#as if I'd ever NOT pick him for something like this.

[annab-nana]

hi! for the sleepover requests: rafe + "i told my friends i'd go on this stupid double date with them." "and that's my business because..?" "..i don't have a date."

oh babe this sounds so good! hope you enjoy it :))))

warnings: not proofread, mentions of drinking, minor swearing

❀ masterlist ❀ - come join the february sleepover ୨♡୧

"here he comes," your friend, sabrina, noted when she spotted the tall blond making his way over. she took the last swig of your drink before taking the empty cup and getting lost in the crowd, leaving you alone in the corner of the college party. you let out a small huff at her quick exit. you were alone, soon to be with rafe when he got over here, and were without any liquid coverage to get you through the encounter.

"hey sweet stuff," rafe drawled, earning the eye roll from you he was looking for.

"what did i tell you about calling me that?" you bit as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back against the wall behind you.

he pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, pretending he was off in deep thought, but you knew the organ between his ears wasn't capable of such deliberation. "i don't remember anything about 'sweet stuff'. i do remember you saying words i can't repeat about some other names, though," he said through a smug smirk that you so desperately wanted to slap off his face.

"go ahead and add 'sweet stuff' to that list," you told him firmly. "did you need something? because i'm here to have a good time and last i checked, that's impossible to do with you around."

rafe let out a deep chuckle, his blue eyes shining in the neon lights of a beer sign hanging haphazardly on the frat house wall. "you make it so hard to sweet talk you, you know?" he quipped before continuing into why he came over in the first place. "so you know how tomorrow is valentine's day?"

your stare told him you heard him and knew of tomorrow's festivities.

"well, i told my friends i'd go on this stupid double date with them," rafe spoke with a sigh, his eyes gazing hopefully into yours.

you didn't see why he was telling you this and quite frankly, you didn't care. "and that's my business because..?" you trailed off.

rafe paused before continuing. "..i don't have a date."

you couldn't hold back your laughter. it started as an escaped giggle that grew into a hearty chuckle, a full-on belly laugh at his expense. and if he didn't look so earnest, you would've kept on. but your laughter fizzled out, and you wiped your eyes.

"oh shit, you're serious," you mumbled.

his short nod cemented your words.

"why are you asking me? we aren't exactly besties. it's not a good idea but that's kind of your thing, isn't it? bad ideas," you told him in confusion.

a dry chuckle left rafe's lips. "believe it or not, you know more about me, so you're the best fit."

that part made you feel for him for a second, and that small second of weakness cost you. "why couldn't i have met you at college like everyone else?" you grumbled before nodding and giving in. "fine."

rafe's eyes widened ever so slightly. then that stupid smirk made a reappearance. "dress cute. i'll pick you up at seven. see you later, cupcake," he whispered when he leaned forward into your space before walking away.

"don't call me cupcake!"

come join the february sleepover ୨♡୧

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new or join the tag list here!

tag list: @marjorie189 @fiction-is-life @bradleybeachbabe @drewsephrry

[carlarosenakilah]

I'm taking a break from The Osix Family and Wilted Ivory

Hi, you've read that right. I'll proceed to go into detail undercut

Warning that the following will be containing very sensitive topics such as su***idal thoughts, mental health issues, and whatever the fuck I went through to get me here and I don't know how to describe nor name them but overall its not pretty.

Getting straight to the point- im drained. I'm in a horrible place right now and I need to take a step back before it might escalate into something worse.

The Osix Family is always something that I will forever dedicate to. It has comforted me, carried me, and saved me from killing myself three years ago.

I asked myself, "If I'm not here, who will tell the story of The Osix Family?"

That made me stay alive, and im greatful for that because if not, I wouldn't have been where I am today standing with the coolest people I have ever met and my amazing partner in crime @alexusespido-dod.

I love Wilted Ivory too, and that's where it gets tricky.

My only plan for Wilted Ivory is to simply tell a story about growth expressed as a musical au. Hence why the art is so simple– not just to match the original Casino Cups style, but just to tell a story that I hope would inspire and comfort others. Of course, I'm happy it gained lota of love.

The Osix Family though is a different story.

Like I said, it means a lot to me, so I put so much time and energy into this series. I sacrifice time that could've been used to study for the next exam, but instead im working on the next few panels or planning the music and etc. Blood sweat and tears (literally) into making sure the art looks good, story is properly conveyed, scenes carefully picked. Even if it gained me bad scores in my exams that made me stress over about, in the end it was worth it to me. I didn't care if I'd be sick an unable to move, as long as I could at least think about it, then I would be happy.

Episode 3 was my worst.

I overworked myself for that episode. I was always in front of my tablet, I never moved out of my seat, I was just there, working on it even if it was 1 in the morning and that I should be sleeping. I told myself: "Everything will pay off! Sure you're in so much pain right now, but eventually it will all pay off! Episode 3 is looking good and interesting! This will FINALLY gain the audience and love the story deserves!"

I was proud.

Until I wasn't.

Reality hit me like a saw. The moment the episode was released I was hopeful. But nothing happened. It was all the same.

