#Half the Hurt

[icallhimjoey]

How about when you're having a blah off day and you just want to get spicy with your boyfriend to block everything out but he wants to talk it out and make you feel better *emotionally* and that's just so annoying (but also kinda turns you on even more). soft joey seems like that kind of boyfriend.

.............................. you bitch (i love you) Wordcount: 4.3K (tw/cw: 18+ descriptive smut, a little hurt/comfort, reader has hair long enough to fall into joe's face, sunday scaries for The Future)

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Half the Hurt, Twice the Joy

Joe barely gets a foot in the door before you’re on him.

“Heyhmp–…”

His keys are still stuck in its lock, and you’ve already attached yourself to Joe by the face. You’ve not seen him for two days, and even though that’s by no means the longest you’ve gone without each other, every second was one too many.

Long day.

Long week.

Too much time spent alone thinking about how you’re becoming more and more convinced that you’ve made a grave mistake and are now stuck in a career you don’t want, climbing a ladder you don’t want to climb. It’s a huge pit of endless anxiety with upcoming deadlines you aren’t going to be able to make, don’t really want to make, and you know you’re going to have to face the music sooner rather than later.

Which is terrifying.

And you, understandably so, don’t really want to think about it anymore. You’ve done enough worrying for the week, maybe even the whole month.

What you do want to think about, is Joe.

“What’s going on?” he manages between kisses.

“Missed me, mmh?”

You can feel how Joe smiles against your mouth as he tries his best to work his way inside with you hanging off his neck. You don’t really make it any easier when you use the leverage to pull your legs up and around him as well.

You had missed him.

A lot.

Last night you’d felt too lonely to safely be alone. Had nearly called him at 2 am.

Hadn’t.

But nearly had.

Having him here now comes with a new surge of emotion that’s easy to hide away in fumbling fingers and biting kisses.

Joe has to lean back to balance himself, and groans at the sudden extra weight he has to carry, dropping his bag to make sure he can hold you up, both hands spread wide on the underside of your thighs.

He gladly accepts your kisses, but when it goes on for too long, when it all starts feeling a little too urgent, he can’t help the slight worry that creeps up his back.

When you feel how he wants to pull back a little, you easily move on and kiss down his jaw.

Find his neck.

Use your hands to push his coat down his shoulders as you hotly breathe, “Been waiting for you all day.” into his skin.

You hadn’t. It’s only been just over an hour since you’ve gotten in. But the sentiment of it is true.

Joe’s coat gets stuck on in his elbows and he’s forced to put you down if he wants to take it off properly. Your feet find the floor again with a dissatisfied grumble, but your arms remain around his neck which you use to pull him down in a bid to keep kissing him.

Which Joe does.

Easily so.

Who is he to argue a welcome home like this after a couple of weird days at work where he didn’t really do much, but somehow still feels exhausted? He blindly reaches to hang his coat over one of the hooks, and he tries two, three times, but then has to break away from you to look at what he’s doing.

It’s then that he gets his first real glimpse of what you look like.

It’s clear you’ve been crying and even clearer that you’ve wiped the skin under your eyes raw in order to hide it from him. He can see the remnants of mascara smeared close to your hairline, and frowns at the sight.

“Hey, what happened?”

You move back in to kiss him some more, use force to pull him back down by the shoulders, but he works against you and fights it.

“You been crying? What’s wrong?”

You redirect focus and get up on your tippy toes as you start undoing the buttons on his shirt.

You don’t want to talk.

Don’t want to think about everything bad. You’re mentally exhausted and need distraction. Want to think about nice things. Or, even better, don’t want to think about anything at all for a little while.

Just want to exist in your body.

Feel nice in your body.

You know that Joe knows how to do that.

Joe always makes you feel so nice in your body.

“Take your shirt off,” you command, ignoring how Joe’s hands reach for yours to hold as he tries for eye-contact that you’re not giving him. He’s not so much kissing you back anymore.

“Darling…”

You’re undressing him, and he lets you, but he doesn’t help.

“What’ve you been crying for?”

