#He feels so smug about it

[marathehomosexual]

to me Ed's happiest memory is not his marriage or the birth of his children, is the moment he out smarted god and got away with it

FMA is fascinating because there aren't many works about what it means to be an atheist and a heretic to a god that you can not only see, but who has personally snatched body parts off of your living body and made fun of you for it.

[royalarchivist]

Dono: All men do is lie.

Fit: That is not true! We mostly lie. But not always.

Fit: I am likely gonna be streaming on Friday as well! [Stammers] I cant' tell you what that's gonna be, but it'll be interesting! I'm not lying, by the way. No, I am not lying. [Reading chat] "Fit, you said Hideduo reunion"? Well, you know... I dunno if it's ever gonna happen, folks! I dunno if it's ever gonna happen. Y'know, why– I wouldn't wanna get your hopes up for... something that may never happen, so... You know, why– why even entertain the idea? Why?

Fit: You can trust me. I would never lie to you. It's not happening, folks. It's not happening.

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the biggest things that makes me see Leo as trans is absolutely the size of his carapace in comparison to his brothers’.

And I’m not talking about height! I’m specifically looking at his shell here, because when you compare him to the others, particularly Donnie who is nearly the same height as Leo, it’s very clear that Leo’s carapace is much longer in proportion to the rest of his body.

Like - standing side by side, even though Donnie is shorter his carapace ends noticeably higher up than Leo’s does. And I like this not only because it really helps push the idea that Leo could very likely be trans (or intersex!), but it’s also just a fun design difference between them.

(It also lends way to future scenarios of Donnie eventually getting taller than Leo, but sitting down still has Leo being the taller one haha.)

[go6jo]

childhood friend karasu who throughout the years you've witnessed jump from one relationship to another despite the obvious feelings that are left unaddressed between the two of you. there is this tangible tension, one that grows substantial with time, with each relationship you watch him get into. and you're somewhat aware of your feelings towards each other yet neither of you own up to it.

you will often show up to his front door on a short notice, to hang out on the occasions that you were coincidentally driving past his house after work. more often than not, however, he'll open the door with his shirt slung over his shoulder, and if you took a peak inside you'd notice some girl, one that looks nothing like you, whose features couldn't be more distinct from your own, sprawled on the couch of his living room, her hair a mess, lipstick smeared all over her lips down to her chest, smudges of red disappearing under the collar of her shirt that's riding dangerously up her stomach. more often than not, too, he'll smirk at the way you look away from the scene in front of you, trying to act unfazed, how you try, to no avail, to conceal the frustration that shows in the furrow of your brows. jealousy, it reads on your face - it's written all over it, even a blind man could see it. "wanna join?" but you've already started walking away and tabito thinks he knows the answer, anyways. (you've never been one for sharing, not ever since you were a child and as he watches you leave there’s a certain tenderness that settles in his chest, that softens the smirk on his face into a subtle smile, one of affection upon realising that, when it comes to him, you never really stopped behaving like the little girl he knew and grew up with, the little girl who had always wanted him all to herself.)

you watch as girls grind up against him at the club everytime go out together. he’s grown handsome, you reckon, (more handsome now at 20 than 14 year old you would ever thought he’d turn out to be.), drawing some attention, girls naturally flocking to him - something you’re still not used to. him being the object of other people’s affection. you having to share. your eyes meet across the room - you stare at him in silent revulsion, as an affront when he lets them cling onto him, smirking at you over the girl's shoulder as she starts kissing up his neck, feeling him up, her manicured nails grazing down his chest. what are you gonna do about it, he mouths at you in defiance. like clockwork, you pretend that you didn't take notice of his disappearance, that you didn't feel a knot in your stomach as you watched some girl drag him into the bathroom with her and when it's time to leave, you pretend you don't notice that the buttons at the top of his shirt are undone - that he's breathless and his pupils are blown wide. you get in his car and he drives you both home - to his place - then you get inside and you both pretend like there is nothing to be said. you slip out of your heels and you curse him quietly when he walks past you into the living room. "you're an asshole, tabito" but there isn't any malice to it, it's meek in a way. sad and hopeless. he just scoffs in fake amusement, discarding of his shirt and throwing it in the couch. all of his witty qualities, any energy he might've had to retort with a cheeky remark began to fade as soon as he had walked through the front door. he always found it harder to play pretend in the silence of his home, away from all the buzz, where the feelings you've both been negleting for way too long begin to weigh heavy in the athmosphere. there's a certain bitterness hanging in the air as he adjusts himself on the couch to settle for the night, as you walk into his room and lock the door behind you. neither of you have the energy to argue anymore. you used to fight on nights like these, “does it bother you that much?”, he'd ask once the dust begins to settle with his forehead touching yours, holding your chin so you couldn’t avert your gaze away from him. “could be you, you know?”. he tells you as he kisses your cheek, left then right, on each corner of your mouth, dangerously close to your lips then holds your head against his chest. he could be so sweet, so convincing. you used to fight but that was before, when you still thought it was worth a shot, that this was worth fighting for - whatever this was. "just say the word and i’m yours, baby.”