And it just hurt how something as simple as Wilted Ivory can easily gain attention and love because it was Cuphead related something well known. Meanwhile, The Osix Family–despite everything–is just barely seen.

I started to doubt myself. To question myself. Was I not doing enough. What more can I do. What should I do. Am I not good enough?

Is the story just not good enough?

That broke me. I began to have thoughts I shouldn't have. I wanted to end it all. I wanted to quit and disappear from the world. Because what was the point in pouring so much love into something only for it to dismissed.

Its not like I simply began having these thoughts.

I've had them over and over again.

As much as I hated involving him, my partner, Alex, had to deal with the many times I nearly ended it. To the point where even if he was in school, he'd go out of his way to stop me, I still feel guilty, even if he said it was fine.

I don't understand myself anymore.

Why do I even have such an attachment to this series? Its just a stupid silly series for funsies isn't it? Why does my life to depend on it?

Unfortunately, it just does.

It sucks. Pushing away my needs for the sake of this passion, only for it to just not go as I hoped it would go. Did I mention I'm also losing followers on the osix family blog? Thats so silly and coquette.

I'm so sorry if im coming off as guilt-trippy, please I don't want it to sound that way, I just want to express how deeply troubled I am because to me it actually DOES HURT.

I envy people who couldn't give a flying fuck about whether or not their stuff goes famous or gets love, I don't even understand why I am so dependent or hungry on whatever attention it gets. I hate that im like this. I want to be free from it but I just crave it.

So, for the sake of my mental health and whatever is left of my sanity, im taking a break, for good.

I will not be updating The Osix Family or Wilted Ivory at this very moment. For how long? It depends on how fucked up I have actually turned out to be today.

I might still post, keyword: MIGHT, its not any update but to just simply draw for myself, but the chances of me posting anything is horribly low.

I'm going to focus on myself, my needs, and whatever makes me happy or have fun with.

To those who supported The Osix Family or even bothered to check it out: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

It means a lot to me, you have NO idea. Every single like, reblog, comment, hype or even the silliest amounts of theories or thoughts, they make me so happy, it actually heals me.

I can't remember names im sorry, but there was a time someone expressed how they were invested in the lore and loved the world building, it really made my day. Or when someone pointed out some small details on my waiting in a miracle animatic, it warmed my heart.

I have troubles expressing it, but im so, SO greatful.

Especially when some of my mutuals started making OCS FOR THE SERIES?? Like– it felt like a HUGE compliment.

I cant believe im tearing up as im typing this haha im so stupid lmao, but

Thank you. A lot.

And to those who weren't really into The Osix Family, its okay, don't feel bad, sometimes things are just not our cup of tea, I just needed to express my grief, cause honestly bottling it up isn't going to end well for me (and it really didn't multiple times).

I apologize for any false hope or let down your hype as Wilted Ivory was just starting and The Osix Family was finally coming back– but this treatment is overwhelming me that I need to take a step back.

That's all for now.

Thank you for... actually reading, you listening means a lot to me too.

Goodbye.

[frankys-wife]

THANK YOU KRUEGER FOR TAGGING ME <3

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

He'd canonically be a rhinoceros if he was an animal, but my horse hyperfixation brain says he reminds me of a male unicorn! I justify it like this:

Factually, horses and rhinoceros are distantly related because they're from the same group, Perissodactyls. They share a common ancestor millions of years ago, called the Cambaytherium. Basically, this means that Rhinos are horses with horns. And what is a horned horse? A unicorn. Also factually speaking, the horn on a unicorn's head used to be a metaphor for masculinity in medieval times, often because unicorns were depicted fighting and killing lions. It's why some national Coat of Arms symbols have the Lions and Unicorns on them. (Also because the horn on a Unicorn's head used to me a metaphor for a certain body part...) Another reason for this is because unicorns are rare. Franky is one-of-a-kind, both in his canon and our reality. There's no person or character comparable (in my opinion) to him or his abilities. He likes to stick out in a crowd and takes pride in being unique!

So I can happily say I think Franky is a very strong unicorn hehe <3

2. If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them?

I would try to pick him up any kind of work materials he needs. I'd also make him all kinds of shirts: fun patterns, stupid slogans to make him laugh, anything that suits him! And, of course, his favourite cola!

3. What is your favourite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

Anytime I get a random spurt of energy and put on some music, I think dancing with him would be the most fun thing ever! I also think he'd be chill with me putting on a fun action movie or playing some cards.

Also the occasional Mario Kart or Just Dance challenge. Franky would be so down to challenge me to Just Dance, we could do all of the cheesy couple's songs. I can see him getting frustrated when the Wii remote doesn't register his move XD

4. What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

He's chill with any kind of yard work, which isn't my thing. He doesn't mind vacuuming either, since the vacuum acting up would mean he gets to work on it a little. The nice thing about being married to an engineer/carpenter is that I've got an on-site handyman :) <3

He hates cleaning the bathrooms (honestly, who doesn't). I don't mind it as much as he does, so I usually take care of it. If things get clogged, though, it's a Franky job. He also doesn't care too much for laundry but is particular about how his speedos get washed so I take care of that without any issues.

5. Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

Honestly, yeah. He's pretty calm and level-headed when driving for the most part. He steers the Thousand Sunny with no problems, so a car isn't that much different (though, he does tend to be a bit of a speed devil sometimes...). He might make impulsive decisions but he has the best intentions.

6. What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Probably one of his favourite songs! Or I'll record him saying something silly I think hehe

7. Would your f/o fight someone online?

He might for a bit but then he might just hit them with the "L opinion + Ratio". He likes to fight in person anyways.

8. Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

He's not really a spiritual person per se- he believes what he sees and experiences, things he can justify. But he does think we're so natural together that, in his own words, it was meant to be if that makes sense!

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them? 

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online? 

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go? 

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o? 

What color do you associate with your f/o? 

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything? 

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most? 

How does your f/o show their love best? 

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.

[jscrawls]

Grave mistakes

Gotham City is full of a lot of characters, criminals, creepy clowns, man eating plants, eccentric billionaires. But all that rolled into one household?

Warning: contains mentions of poor mental health, death, general spooky stuff, it's an Addams reader they're gonna be freaky,

Part 1: digging dirt

🔹🔹🔹

Jason's having one of those days, his hands ache a little too much, his scars pulling a little too tight, the ringing of metal as someone worked on their car grit in his ears a little too loudly, It's overstimulating. he doesn't even feel Like…..a person right now, he feels more like a body caring for itself. So he did what he usually does when he's not quite all there, he walks. Wanders around until he finds somewhere quiet enough to stuff himself back into his own head, until his body feels like him again. And that's how he found himself here of all places, a graveyard, the graveyard. Someone's still taking care of it, it seems. The grass is neatly manicured and the stone is moss free, he hates that in a way. The stupid gravestone looks like it's been shown more care than he has. He hates that he can still clearly read it.

“What a dreadful graveyard, you must be very proud of it.” A mystery voice chimes from behind him, who the fuck snuck up on him?

Spinning around with a snarl on his lip, Jason's greeted by the sight of a….Goth witch? That doesn't bode well on Bruce's property.

“Who the ever loving fuck are you?” his hand rests on the grip of his gun, warning enough to not try anything too hasty. Damn what if they're a meta-

“oh excuse my manners, I'm your new neighbor.” The mystery goth steps closer without any hesitation and holds out their hand, their other hand holding a…casserole dish? Oh right, Alfred mentioned something about a neighbor…They introduce themselves as an Addams like they're not standing in a graveyard and he's armed, alright then…

“Okay…I'm Jason Todd...? I'm not your neighbor though, i don't live here.” He glances back down at the gravestone, his gravestone-

“Oh? Then i suppose you'll just be my new friend then instead of my new neighbor.” They glance down at the stone as well, noticing the obvious. “Oh is that yours? You have one already picked out and placed? How macabre!” They smile, Jason's gut twists at the sight.

“No it's not-that's just uhh…don't worry about it alright? I used it and then.. Got better?” Jason wants to bury himself Alive right now, what kind of an answer is that? They just had to catch him on one of his bad days.

“you know, my dear grandmama has done that quite a few times. The lady just can't seem to stay buried for more than a few weeks at a time. One of these days…” The goth sighs wistfully at that, seeming unbothered. Are they mocking him?

“I'm not on the mood for jokes.” He grunts out, shoving his hands in his pockets and going to step around them. He'd prefer to wallow in his fucked up mental state without an audience.

“Grandmama’s perchance for breaking the barriers between the living and the dead is no laughing matter my new-not-neighbor-friend, say do you know the man living here? I'd like to return this to it's rightful owner before the poltergeists smash it.”

Jason stares at them for a long, silent moment. They said all that with a straight face. Must be committed to their aesthetic to the nth. The thought of seeing Bruce right now sounds about as enjoyable as crawling on broken glass on his hands and knees, but they seem to expect something from him. God he hates social obligations…

“I'm not even gonna ask, give me the dishes and I'll get em back to Bruce.”

“Who is ‘Bruce’? I was under the impression the resident here was named Alfred.”

“No that's the butler- wait, you don't know who your neighbor is? How can you move in beside one of the wealthiest man in the country without knowing?”

“oh is Gomez here? That sneaky devil already bought property in this wonderful city without telling me? Oh I could die of jealousy!"

The goth seems…happy? Jason doesn't want to snap them out of it just yet. They're obviously crazy and he's not ready to deal with the fallout. He's ready to just say fuck it and leave, but he doesn't want to leave Alfred to deal with them…

“Gomez? No this is Bruce Wayne's house. You know, billionaire philanthropist?” he turns towards the back of the mansion and starts walking, ready to go drink until he can't see his reflection straight on. Who cares that it's only four in the afternoon.

“Wayne? Was he the one in Jersey shore?” They say with curiosity, stepping after him with casserole dish in hand.

that actually gets a startled laugh out of Jason, picturing Bruce on Jersey shore with Nikki and big Mike. “No, God no. That'd be a sight to see though…. You don't seem the type to watch that show, i bet supernatural is more your thing, what with the whole….goth thing.” