#J speaks

[meangirls-imagines]

I am hurt. I am full of rage. I am physically sick every time I open Twitter. To anyone feeling the same thing I am after last night, if you need someone to talk to, my DMs are always open. We will get through this. We will fight. We will not go back. It’s okay to rot in bed, to be depressed. If you’re feeling suicidal, these are some numbers that won’t contact police. And remember:

Trans rights MATTER.

Women’s rights MATTER.

Black Lives MATTER.

Equal Marriage rights MATTER.

LGBTQIA+ rights MATTER.

BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS MATTER.

[indecision-s]

i need the people in my life to stop 😁 commenting 😁 on 😁 my 😁 body 😁 !!!!1!!

[stepbrorafe]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Rafe’s head snaps in your direction, his gaze harsh as he stares at you. You meet his eyes, your heart racing as you take in his expression. He’s furious.

“Are you serious right now?” He snaps, his body towering over you.

You’ve been misbehaving all day. From making smart comments to doing exactly what he tells you not to. It’s not that you want to defy him, you just want his attention.

He’s been busy for the past couple of weeks, so you’ve not been getting his undivided attention like you usually do. Maybe you’re being a brat, but you can’t help it. Sometimes, you just want him all to yourself.

You don’t say anything, your lips pulling down into a pout. His hand reaches forward, roughly gripping your jaw.

“The fuck are you acting like this for?” He questions, “Tryna cause a scene in front of my friends? S’that it?”

“No.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Then why are you doing this shit?” He grits, jerking your face to keep your attention on him.

His friends stare with wide eyes from behind him, not daring to intervene. They’ve learned the hard way as to not tempt Rafe when he’s in moods like this with you.

“Think you need to be taught a lesson.”

You look up at him with doe eyes, “Rafe-“

He tsks, “Nah, y’know what my name is.”

Your eyes flicker from his to his friends, the two of them quickly averting their attention elsewhere.

“M’sorry dad.” You whine, practically stomping your feet.

“Yeah.. That’s right.” He speaks, his voice sickly sweet. “Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna go upstairs like a good little girl.. And I want you to be naked by the time I get up there. M’gonna fuck you silly, and if you’re good, dad just might let you cum.”

Your thighs clench at his words, your stomach tightening at the thought. You feel your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, knowing you’re in for it.

“Fuck are you waiting for?” He’s raises his eyebrows, “Go.”

The second his hand releases your face, you’re quickly sprinting up the stairs to your shared bedroom. His sarcastic chuckle rings through your ears as he turns to kick his friends out.

As soon as you enter the bedroom, you’re fumbling to get your clothes off in a timely fashion. You know he’s pissed, you don’t want to make it worse by not being ready for him like he said.

The second you’re fully nude, you sit at the end of the bed and place your hands on your legs. It feels like forever has passed as you wait for him, though it’s only been a minute or so. Soon enough, he saunters in the room with a devious look in his eyes.

He shuts the bedroom door without a word, turning to observe you as you quietly stare up at him. Slowly stepping forward, he pulls his shirt over his head. Your eyes rake over his torso, admiring every dip and curve of his muscles. He’s so toned and fit, mouthwatering.

His hands fall down to his belt, unbuckling the leather, and swiftly removing it. Next, he takes off his pants and boxers, leaving him bare just like you. His erection stands tall, eager to feel you around him. He stalks forward, almost like a predator after its prey, and stands right in front of you.

He pushes you onto your back and lifts your legs, planting your feet on the bed with your thighs spread, showcasing your sweet center. You lift up onto your elbows to watch his every move.

His eyes take you in from head to toe, memorizing every detail of your body, seemingly etching it into his brain. Seeing you all submissive for him makes it all the more better. He loves when you’re completely and utterly his.

Soaking in every inch of you, he wraps his hand around his shaft, slowly pumping up and down. Your eyes widen at his movement, your entrance subconsciously clenching around nothing. He notices, a small smirk pulling to his lips as he watches your arousal ooze from you.

Your eyes bore into him as he continues to stroke himself, your desire for him burning hotter inside of you. You can’t help yourself, and bring your hand to your pussy, running your fingers along your wet folds.

“Aht aht.” He smacks your hand away, leaving you whining for stimulation. “Watch.”

Your lips form a pout at his demand, but you comply because you want to be a good girl for him. As much as it almost hurts not to be touched, you listen. You know you’ll be rewarded for being obedient, and what you’ll get in return will be worth the torture now.