liar. he’s pretending to care when he squeezes your hand a little tighter in his as soon as he begins to feel you grow restless as you struggle to engage in conversation with his friends, too afraid to intrude yet too scared of looking bored as they talk football tactics (you had just wanted to spend some time with him after a whole week of being too busy to hang out). faking the kindness in his smile, too, as he tries his best to put you at ease. they like, you know, he tells you once you leave, eita’s told me you should give him a call if you’re ever done being friends with me. he’s only feigning sympathy when he offers to rub your feet after a long day, when he kneads your calves as your legs rest over his on the couch. he’s pretending to be attentive when he rubs up and down your arms as you stand in line together to keep you cosy on a particular chilly day, lwhen he tells cashier your coffee order that he has memorized by heart, when he brings your hands up to his lips and blows some warmth into them, sharing some of his heat after your coffees run cold in your grasp, definitely only acting suave when he presses his lips ever so softly against the skin of your forehead to check your temperature when, on the following day, you tell him you might be getting sick.

so you refused to yield. you've loved him for as long as you can remember yet still you never wavered in your decision to refuse to surrender to him. he's all you've ever known, for the longest time you watched him jump from one relationship to another thinking that someday when he grew older, more mature, he'd stop playing these games with you. so you waited, you waited until you realised that maybe you'd never see the end of it, that maybe he just enjoyed being chased, enjoyed how suscetible you were to his provocations, thrived on your silent jealosy — he must have thought it was flattering. he's always loved to pick on those weaker than him, to feel like he has the upper hand while picking on their weaknesses and yours just so happens to be him. you don't think he ever means it when he says he'd be yours, that he'll drop his current girlfriend if you ask him to, if only you tell him you want him. to admit such a thing, however, you think, would be to akin to handing him the gun with which you he’ll make you meet your demise. it is a scary thing to have someone hold that power over you, the power to destroy you if they so desire. so you won't surrender, it hurts enough already as it is.

but he has needs, he tells you, (teases you), and if you won’t indulge him he will have someone else tend to them. and karasu does try to enjoy their company to a certain extent - pretends to make love to you through them. pretends it's your tongue he's sucking on, your whines, your scent, your touch. and even though he purposefully chooses girls that look nothing like you, he manages to get into it so long as he keeps his eyes shut. his relationships never go past the three month mark, though. Karasu does just enough to keep the entertained, kisses them nice and slow so they feel cared for, feels and gropes them over their clothes while whispering all kinds of dirty things into their ears, all the things he will do to them (all the things he’d like to do to you) and for a while those empty promises are enough to keep them around. he knows what women want and knows how to keep them on their toes. it never goes past that, though. it never lasts much longer once he begins rejecting their every advance because as soon as they start kissing down his chest, their fingers sneaking past the waistband of his underwear, he is grabbing their wrists while glancing down at them with a dangerous look on his face. it’s not long before they start whining at him, telling him he’s no fun and leave through the front door, never to be seen again. then he’s left to think of you. it was fun for a while, to introduce you to all of these different girls and watch you act friendly with them only for you to let your frustrations out on him as soon as the two of you were alone. it sort of amused him, really. for quite some time, your jealousy had been enough for Tabito, it'd been enough reassurance of the feelings you still harboured for him after all these years. it was proof that you desired him and maybe if your desire was strong enough, maybe you wouldn’t notice that he’s not that special after all. that there is nothing exceptional about him, not a secret quirk or any hidden talent or passion besides football - not much to give, not much to love. he had relied on all these girls who blindly craved him so hopefully you, too, would find him worthy of love, your love. but it's been too long now and you’re both adults and he's tired of playing this game of cat and mouse and you might probably think he's the worst person alive by now so it's no use trying to convince you of his feelings for you either. and how could he blame you for it, really? for not trusting him when all he has done for the past years is deceive you.

then he goes off to paris and he begins to take his relationships more seriously, as a way to actively work towards getting over you. he’s sparking all kind of dating rumours when he’s seen leaving practice with a french model under his arm. you haven’t heard of him for over a year and you see the pictures all over social media. on the first picture of the sequence you can tell he’s just left practice because his skin is covered in a wet sheen of sweat. he's smiling and his jersey is clinging to his torso almost a bit too provocatively (you're sure he'd bask in the praise of the people on the comment section complimenting his physique) and you can’t help but notice the way the sleeves are a little too tight around his arms, he has put on some muscle since the last time you saw him - he looks so handsome and hes a lot stronger and you miss him so much. you smile fondly at your screen but your smile begins to falter as you scroll through the pictures and theres an image of a blonde handing him a bottle of water while he noses at her cheek affectionately, in gratitude you think, another picture capturing a more intimate moment where he’s holding her head to his chest as he drinks from the bottle and you don't think you've ever seen him be this genuinely gentle towards anyone before, anyone but you. there is an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, you feel sick — it’s the first time you’re truly scared of losing him. you call him almost instantly - instinctively. you don’t know what to say if he picks up, you don’t even know if you want him to pick up, you don't even know why you’re calling him but you feel nauseous and your vision is blurry from all the tears that are threating to spill and its taking him way too long to pick up. you have half a mind to hang up when you hear his voice on the other end and you start sobbing, unable to form any cohesive sentences, apologizing to him instead, over and over again.

“hi, bab-“ it should've felt comforting to know that even after all this time his voice is still gentle when talking to you, that he'll never stop calling you baby - that you're still his baby.

“sorry.” you say in between hiccups “im sorry. please, tabito. im so sorry. dont do this, please.”

he wants to say he has no idea what you're talking about, that he's happy now, happy with her that he never once wondered how you'd react once the news reached you on the other side of the globe. he pretends he can't feel his heart aching in his chest at your crying fit because he'd dreamed of a moment like this - where you'd call him crying, begging for him. you'd always been so tough that he thought it'd be somewhat sweet to watch you finally break - he didn't foresee this though. feeling this gutted, this miserable at the weak sound of your voice, hating himself this much. he never thought things would reach such dimensions, could never imagine the depths of your feelings for him, that you'd hurt so much for him. its breaks his heart. he aches for you yet he finds you ache for him just as much.

"hey." he hushes. “i won’t, baby. i won’t, okay?”

his words seem to soothe you and he lets you cry for a little longer until your sobs gradually begin to fade on the other side of the line until it's mostly quiet. he runs a hand through his hair, unsure of what to tell you, of what to do.

“you have got to give me something here, pretty.” he can feel you grow agitated again as he listens to your quivering breath. “i need to know what you want.”

it's silent again until you begin to sob quietly, trying to get the words out. “i need you, please. don’t do this.”

“you’re hurting me, tabito.”

you sound so small, childish almost and he loathes it. he loves you and he doesn't want to see you hurt anymore, not for him. he loves you so much, so much, but he’d been so worried you’d see through him, that you'd deem him insignificant - so focused on making you love him. all this time he forgot about making you feel loved in return, cared for.

"your address still the same?" he wants to hold you, he thinks. to kiss your face while whispering sweet nothings onto your ear, again, again and again until you believe it when he tells you he loves you. he hears a sound of confirmation coming from you and he adjusts himself on the couch, a arm folding behind his neck for support, waiting for your breaths to even out and he tells you he’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. he stays and he completely forgets about the blonde sleeping in his bed next door.

a few days go by and you feel stupid for thinking that maybe he’d come to visit you, that he'd come to kiss away your tears and tell you that he wants to be with you, he’ll stay in japan just to be with you (you'd innocently dreamed of it. that his love for you would make him stay, your councious mind tells you that you'd never overcome that guilt, though. you'd never want to stall him, to ruin the bright future he has ahead of him. so instead, you choose to dream of a love that's enough to bind you two together despite however many miles might stand between the two of you.) you watch him on television and he shines on the field and you engrave that same image into the back of your mind because you think that’s the last you’ll ever see of him. but one day, two weeks after the call, when you’ve come to terms with the fact that maybe he’s not coming, he shows up at your doorstep and all you can do is drop your head onto his chest — surrendering, to him, in the sweetest submission. something so docile, so earnest it has his chest aching in adoration. there are no ulterior motives to your touches as you run your hands down the expanse of his arms only to finally link your fingers with his when you reach his hands. no other reason besides the fact that you want to touch him, feel him. he’s here and that’s enough. he’d been gone for so long that, for now, you won’t demand anything more of him except for his touch. it feels innocent again, mellow like when you were kids — uncomplicated. it feels overly sweet when you look up at him with honeyed eyes and hold his face in the palms of your hands getting on the tip of your toes to place a lingering kiss in the corner of his mouth, both of you with your eyes softly closed. then you move with uncertainty to brush your lips against his. it’s only then that he reacts, that he snaps out oh his reverie and grabs your face in his hands to put some distance between you. just enough so that he can look you in the eye, just enough to gain back his composure.

“no.” he locks eyes with you, holding you firmly in place. he kisses the furrow of your brows in a soothing manner, in reassurance at the look of betrayal on your face. “say it, baby.”

he looks down to traces a finger over the collar of your night dress and there a certain eagerness to his words, to the way he leans his forehead against yours and his chest is heaving in antecipation. he wanted to kiss you, too. and it fills you with courage.

“just make me your girlfriend, tabito,” you sigh “please.”

and it feels good to surrender. to be held in his arms as he kisses you slow, longingly. i have very little to offer you. the hands that roam your body and slide up your thighs under the fabric of your dress want to say. it’s enough, the hands that hold him closer to you whisper. you’re enough.

“you say it, now.” you pull away from him, breathless. “say it’s only ever been me.”

“yeah, baby. yeah.” he closes his eyes as he chuckles lovingly at the determination in your eyes and holds your head to his chest, close to his heart. (still not quite close enough.) “you’re my girl. you’ve always been my girl.”

[thegreatyin]

ive officially entered the stage of OC brainrot where i start putting him in outfits for fun and (zero) profit

[rozeliyawashereyall]

ungators your Timothy

He's a hunter now /hj

@obsidian-lantern

[cometconnector]

do you guys like my new pfp

hii werewolf tommy kinard.. welcome to my brain..

[gojoest]

ai i’m thinking so hard about going to a party w satoru and gets a boner watching you and texts you "come sit on it" *pulling my hair out*

he is shameless….sitting on the couch, staring at you from across the room and when your eyes lock after you read the message he spreads his legs and points at his lap. there are other people around him of course and they all notice the bulge in his pants after following his gesturing hand and looking down….not that he cares, in fact he’s proud to spread some awareness and let them know who takes care of him ;)

[srnileforme]

“Your mentor is so easy to read. He's obviously jealous.” Winny Thanawin as Q and Satang Kittiphop as Toey.

WE ARE (2024) | EPISODE 9

[frumfrumfroo]

People still making posts about how reylo is '100%' just people who want to self-insert to fuck the 'bad boy' in the Year of Our Lord 2024.

When will I know peace.

[billdenbrough]

cannot possibly express enough how strange this one is. ok. @naturecalls111 prompted me (technically for microfic monday, but it was quickly determined to be untenable) kevaaron + frogs. there was an additional, informal element to the prompt she wanted that rocketed it from 488w (already egregious) to 1.6k (don't look at me), but i'm already wrestling with my psyche enough abt this one lmao. we'll leave that part to be a surprise so i don't have to think about it anymore HAHA. i guess. anyway. kevaaron + frogs, for mina.

“This is your fault,” Aaron says.

Kevin is affronted. “How could this be my fault!”

“Nobody cares enough about what I do to curse me,” Aaron points out, huffy. As huffy as a frog can be, anyway. “But you? Absolutely. You’re also really annoying.”

Kevin sulks.

“How sure are you?” Neil asks, following Nicky into the room. “I mean. Frogs?”

Nicky gives him an incredulous look, then snatches Kevin off the desk. Kevin makes the world’s most indignant croak, which everyone rudely ignores, except Aaron, who rolls his eyes.

“He has a queen mark,” Nicky exclaims, brandishing Kevin at Neil. “What kind of frog has a tattoo?”

Neil stares at it, then sighs. “Okay. Sure. Why not. So it’s Kevin. How do you know it’s Aaron with him?”

“Kevin wouldn’t leave without him, so it had to be one of us,” Nicky explains. Kevin thinks this is an optimistic reading of his character. “Which already probably meant Aaron, but I’ve confirmed he’s the only one also missing. So.”

“How did this happen?” Neil muses, sitting down on Kevin’s bed. His bed is right there. Kevin strongly considers kicking him. Except he doesn’t have the right feet.

Almost immediately after he has that thought, his mouth opens—without his express permission—and his tongue goes flying, a projectile aimed right at Neil’s face.

Neil barely manages to dodge, throwing up his arms and falling backwards quickly enough that Kevin’s tongue narrowly misses his skin. (Thank God.) 

Nicky squawks, dropping Kevin, who thankfully lands on the desk. Aaron is watching Neil with interest. And Kevin—

Kevin is just pleased his aim and ability to forcibly correct Neil’s behaviour is still intact.

“Oh, gross,” Nicky complains. Neil looks relatively unruffled, though he shoots Kevin a slight glare before moving to his own bed. Thank you.

“Yep, that’s Kevin,” Neil mutters. “I wonder how Aaron got wrapped up in this.”

Nicky cocks his head.

“Assuming turning people into frogs is a real thing—which, okay, yeah—then I have to assume it doesn’t happen randomly,” Neil says. “And as annoying as Aaron can be—” Aaron rolls his eyes. Again. “—It’s gotta be Kevin, right? The reason?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Nicky says immediately. Which is so rude.

“Maybe they were together?” Neil muses aloud.

“Or it’s like a fairytale,” Nicky says. At Neil’s confused—and slightly judgemental—look, he elaborates, “You know, like, The Frog Prince! Or The Frog Princess! Or—that movie coming out, the Princess and the Frog!”

“This is too many frogs,” Neil mutters, but looks attentive. “So what’s the common theme? Other than frogs.”

“You know, normal fairytale stuff,” Nicky says, waving his hands through the air. On the desk beside Kevin, Aaron has gone still. It’s weird that Kevin can tell—it’s not like Aaron was especially mobile in the moments prior, after all—but paying attention to Aaron isn’t that big of a surprise, these days. “True love’s kiss, all that.”

Neil goes still too.

Aaron is looking at Kevin, gaze watchful, eyes intent.

Kevin looks away. Unfortunately, this means he’s looking at Neil, who is observing him with a calculating expression. At least Neil can’t expect a response, Kevin thinks. Small victories.

“Well,” Neil says. Kevin assumes he’s talking to Nicky—as strange as Neil is, conversing with a frog is probably out of even his realm of behaviour—but he’s still looking at Kevin. Ugh. “That might explain it.”

“Huh?” Nicky asks.

Kevin cannot look at Neil anymore.

Aaron is still looking at him.

“Neil frequently has bad ideas,” Kevin says, a pre-emptive defence.

“I don’t disagree,” Aaron says. It’s fucking weird. He’s a frog. Green and disproportionate legs—maybe he should try keep those when they get back to normal, Kevin thinks, suddenly daydreaming of a genuinely tall defence line; and then his thoughts shift a little to the left, Aaron’s knobbly knees but now they’re green and his calves are endless, pressing against Kevin, and wow, okay, Kevin is shelving that one before he gets too anatomically-confused, what the fuck—but still so Aaron. It still feels the same, him looking at Kevin, and now there’s something in Kevin’s throat to swallow past. He’s not even sure if he still has a throat, technically.

Neil and Nicky are still talking in the background, a buzzing noise that Kevin can’t focus on.

“Fairytales aren’t real,” Kevin says.

“We are frogs,” Aaron enunciates. Which is a reasonable counterpoint.

“This is ridiculous,” Kevin mutters.

“Kevin,” Aaron says. This is going to do something insane to Kevin’s dreams, he thinks, dismayed. Aaron croaking his name, and it being completely understandable. Life is so hard.

“Ugh,” Kevin says. His tongue goes flying past, apparently the frog equivalent of throwing one’s arms up in exasperation.

Aaron watches it go past, then looks at Kevin. If they were normal, he thinks Aaron’s eyebrow would be raised, or face tilted to the side, or something to that effect. People don’t think of either twin as especially expressive, but Kevin knows Aaron’s face, has mapped all its mountains and shifting planes. He misses it, suddenly, fiercely. More than the consistent pulse of exasperation and disbelief at their situation, the underlying desire to get back to normal. It’s an active, immediate thing: he wants to see Aaron’s face again, a deep-seated ache.

“Careful,” Aaron says. “If you keep throwing that tongue around, I won’t let you put it in my mouth.”

Kevin chokes. His tongue tangles itself on the way back into his mouth, his eyes bulge, and he makes a sputtering noise. Neil and Nicky don’t even pause their discussion.

If there’s a way for a frog to look calm in the wake of their friend (?)—also a frog—almost dying in response to an implication of flirtation, Aaron does.

“Aaron,” Kevin wheezes, once he’s got his tongue safely back inside his mouth and has reminded himself how to be a person.

“Kevin,” Aaron returns. He sounds so calm. So sure. And Kevin still knows him, down to his bones, but in this body, he can’t figure out his tells as easily. He can’t watch the movement of his knee, the furrow of his brows, the curling of his fingers into a fist. There’s no jaw to tighten, no hair to run his hands through, and while he still has eyes, they’re not ones that Kevin has memorised the way they soften.

“Is that a joke?” Kevin asks.

“We’re frogs,” Aaron reminds him. “We’re already the joke.” Before Kevin can decide how he feels about that, Aaron says, “Kissing you? Sure. Why not. Worth a shot.”

“Why not,” Kevin echoes. “Worth a shot.”

Aaron looks at him again. Kevin thinks maybe this is what it looks like for a frog’s eyes to soften, but who knows? Maybe he’s just looking for what he wants to see.

God, this whole thing is fucking ridiculous, but maybe the most unsettling part has been realising how much he misses seeing Aaron’s face. He’s gone longer without seeing it, obviously, it’s just—he’s never had to look at Aaron without it being Aaron. He can’t explain it better than that.

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind,” Aaron says suddenly, “if it were a fairytale.”

Kevin blinks. (Oh, that was weird.) He thinks that over.

“Oh,” he says, then smiles. He thinks he smiles. He’s not really sure what his mouth is doing. It’s unnervingly large in relation to the rest of his body.

“Oh,” Aaron echoes, but he hops closer. One hop. Two. His legs are very strong, Kevin notes, but then he stops thinking about it, because Aaron is really close.

Kevin cannot believe he’s maybe—probably—almost certainly—about to kiss Aaron for the first time. And they’re fucking frogs.

Kevin hops that last step, moving in closer.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes again. Kevin has never seen a frog do that before, though jury’s out as to whether that’s because normal frogs can’t, or because Aaron Minyard brings a level of exasperation previously unknown amongst the species.

Kevin leans in, and kisses him. It’s the weirdest sensation he’s ever had—their bodies are approximately 30% mouth right now, which is a lot to deal with—but then Aaron’s mouth is open a little, and Kevin’s weird, powerful tongue darts in and tangles with Aaron’s.

This is fucking insane, Kevin thinks, and then there’s a sudden whoosh of air through the room, and suddenly the desk crashes and he and Aaron are sprawled across each other on the floor.

Human.

And naked.

“Oh my god,” Nicky says. “You’re back!” And then, tilting his head at Kevin, “And naked.”

