out his high, his hand letting go of my now messy hair. I sit up whipping and kicking the rest of the cum off my thumb.

He patted his lap, wanting me to sit on it. “Come here.” He demanded.