He brings his hand up to your face, shoving two fingers into your mouth. You instantly swirl your tongue around them, sucking his digits just how he likes. After a minute, he pulls them out and wraps them back around his member, sighing from the feeling of your warm saliva enveloping him.

His muscles flex as he continues to jerk his cock, dribbles of precum forming at his tip. Your core aches at the sight, desperate for him to fill you up. You can orgasm just from the visual he’s giving you.

As he strokes himself, his free hand meets your thigh, rubbing all over with a strong pressure. Your breath picks up as he gets closer and closer to where you need him, yet he never gives you the satisfaction you so desperately want.

“Look at you.” He coos, “So wet already.. Haven’t even done anything.”

You whimper when his fingers dance outside your folds, purposely ignoring your throbbing heat. After another moment of teasing you, his thumb trails through your lips from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a low moan from your mouth.

As his thumb presses your clit down, he positions his tip at your entrance and slowly pushes in, rubbing slow circles on your bundle of nerves. You gasp at the feeling of him filling you out, your walls stretching to make room for him.

“So fucking tight.” He groans, practically shuddering as he bottoms out.

Stilling for just a moment, he pulls back until just his tip remains, then pushes back in with great force. A loud moan emits from your throat from the sudden change in pace.

His hands grip your legs, pulling them over his shoulders as he thrusts in and out of you. His strokes are deep and hard, almost stealing your breath every time he digs into your sweet spot.

Your eyes roll back, your mouth falling open with a repetitive ‘ah, ah’ sound coming from it. The headboard slams into the wall, over and over again. His fingertips dig into your thighs, keeping your legs open for him.

“This s’what you wanted, no?” He questions, “Acting up just so I’d fuck you.”

You don’t respond, the only thing you’re able to spit out being lewd moans as he pounds into you.

“Yea..” He hums, nodding to himself. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna get fucked.”

After saying that, he pushes your legs forward against your chest. His thrusts pick up, turning your mind into mush as he digs you out. His eyes move back and forth from your fucked out expression to the way your pussy squeezes him, his eyes damn near rolling back from both sights.

He leans over you, shoving his cock as deep as it would go, his hips slamming into the back of your thighs as he does so. The heavenly sound of both of your moans and your bodies smacking together fills the room, and its music to Rafe’s ears.

“Oh m-my god.” You cry out as you feel the knot in your stomach twisting tightly.

He grins down at you as you writhe beneath him while he continuously abuses your cervix. Your brows furrow as your face scrunches in pleasure, your body ablaze with pure bliss.

Rafe uses one hand to hold your legs in place, his other hand going down to your center. Wetting his fingers with your slick, he rubs your clit in fast circles, causing your body to tremble.

You don’t even have time to warn him before the band in your stomach snaps, your juices pouring out of you as you convulse beneath him. He groans at the sight of you coming undone and the feeling of your squeezing him so tight.

With a few more harsh thrusts, he’s balls deep in you, his dick twitching as he paints your walls with a milky white. He gives you another few pumps, emptying his entire load as you pulsate around him.

He lets your legs go and falls forward, holding most of his weight on his elbows beside your head. The two of you are breathless as you stare at one another.

“All you gotta do is ask, baby.” He grins, passionately kissing you. “You know dad’ll give it to you.”

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

tags : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams @rafesgiirl @yourenogoodforme @marvelfanfics1recs @cini-mini27 @pinkribboncoco @drewsphswife @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra

[deadboy-edwin]

okay but. does anyone ever think about "none of this was here before", and "you have to experience hell to really see what's here" and the implications of that???????

so. charles doesn't see anything in hell when he first enters. like he goes through all the empty rooms. he hears some odd things, sure, like the screaming when he rings the bell in the lobby, but he has a more or less tame walk through hell (all things considered).

but then, he sees edwin.

edwin, who is curled into himself, bloodstains painting his skin and clothes, a painfully vacant look on his face. the sight is an absolute juxtaposition versus the usual poise charles is used to seeing edwin carries himself with, his ramrod straight posture and pristinely coiffed hair a mere memory.

then, edwin speaks.

"charles?"

it's the softest and most vulnerable that charles has ever heard his best mate's voice. it's also the most terrified charles has ever heard edwin- and they'd faced off many threats in their years together as detectives. the disbelief in edwin's voice at even seeing charles again is painful, because seeing charles shouldn't even be a surprise, because there wasn't any version of this where charles didn't come to get him, where charles would allow that they would never see each other again.

ghosts do not have internal organs, or much physical sensation (iron aside), but charles swears he can feel his heart shatter into a billion tiny pieces in his chest.

a split second later, the baby doll head spider makes an appearance, whisking edwin away from him, edwin's screams laced with absolute fear-

that is the first instance that charles sees hell's monsters.