“We’re leaving,” Neil announces, grabbing Nicky by the elbow and tugging him out of the room. His expression is dismayed. “I don’t want to see you today,” he says over his shoulder, which Kevin would like to apply to Aaron, but probably mostly means him.

Aaron is beneath Kevin, which luckily means his modesty is protected, given his usual hangups (Aaron and Neil often tell Kevin that it’s not that everyone else has hangups, but that Kevin is entirely too open with nudity; Kevin largely ignores this); unfortunately, it does mean Kevin landed on him, and now he’s groaning.

Kevin gets off him, then looks at him. At his face. God. He missed that face.

“Why are you staring at me?” Aaron grumbles.

“After everything that just happened, that’s your question?” Kevin asks, incredulous. Fucking fond, because of course it is.

“Everything else has a root cause of you being annoying,” Aaron says. “This—”

Kevin leans in, cupping Aaron’s jaw with one hand.

Aaron shuts up.

“Take a guess,” Kevin says. His voice is – soft. Too soft to hide behind.

There’s so much going on Aaron’s face, eyes quick, expressive, roving all over Kevin’s, taking him in, figuring him out. Then his expression clears.

“You’re so annoying,” Aaron says, and then he surges up and kisses Kevin.

It’s much better, Kevin thinks, getting to do this as them.

[kineticallyanywhere]

Monkey’s Paw pages 133-136 ( START HERE || ao3 || previous || next ) AU after episode 62. The Omega Dads try a more desperate gambit, but   careful what you wish for. Our dads find alternate versions of themselves in a strange dreamscape. Ifyou die in the dream, doyou die in real life?

...heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy

[13eyond13]

underrated funny thing about lawlight is they never actually did get to confirm that 100% of the time they were basically thinking exactly what the other person thought they were thinking every single time

[shima-draws]

Grips my shirt and tears it apart so that all the buttons go flying and SCREAMS I love Law and Cora so much what the FUCK!!!!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hi ari.. i am still sick 🐑 Ive promise i will get back to sending in more of my thoughts when i can actually put them together without my mind falling apart immediately ☹️ but lately my sluggish mind has been thinking about satoru .. so maybe you can share some of your thoughts on him ? could be anything ! i just rlly like hearing about him .. i hope you’re doing well and as always don’t push yourself too hard <3 make sure you’re taking care of yourself

LAMBNON :(((………. please take care of yourself!!!!!! don’t worry about sending asks, you should know i care about your health more than anything !!!!!! please drink lots of tea and take painkillers and sleep as much as you can …. also soup. eat soup.

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND >:3 sweet satoru thoughts….. wahhhhhh i was just thinking about him this morning but. i don’t know if you’re an introvert or an extrovert lambnon…… hopefully the former………. cuz i was thinking about how gojo was literally made for an introverted s/o . i think he would be so perfect. maybe even more than sugu tho i can’t explain why…

just . he really is so mature, you know ???? in an emotional sense . even if he doesn’t come off that way lmao ….. he may be loud and friendly but he can tell who appreciates it and who doesn’t. and i think he would really love being more quiet with you :’) or just talking while you listen !!!!! he’s your personal radio talk show host ….. you’re just nodding along with a smile . and he finds it so endearing. he also gets a very good sense of your social battery — and GODDDD he’s so good with you when it runs out. guides you away from crowds and parties and the like soso smoothly!!!!!! if you want to hear his voice he’ll talk, otherwise he’ll be a silent comfort . jokes about you getting tuckered out so quickly but he enjoys the fact that you have to lean on him a lil.

since he’s naturally very extroverted, i think he finds your differences precious ….. really loves learning more about you . honestly everything that is you is charming to him ……. but i do think he has a big soft spot for quiet little guys . esp if you happen to be on the shy side ……. he’ll try to guide you out of your comfort zone every now and then but he’s careful not to push too far. he’s a people person at heart!!!!

[sophiethewitch1]

You mentioned that all the Wayne's post thirst traps. And that Damian's are like Victorian women showing some racy ankle. What does he consider a thirst trap then.

Have you ever seen a man in a dark turtle neck sweater.