You yank on his sleeve to slide it off his arm.

“Hey.”

The skin of Joe’s chest feels as soft against your lips as it looks. Joe’s warm. Smells nice. You want to feel him all over, and so you do. Frantic hands move from Joe’s stomach ‘round to his back where your nails softly scratch towards his spine whilst your lips press into different spots on his front.

Don’t get him wrong.

Joe likes this.

Joe likes this a lot.

He can’t help the foot that takes a step forward when one of yours takes a step backward, his body blindly following you further into the flat. He melts under the attention. Wants your back-scratches to last for hours – they make his whole body tingle. Make his hearing go funny.

But he would at least like to know if there’s something wrong that he should know about, yet you’re ignoring him.

He knows he’s going to have to push you a little. He’s going to need to push you just enough.

It’s an inner battle that, just before he’s about to step over the threshold to the bedroom, makes him take hold of your arms to pull them from the hold you have on him.

“Hey, talk to me. Come on, what’s going on?”

With both your arms held out wide by strong fingers, you’re still able to press kisses where you want them. It hurts your shoulders a little, but you press as much of yourself as you can manage into him whilst you mouth over his clavicle.

Turning his face away from you does nothing – you’re not stopped until Joe pushes both your arms back until they can no longer bend and you have no choice but the accept the space Joe is trying to create.

“Nothing,” you quip quickly, avoiding eye-contact. “Come here, I want to k–” you try leaning back in, but are immediately pushed back again.

“Nothing?” Joe smiles as his eyebrows knit upwards. “Baby, look at me… hey.”

You don’t want to look at him.

You want to kiss Joe and for Joe to kiss you back, and you want the strong grip he’s got on your arms to be moved to your waist where his hands can sneak under your top before he pulls that over your head and undresses you, and you want–

You’ve got your eyes trained on his chest. On the sparse bit of hair he’s got there.

“You’re starting to scare me.”

A small huff of frustration leaves you, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Joe doesn’t have to be scared, jumping to stupid conclusions, making this much worse than it is or it needs to be.

For a short moment, Joe think that you’re considering opening up to him for the simple fact that he’s annoying you, but then he watches as your eyes fall down until it looks like they’re closed and you take a deep breath. Very slowly, you let your head fall forward until it bumps against his chest.

Fine, you think. Forced to be a sensible adult before anything else – like a sexy minx of a girlfriend – you do your best to muster up the right words to tell him that maybe you’ve done your whole life wrong and you don’t think that there’s a way back to undo and fix it.

It’s quiet except for the sound of your breathing, shallow and uneven.

Joe feels in your body how you give in and he’s quick to loosen the grip he has on your arms that he’d been pushing back. You look like you desperately need a hug. Both his arms slowly circle around you, one across your back whilst the other places a hand to the back of your head where he pets down your hair before planting his chin on top, pressing you against him.

It’s almost enough to make you start crying again.

“What made you cry? Hmm? What’s wrong?” he asks, soft and caring. “Let me help.”

He needs to push you just enough.

You take a shuddering breath, entirely unsure of what to say. Of how not sound stupidly dramatic.

Joe is generous with his touches, but it’s caring and emotional and everything inside of your body screams for a want of something else.

You don’t want care and emotion.

Don’t want to say words. To talk.

“I don’t–…”  you voice cracks before you’ve even really said anything. Joe lets his hand slip under the curve of your neck to tip your head back.

He’s met with two wet eyes that try their best to blink back tears, and he can’t help how the sight of you makes his own face drop.

“Come on, let’s go sit.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m–”

“Let’s go sit anyway.”

You get guided over to your living room where Joe sits down on the sofa and then welcomes you onto his lap. Sitting down sideways, you shimmy down enough to lay your head on Joe’s shoulder as he wraps both arms around you to hold you close.

“It’s obvious you’re not fine. Remember how– didn’t I tell you we’re a team? We fight battles together, don’t we? Joint effort, always. Half the hurt, twice the joy. Teamwork.”

A frustrated huff of air escapes you.

“What’s so hard to say, hm? You know it’s just me…”

And just as he says that, something occurs to him.

“Oh, fuck. Is it me? Did I do something?” Joe asks, and you understand why he asks, but it doesn’t stop you from making an annoyed face at him in retaliation, pulling back a little so you’re sure he receives it. Not everything is about him, and if he thinks he’s being funny: he’s not.

Joe doesn’t think he’s being funny, though.

Joe’s trying to push buttons to see which one is going to make you open up. There’s bound to be one that’ll get you to. He shakes his head at your frown, face sort of filled with concern for you. A tiny pinch appears in his brow as he softly whispers, “Did someone do something to you?”

His gaze plunders into your soul when your eyes flick up to look at him, quickly shaking your head because, no, no one did something to you to hurt you.

“Honestly, no. It’s nothing. It’s–…”

You’d just been left alone too long to think too deep about all the things you weren’t happy about and now everything was all… wrong. But you were going to have to sort through everything on your own first, you thought. Process it in time. Let it all simmer for a second.

You shake your head again and give a small shrug.

Joe seems a little pleased at your nonverbal answer as he lets his fingers trace featherlight along your jaw. You’re not giving him much else to go on, though.

After scanning your features for a long moment, searching for clues he doesn’t find, Joe nods to himself. There’s no real sense of fight in him since there doesn’t seem to be any left in you either. He can tell that you’re not entirely with him, a hollow shell of yourself.

“Can’t have you so upset and not know what it’s about... you’re far too pretty for that.”

You smile at that. It’s only small and terribly closed off, but Joe sees it. He gently shakes your face with his hand in hopes of that smile brightening a little more, but it doesn’t really work. Joe watches you closely, and sees your lips part softly to speak but before you have the chance, he uses his nose to nudge your head back a little so he gets access to the sensitive skin of the column of your neck.

Maybe you’re right, you know?

Maybe pushing you was having the opposite effect right now.

Maybe there’s something to say for a little comfort before dipping into this big deep pond of confusing feelings you don’t really seem to know how to articulate quite right.

Time to give you what you were so clearly after the second you laid your eyes on him.

He’ll get to the bottom of this after you’ve cheered up a little.

He’ll push you for an answer when you feel a bit better.

The gasp Joe hears at the touch of his lips to your neck is small, just a little one, followed by a sigh that turns into a soft hum. You let your head fall to the side to grant Joe even better access as he slowly mouths up along your jaw towards your ear.

“So, so pretty.”

Joe captures your lips with his gently as both his hands slip down to your sides to pull you closer by the fabric of your top.

Joe feels how hesitant you are at first. How you’re holding back in your kissing, unlike how you were kissing him when he just got in, probably afraid he’s going to pull back and ask you what’s wrong again if you get too into it.

It’s why he does his best to not break away from you as he manoeuvres you on his lap, encouraging you to move until you’re straddling him, one knee pushing into the sofa either side of his thighs. Both his arms then curl around your middle to pull you flush to his front, his head tipping back to rest against the sofa.

You remain careful, but Joe’s topless, and his skin is warm, so you let Joe kiss you, and let your fingers dance down his arms and grab onto both his biceps.

It’s not until Joe croaks, “Take these off,” into your mouth with a finger curling under the waistband of your jeans that you truly understand what’s happening. Your breathing changes immediately, and the sweet relief of being able to give in to your urges as Joe does the same feels tangible in your body.

Joe feels how you relax and has to hide his smile into the way he kisses you before he helps you up enough to take your bottoms off.

Feels good to give you want you want.

A clumsy ordeal follows where your fingers find the button of your jeans just as your eye falls onto the one on his, which prompts you to bend and reach for Joe’s button to undo instead of focusing on undressing yourself. Joe doesn’t stop you, and instead helps you out. You end up yanking on each other’s blue denim until a burst of giggles bubbles up and out the both of you.

“What are we doing?” Joe laughs, facial expression stupid when he lifts his hips up and undresses himself.

“Just helping. Teamwork.” You wriggle denim down your hips and let all of it pool at your ankles where you barely get your feet out before Joe’s hands slip behind your thighs on either side. He squeezes you gently to guide you back onto his lap as he slips down the sofa a bit more.

Joe grins up at your smile, happy to see how it lingers.

You’re both still in your underwear, and you’re still wearing your top, but there’s something so nice about Joe’s hands that sneak under the soft cotton as you lean down to kiss him again. This time, there’s nothing careful or gentle about the way you latch yourself back onto Joe. He responds with his tongue that works its way into your mouth, swiping against yours and making you moan outwardly.

That makes Joe jump inside of his underwear strong enough for you to feel, and it encourages you to press your hips down firmly to feed pressure where you’re both after it.

Your own action makes you gasp slightly, and you feel how Joe’s hands tighten against your outer thighs, fingers digging into the expanse of fat there as you move against him.

He helps you tilt your hips in little thrusts and, fuck, this already feels so good, he wonders why he tried postponing it.

It’s only fabric dragging over fabric, but your fingers dig into his neck where you hold onto him as your open mouth hovers just in front of his own, your tongue teasing at his lips.

When your hands start sliding down onto his chest, Joe knows what those hands are wandering towards.

He beats you to it.

Curling a hand around from behind, Joe pulls at your underwear to expose you. He has to blow your hair from his face when you still and look down to see what his other hand is about to do.

Joe runs a finger along and through, dipping slowly, carefully testing. He can’t help staring up at your face, wanting to see you react from up close as his fingers find where you’re most sensitive and make you flinch.

“I know,” he soothes, watching your eyebrows crease at his touch. “I know.”

Joe’s touch is teasing, fingertips barely slipping in before he pulls away again, and it doesn’t take long for you to grow impatient. You let a hand slip down along Joe’s stomach until it reaches his underwear to disappear into.

Just before you pull him out to put him on full display, Joe suddenly slips two fingers in fully, making you gasp at how they curl inside. Your head drops back and Joe bites back a chuckle at how he can feel that you’re trying to restrict yourself from moving your hips.

“Yea? That feel nice?”

You nod and breathily confirm.

“Ye– yes.”

It does feel nice. It does. But the high pitched moan that rips from your chest when Joe feeds pressure with his thumb from the outside at the same time surprises you both.

Joe sinks down the sofa more as you tower over him, and he loves this view.

Loves how he gets to slip a hand up your top to see it appear again at your neckline where he can spread his fingers widely around your neck.

Loves how quickly you become unable to keep your head up by yourself, how it tips forwards and back, hair falling every which way.

Loves how he gets to see and feel your chest expand with every ragged breath you take, knowing that every single noise you make is just from how he’s pleasuring you with his fingers.

He wants to make you come like this.

But not before you’ve talked to him.

“Look at me,” Joe urges as his hand finds the back of your head to cradle the weight of it. “Open your eyes.”

You manage to, head tipping forward now, eyes meeting the same intense gaze staring back at you. Your hips are gyrating against Joe’s hand unashamedly now, your hand in his underwear still there but definitely forgotten about.

“That’s it.”

Joe has a way of making intimate situations feel a thousand times more intimate by using his eyes to connect. He makes what could be just easy pleasure and quick release a palpable thing that brings you into the room with him and then keeps you there.

There’s nothing but this.

Nothing but right now.

All other concerning thought gets shoved aside and all you want to do is to stay here. Feel like this forever. Vulnerable, but determined, breath hot and heavy, throat releasing sounds on its own accord. It’s overwhelming in the best of ways, and you can see in Joe’s face that you’re in the same boat.

Teamwork.

Joy shared doubles.

“Yea, yea. Thaaat’s it.” Joe encourages, elongating words, witnessing how you are genuinely trying your hardest at keeping your gaze locked on his. It’s a real task, because your eyes keep wanting to roll back. Keep wanting to unfocus.

“Want you to tell me what’s wrong.” Joe pushes.

Your breath squeaks like you’re in pure agony. Which, in many ways, you are. Yet, somehow, an intense conversation doesn’t feel out of place at all right now. You are as comfortable as you are going to get in this shared vulnerability.

“I don’t,” you say softly, gasping as Joe’s hand feeds more pressure and slows in pace, “I don’t– it’s… it’s just–”

“Just what?” He interrupts. “You just felt sad?”

You nod, because that’s right. But it’s not enough for Joe.

“Why did you feel sad?”

“Scared,” you force out, eyes half-lidded and slowly glassing over. They want to close so fucking badly.

“I was scared.”

“Hey,” Joe taps your cheek and connects his forehead to yours as he pulls you closer to him. You’re quick to blink back into focus, and your hand in Joe’s underwear comes back to life. It makes Joe flinch a little, swearing under his breath as you blindly push his underwear down before his clipped voice asks, “You’re sc–scared?”

Sometimes people take the wrong turn and can’t find their way back on their own.

“Yea, the future… it’s–… the future is–”

“Big and scary?”

“Mmhm.”

“Future is big and scary.”

“Y–yea.”

You’re working hands at each other whilst your foreheads touch, looking each other in the eye until you become blurry, and even though you’ve barely shared anything real, you kind of feel lighter for it already.

Shared sorrow halves.

Joe was right.

“I want–…” you start brokenly, and momentarily Joe thinks you’re about to share more. He’s made you feel safe enough, seems to have pushed you just enough, so it’s not a weird assumption to make.

“Fuck. I want–…” you try again, but your brain’s slowly turning into absolute mush.

“What you do want, baby?”

Instead of answering, you instead grab hold of Joe by the base and guide him towards where his hand is still making you feel good at a steady pace.

You want him inside.

And who is Joe to tell you no at this point?

He sighs, burying his face into the side of your neck as he lets you guide him to where you want to feel him stretch and fill you out fully. You only have to line him up before he shakily seems to lose control of his hips as he pushes up. Both his hands find your hips to dig fingers into soft flesh and you finally reach and pull your top of over your head.

With more skin to look at, and more curves to grab at, Joe doesn’t hold back. Open mouthed kisses leave a wet trail along your chest whilst his hands wander, squeeze and pulling at you all over.

This is what you wanted.

The perfect distraction from it all.

You don’t have to do much work at all with Joe bucking up into you from underneath, and when he puts his hand back to work like it had been before, you start feeling how everything good builds inside rapidly.

Joe concentrates hard on holding off, sparing looks from where he can see himself disappear inside of you, back up to see your blissed out face as he slowly unravels you.

Soft, barely able to really hear, he keeps uttering the words, “That’s it.” over and over as he feels you grow tighter around him.

You feel it coming, and yet, it still surprises you.

You orgasm loudly, louder than either of you expected, prompting Joe to cover your mouth with one of his palms as his hips jerkily work him towards his own orgasm. Completely out of it, you bite into his fingers, and with a broken moan and eyes squeezed tightly shut, Joe spills himself inside of you.

For a moment after, you both catch your breaths, and Joe can feel how you’re still spasming when he pulls out. The second he does, you move to get up, but Joe grabs hold of you before you can leave him. He curls a loving hand along your jaw and cups your face, his fingers around your ear, and you immediately lean your head into his touch with a soft sigh as you close your eyes.

“You okay?” Joe asks tenderly.

“Mmhm.” You ond.

“I think you’re right,” Joe says before he takes a deep breath, and you open your eyes, a little confused at what he means. “The future sort of is big and scary, isn’t it?”

Oh, yea.

You kind of forgot you’d said anything.

“But you know that you don’t have to do the future on your own, right? You’re aware that I’ll be there.” Joe’s not so much asking as he is telling you, his other hand coming to cradle your face on the other side, and all of it is so corny.

“Shared joy doubles, and shared sorrow halve–” you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you, interrupting him. It doesn’t exactly help that you can feel him leaking out of you either.

“I mean it.” He’s dead serious.

“I know you do.”

Joe scans your face as you give him a small smile, and he’s unsure if he should push it further. He kind of feels like he’s pushed you a lot already, and when he looks at you a little longer and sees how your smile slowly grows, he decides: it’s enough.