[victorrs]

victor with a high ponytail. rb if you agree

[j-stararts]

Me with the new footage released. I need this game now fr

[bearsincaves]

jason todd the kinda guy to show up uninvited to family game night after going dark for weeks, not pay attention, and win the entire thing

[j-the-latter-gay-saint]

Rating artistic depictions of Captain Moroni by how hot he is

Captain Moroni Raises the Title of Liberty, Arnold Friberg

A classic! Not bad looking, but there is a certain something about him that makes me want to know his whereabouts on January 6, 2021. 5/10

For the Blessings of Liberty, Scott M. Snow

Strangely enchanting, glaringly caucasian as he is. Somehow I am put in mind of sapphic lady knights like Joan of Arc and Cassandra Pentaghast and Chappel Roan. At the same time he looks like a regular from the Hallmark movie casting stables playing younger than his age. 6/10

Moroni and the Title of Liberty, Clark Kelley Price

Look at that bicep! Look at that tease of thigh! Look at that beard! But WHY does your armor look so Roman?? 7/10

Title of Liberty, Ken Corbett

Oh this guy was DEFINITELY at the capitol. 2/10

A Letter from Pahoran, Jerry Thompson

Another classic! ...Tell me I'm not the only one who sees "child of Dennis Quaid and DeForest Kelley." It's...it's odd. I don't know. The end result is Just Some Guy. 4/10

Come Forth, Walter Rane

You can't fool me! I know Matt Mercer when I see him! Not his best angle, though, especially with the strain from yelling. 6/10 (*Note: this score is not applicable to Matt Mercer himself.)

Captain Moroni and the Title of Liberty, Larry Winborg

The first time I saw this painting was a small, slightly off-colored paper cutout on a bulletin board at church, and I thought Moroni's face was much rounder and I was delighted at the prospect of a Moroni who looked a little chubby, known bear enjoyer that I am. Alas, I was wrong. But he's still quite handsome. 8/10

Young Captain Moroni, Lester Yocum

Oh, hello! An artist who remembered Moroni was in his twenties when he was appointed to his position! See that determination in those lovely dark eyes! Oh, and the curly hair! 8/10

Morianton's Maidservant and Captain Moroni, James H. Fullmer

First of all, we love a man who respects women. See that kindness in his expression. He is so strong, but being so gentle with his strength. Second of all: Daddy. He's got MUSCLE, and not in the bodybuilder way like some of these other paintings. Look at that nose just made for kissing, that hair just made for brushing strands out of his face, that beard just made for gently scratching your cheek. 10/10 PLEASE come sweep me off my feet and demand better of my government.

Send me more...Captain Moronis? Captains Moroni? Copies of Captain Moroni. And I'll rate them, too!

[nice-deep-breaths]

can i offer anyone some more warm comforting anesthesia flash fic/short stories

—

He gestures with the mask, and the tubing it’s attached to sways slightly. “Ready?”

Your heart starts to pound a little faster. “Yeah…I guess.”

He looks you over again, and you catch a glimmer of satisfaction in his expression. “All right, then. Just stay relaxed and take some deep breaths, okay? It’s only oxygen for now. We’ll do this slow, give you a chance to adjust.”

His hands are gentle as he settles it on your face. It’s soft, almost cushioned, and it doesn’t smell like anything in particular.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and you nod. You were expecting a lot worse, but it’s actually quite nice. “Good.”

You take a couple of breaths, bouncing between staring at the ceiling and staring up at him. It’s a strange angle to begin with, but he’s got a focused look on his face, looking down at you slightly clinically. It’s rather disconcerting, though there’s something…comforting about being watched so closely. As if you’re being cared for. Like you’re safe.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay,” you respond, unsure of what else to say. If anything, you feel like you’re more awake than you were a second ago, which just fuels the hamster wheel of your brain.

“You’re doing really well,” he reassures, and long, cool fingers brush across your forehead. “I’m going to start giving you some medicine, all right? It might smell a little strange, and make you feel a bit funny. No need to panic, just keep breathing.”

And yes, your next breath tastes sweet, artificial, but not necessarily unpleasant. You breathe in again, slightly less raggedly.

“Good…” his voice is calm and steady in your ears as he draws out the word. “Deep breaths, nice and slow.”

You blink, taking a few more slow breaths as he instructs. Your head begins to feel slightly light, and your thoughts begin to slow a little bit.

“Oh. Feel it.” You’re a little alarmed at how you’re now slurring your words, but he doesn’t seem fazed at all.

“Yeah, you would be feeling it by now. Else I’d be a bit concerned about your circulatory system.” You almost want to cringe away from the intensity of his gaze, even though your vision is beginning to blur ever so slightly.

“Difficult to focus?” he asks, and you nod. That’s a good way to describe it. You feel his free hand press to your wrist. He’s taking your pulse again. You’re becoming detached, though, and the touch feels just a little dreamlike. “Good. And your pulse is slowing way down. Definitely kicking in.”

His hand lifts from your wrist, and suddenly it feels as though his touch was what was grounding you to existence. You miss the tether. “I’m going to give you some more medicine. You ready?”

You nod, and then your next breath is tinged with something pungent and sharp, like a permanent marker being piped directly into your air supply. You gasp. A little cough escapes your throat, and you instinctively try to turn your head away. You don’t get very far.

“All right, all right, okay, it’s okay, you’re all right,” Cool fingers stroke your forehead again, before pressing to your temple. “Just breathe. In….and out, nice and easy. You’re being very brave right now.”

You don’t feel brave. You feel light, like you’re floating. His words filter into your ears as though through a blanket of cotton wool. You lean into his touch, trying to breathe as he says. The room is beginning to spin.

His hand is still on your forehead, gently stroking up to your hair. You blink up at him, your vision beginning to waver.

He’s looking at your eyes again. They feel thick and heavy. You have to make an active effort to keep them open and focused. The anxiety suddenly flares at the growing loss of control.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. His words are echoed in your ears as he looks at your eyes again. “You’ll start to feel sleepy, that’s normal. You’re just going to take a little nap for me.”

Distantly, despite his gentle reassurance, you feel the urge to struggle, to squirm away or to pull the mask off or to hold your breath. But your muscles are melting into the bed. All they give you is another twitch.

Then, there’s a cool hand gently steadying your head, and the gentlest of touches to your temple again. His voice is so soft, calming and clearer in your ears. “Easy, easy, easy, I’ve got you, you’re okay. You don’t have to be scared, you’re doing just fine.”

The fear evaporates.

“That’s it. Just a little more now. Keep breathing.”

The cool fingers disappear from your face, briefly, before they return. They are perfectly timed with a more intense smell. It’s like someone’s uncapped another marker. You automatically hesitate to breathe, but suddenly it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

“There we go. Calm, calm, calm. I just want you to start counting down from ten with me now. Ten…”

You find it weirdly hard to speak. But you try. For him. “Nine…”

Gentle fingers stroke circles into your temple. “That’s right. Just relax…Eight…”

You blink as if on cue, taking another breath. Your muscles feel even more limp, as though they weigh a thousand pounds. “Seven…”

“Keep taking nice, slow, deep breaths, in and out, just like that…Six…”

“Five,” your voice is getting quieter, more mumbled. You can barely keep your eyes open.

“That’s very, very good. Four. You’re doing brilliantly.”

You take another deep breath. Your vision is going dark now, your eyes definitely wanting to stay shut. They roll backwards when you try to open them again. You twitch, shaking your head just a little. “T-three…..”

Another circular pattern on your temple. His voice is low, gentle, comforting, lullaby-like. “Shhh, shhhh, relax, just relax, and don’t try to fight it. Two. One more breath, now.”

One more breath.

You’re not even sure if you manage to breathe out a “One”, or if it’s just a disembodied sigh.

“There we go. Go ahead and close those eyes for me. I’ve got you.”

A gentle hand passes down over your forehead. And, just as the words drift into your mind, your eyelids lock shut, and you’re falling into the swirling dark.

[evilwife777]

out of the million things abt men that disgusts me, one of the top has got to be how they sexualize literally everything and refer to women in porn categories. “the blonde with a tight ass” (what the fuck is a tight ass? i genuinely still don’t know) “petite curvy redhead” whatever that means. or worse, when they start bringing arithmetic into it - “a brunette 7 is better than a 10 redhead but a 10 redhead can’t be beat by a 7 blonde” are you even fucking speaking english rn.

as a black woman i’ve seen all kinds of men in these conversations including black men, but black women are the demographic i see brought up the least in these discussions. which don’t get me wrong, thank God, we’re good off that - but it just goes to show how if men don’t find you fuckable you literally don’t even exist to them. like you’re completely invisible. idk how anyone can live with themselves being okay with not treating human beings like…well human beings lol

[useeer]

Thinking about Venture going into a protective rage when something REALLY bad happens to reader (they're not one for over reacting, so it may be a type of abduction).

I may draw it, but I imagine Venture swinging their drill towards the man's head, practically roaring. The teeth of their excavator ripping off the dudes jaw in a spray of red. They're apoplectic with hatred, and have no mercy. Their face is full of pure rage, contempt. The man, laying on the ground with his hand up, trying fruitlessly to protect his head, gets it kicked out of the way before they shove their drill into his neck. It crunches into the assailants flesh, and not even a second later. BWOOM. BWOOM. BWOOM.

They could've stopped at one, but they didn't want to. The ground is scorched, a huge crater beneath where the assailants head once was. They've got his blood all over them, their shoes, their drill. None of it matters though, because they're in a haze, breathing in deeply. Their chest rising and falling rapidly, their hair caked in dirt, blood and even flesh. When they stand up, they simply let their drill drop to the ground, staring at the corpse.

[meangirls-imagines]

If you haven’t seen already, there is a person on TikTok @/this_is_slim who posted a video talking about how rude Reneè was when she tried to ask for a pic at Coachella.

First off, let me say this loud and clear.

CELEBRITIES DON’T OWE YOU ANYTHING.

Reneè is there to work, have fun, and watch other people perform. She is not there to take a pic at the drop of a hat. She has the right to say no. For you to sit down and make a TikTok talking about how rude she was, commenting about how you feel like since she’s a up and coming artist who OWES you their time and a pic, AND for the whole video, you don’t even call her by her name? You call her Regina George the entire time? Wtf??

Listen, I’ve never been to Coachella, but I know it basically become a place where people go JUST to meet celebs. You go there to watch people perform, not harass a celebrity for pictures and then when they say no, you go on social media and put them on blast.

So allow me to say it again for the ones in the cheap seats:

CELEBRITIES. OWE. YOU. NOTHING.

Do better.

[indecision-s]

i know i'm doing something right when i'm freezing no matter the weather

[stepbrorafe]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

You stand on your tippy toes, arms reaching out as far as they’ll go. Yet still, unable to grasp your favorite book from the top shelf. You huff in exasperation, wondering why your boyfriend put it so high, knowing that it’s your favorite book, and that you’ll never be able to reach it on your own.

Before you even have the chance to call out for him, his front is pressed against your back. His body heat envelops you in such an overwhelmingly soothing way. Molding into you so perfectly, like your bodies were made for one another.

“Can’t reach it?” His low voice speaks from behind you.

“No. S’too high.” You whine, finally letting your feet fall flat onto the ground again.

“Here, I got you. Let dad help.” He offers, his warm breath fanning your ear.

You grin to yourself, partly knowing that he places it so high just so you need his help in retrieving it. He loves to feel needed, and you having to rely on him for even the simplest task strokes his ego and makes him feel important.

“Thank you, Rafey.” You smile as he effortlessly pulls the book down.

“Anything for my princess.” He places a kiss on your head, his large hand finding the small of your back, guiding you to your shared bed.

You slip under the covers, curling up next to him as he kicks back beside you. Your head lay on his chest, inhaling the strong scent of his cologne and body wash. It’s calming and relaxing.

“Want dad to read it to you?” He asks, a soft look on his face as he gazes down at you.

“Yes, please.” You cheese, wrapping your arms around his abdomen as he opens the book.

Nights like these are what make you the happiest. Him being kind and gentle, catering to you in a way that no one ever has before. Your need to be cared for by him is so strong, and his need to care for you is even stronger.

He’s always there for you, for whatever it may be. Protecting you from people with bad intentions, fucking you dumb, getting things from the highest shelves, and even reading a silly little story to you before bed. You can always count on him and he makes sure you know it every single chance he gets.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

a/n : i’ll try to work on the stepdad rafe in my drafts since it’s heavily requested xx

tags : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams @rafesgiirl @yourenogoodforme @marvelfanfics1recs @cini-mini27 @pinkribboncoco @drewsphswife @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra

[deadboy-edwin]

I have this idea for payneland:

Both of them get hit with some kind of spell of sorts that makes them "human" for 24 hours (basically like when they were alive: people can see them, hear them, touch them, they can taste and feel things again, the works)

What do you think they'd do in that time? Maybe taste their fav foods again?