You turn your face in his hands to kiss inside of his palm, thankful, slow-blinking and at ease.

Makes him smile in return.

Yea, it’s enough.

the end

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The Taglisted

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Add yourself

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

shattered glass B-127

[royaltea000]

POV they just told their da shixiong on you

[lucabyte]

Perceptive kid, I wonder just how much they pretend not to overhear.

[mikqchoux]

Imagine if he started getting scared of bridges too

[sentient-forest]

#cecilsweep and Welcome to Night Vale trending #1 in 2023

[broresteia]

this time a calvin n hobbes-esq cover!

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Finarfin Fades.

No one expects it, no one’s faded in Valinor since Miriel. The War of Wrath is won and he comes back, waving off the courtiers, well wishers, and congratulators with his usual grace, and walks into the palace of Tirion. To rooms abandoned since their owners left so long ago. Winding deeper and deeper his feet take him to what was once Finwë’s favourite garden.

He’s so tired.

He’s fulfilled his promise to Fëanaro and Nolofinwë, to avenge them. To make the agony of their final moments - agony Finarfin felt, falling to the floor screaming as fire and darkness consumed his spirit - count for something. Now Morgoth is finally gone, but he’s not the only one.

His brothers, larger than life, larger than death, are gone. With them his sons. Niece. Nephews. Grandchildren. His daughter is never to return. He Saw little Nelyo’s death in his dreams and is sure hopes for the child’s own sake that Makalaurë will be close behind.

Little remains. Even less on these golden shores.

So Finarfin sits on a bench long overgrown with vines and weeds, and watches the sun filter through the thicket, wishing the ghosts he sees in his father’s garden would flesh out.

He sits. He waits.

And by the time anyone finds him, it’s too late.

…at least he’s smiling again.

[buggachat]

(random s5 finale musings) tbh I don't think Marinette chose to keep The Secrets™ from Adrien because Gabriel asked her to. I feel like Marinette keeping secrets like that is so consistent with her character; she hates giving people bad news, she hates rocking the boat, she hates upsetting people, she always chooses to keep any 'controversial' information to herself for as long as she can get away with (examples: bubbler scarf, telling Queen Bee she was benched, confessing to Adrien, warning Chat Noir about Scarabella or Rena Furtive, never told Chat Noir about Chat Blanc, etc) that I just totally believe she would've done it either way. She was even already having nightmares about Adrien hating her for finding out she defeated his father, so I feel like Gabriel's request was moreso giving her a go-ahead than it was a primary deciding factor, yknow?

[ask-the-pioneer]

Out of curiosity why do you bow before eating?

"It's a sign of respect."

"When I kill to eat, I know I am taking a life. I do it out of necessity. The creature's life moves to me so that I can survive and prosper. With this gesture, I pay tribute to its sacrifice."

"The bow is also to acknowledge the work of a person who brought the food, to feed me and the others. You're not pressured to do that, but even if the meal isn't to your liking, you would still recognize the effort. Our colony was small, with Hunter as the only adult, so any food brought back was celebrated."

"In my later cycles, the ability to craft explosive spears became incredibly useful for hunting and self-defense. I had a natural advantage, but it was to be exercised with caution."

"Truth is, I can do a lot of damage with my «powers». It's a big, alienating responsibility. And it was an issue in my younger cycles when I couldn't control it well - sometimes people around me would get hurt, but despite that, I was shown kindness and given guidance by my mentor. My adoptive family did not treat me like a freak, and it mattered a lot to me. It still does."

"I feel no need for bloodlust. I am content with my life… for the most part. Whatever grievances I may have, I know it's bad to take it out on others. For the temporary relief it gives, you realize it really is not worth it. To kill for sport, it makes my stomach turn - a sad waste of life. Just because I can, doesn't mean I should. Cruel thoughts are the domain of a scared animal. I don't want to live in suffering because of such fear, and most of all I don't want my family to think less of me. Does that make sense? I wouldn’t want to disappoint them, or lose their trust…"

"When I hunt for food, I often think of what my mentor would say. Those thoughts guide my spears, the memories remind me to be kind in the face of the vast, indifferent world. Most of the creatures out there have it considerably worse than me, trying to survive nature day by day. I've been blessed with a mark, I know things that a typical slugcat would never need in their life. I don't think I can ever go back - knowledge, like my «powers», are both a blessing and a curse. And, dare I say, I think it is better that I have those powers… for I know, at the very least, that I trust myself to use them wisely."

"The bow is a sign of respect, and a gentle reminder of the things that I stand for."

[intotheelliwoods]

FUSION FIGHT FUSION FIGHT! <- <-

@dianagj-art The fusions are fighting!!! Because hey funny story, their first meeting does not go to well 😌It was SUPPOSED to be a friendly spar.. more details in my tags vvv

[icallhimjoey]

oh, you made me cry with that new fic you did

[pedrasacorn]

Jason knows how to read people extremely well, so he’s the type to clock your crush on him immediately, and then gaslight himself out of it—actually he doesn’t even let himself consciously acknowledge it

God also imagine how intense the eye contact would be when he catches you looking, when he finally acknowledges your feelings, and he holds your gaze because he knows—and you’re so beautiful—and you hold his gaze because you want to know—and he’s so beautiful

It’s difficult to get Jason’s undivided attention, because he mentally splits his focus everywhere, to make sure nothing can catch him off guard.

His intense focus on you means nothing—not even his safety or comfort—matters enough in this moment to deter him from looking at you

[mellosdrawings]

Oh love your losers forever number 2 group doodles. Seeing the doodles, I realized Leona and Vil are together longer than with Jamil.

Well, even on the off-chance that they weren't already dating before, they've still known each other for a while longer, while Jamil was off in his corner pretending to be mid and trying not to attract attention.

In both cases, Leona and Vil would already have their own habits/banter and Jamil, who is barely getting used to standing out and competing against "higher status" people, would take more time to feel comfortable.

(I have paragraphs of potential dynamics between those three, I could talk about them for hours haha)

[stardella]

Making fanart for my own espilver fanfic? Couldn’t be me :/

Next to you, I laid softly on this hard ground on Ao3

[bluerosefox]

Hmmmm... This one and this one I guess -digs through old AU/Prompts ideas and starts tossing them into a melting pot to make something new-

Royal errors, maybe Ghost King (Or just very powerful and respected by the Infinite Realms) Danny, AND deaged Dan and Ellie. With half-sibling Damian.

Talia is a woman with many, many secrets, this is a cold hard fact.

She has so many secrets its no wonder not a single living soul knows them all...

So when seventeen, almost eighteen, Damian really shouldn't had been surprised (he was though) when out of the blue he gets a call from an unknown number that somehow bypasses his firewalls against unknown numbers about his apparent five year old half-sister and brother Helen 'Ellie' Fenton and Dante 'Dan' Fenton.

That their father, Daniel Fenton was taken (by a shady should had been disbanded government agency) and they couldn't get a hold of their mother Talia at all (she was in a middle of stopping a coup happening, a rival assassin group, AND some idiots trying to revive Ra's at the same time, thus radio silent). About how Ellie and Dan were in danger of being taken as well but they needed to put in them a safe place so they could go rescue Danny before word gets out to... well lets just say some very POWERFUL beings weren't going to be happy and they are working on very limited time to get him back.

Jasmine Fenton tells him she knows he had no clue about his mother being with her brother and having kids with him, its something she and Talia often got into small arguments about but try not to bring it up to often around Danny, Dan, or Ellie, and that his relationship with her is often... rocky but she begs him to please watch over them while she, and her brother's best friends go a rescue mission for him.

That they were two very scared five year olds that had to watch their father be taken away after he barely managed to get them to safety and that Damian was the only one she could think of being able to watch over and least protect them at this serious moment.

Damian, and the rest of the family, are stunned silent when Jasmine finishes explaining, her voice on the verge of breaking and no doubt she was trying so hard not to sob.