So please bear with me as this will be more of brainrot than an actual fic because I just want to yap- but in my head, it would be kinda funny if the gang was able to get Tragic Mick to turn back into a walrus. The goddess Sedna would then "punish" the boys for daring to defy her- since she had said that Mick would never return to the sea if he chose to leave.

I feel like Sedna would lowkey have a soft spot for abused children, and would also see Mick's love for the sea, and on the inside not really be that mad tbh. Hence the "punishment". She'd "curse" Edwin and Charles to be alive once more.

They don't really know if it's permanent or whatever, but can you imagine the hilarity of Edwin being so used to phasing through walls and doors, then him just walking straight into a door and smacking into it because he's solid- Crystal would have a field day ribbing him for it.

I think, them being human would make them quite unable to take on cases, since admittedly them being regular humans (not everyone can be Crystal Palace Surname Von Hoverkraft okay) makes them vulnerable to beings like demons. So they'd have some downtime. That gives Charles time to think.

Being fully corporeal also allows Crystal to hang out with them like she would with living people. It also allows Crystal to notice things about them that would not have been possible when they were ghosts- like Charles blushing when Edwin adjusts his collar so it's up. Or how the two boys are so tactile. Sure, they'd always been tactile, but why does it seem Charles is extra touchy, now that both boys can feel physical touch?

I think Edwin, bitchy little nerd that he is (and we love him for it) would have a field day with Google. He'd struggle with whatever the fuck a laptop is, and how LED screens strain his poor eyes, and probs get those anti-blue light glasses, and Charles would have a bisexual awakening because Edwin in glasses???

Charles, on the other hand. I feel like boy would want to party. He strikes me as the kind of guy who would be fun at parties, and he'd probably drag the gang to a nightclub after spending the entire day eating different kinds of food (I think he'd enjoy cookie dough ice cream- but that's just me projecting my own cravings).

At the club, Charles might be a bit sulky because Edwin had spent a lot of the day on Crystal's laptop, despite them switching restaurants so that they could try everything- and he's thankful that the laptop is not present at the club.

Unfortunately, Edwin is Edwin, and his brand of anti-rizz also works on the living. You have living people coming up to him left and right, and Charles wonders why this hasn't happened much in death.

Crystal is fast to point out that it's because ghosts are invisible to regular humans. Edwin is not a ghost at the moment, so he's not invisible. She also makes it a point to tell Charles about exactly how many people had simped for Edwin in the afterlife (Monty, the Cat King, hello????)

I think Charles would then get drunk. One, because he's been a ghost for some thirty-odd years. Dude has no fucking clue what his alcohol tolerance levels are. Two, because he gets annoyed that Edwin is getting hit on so much.

There is a third reason that comes to mind once he's fully inebriated, and it's the fact that the following thoughts aren't exactly heterosexual

Getting pouty when your best mate isn't paying attention to you while you are having a meal together

Staring and practically drooling when your best mate is wearing glasses

Getting upset when guys and girls (despite Edwin's lack of interest in the latter) keep flirting with Edwin

Wanting to feel Edwin's touch while he has all his senses at full blast

The plot twist here is that since Edwin is also alive and fully corporeal, our repressed Edwardian boy has actually been icing Charles out because as a human, he does not have the luxury of willing erections away.

I think though, because it seems like immortal beings in the DBDA universe have a sense of humor (hi, Cat King and Esther- wicked as her sense of humor is), when Charles finally makes a move and pulls Edwin away from the admittedly gorgeous guy that had been chatting him up with a "He's in love with me, and vice versa, I'm afraid" and kissing Edwin in the middle of the dance floor, is when they turn back into ghosts.

Even though they're now invisible to most humans once more, Edwin is still quick to berate Charles on the PDA- though there's a softness to his berating.

They end up discovering that as ghosts, they can still feel physical sensations if there's enough emotion involved.

That is a fortunate discovery for all parties involved, especially for our girl Crystal Palace Surname Von Hoverkraft, who walks into the office a few days after the club debacle, and sees Edwin pressing Charles up against a bookcase, snogging him with a fervor, his thigh working its way in between Charles' legs---

"Hot," Crystal comments with a smirk, causing the two boys to jump apart with matching sheepish grins on their faces. "If I'd known Edwin kissed like that, I would've gotten it on with him instead."

[victorrs]

constantly throwing out "good girl".... he knows what he's doing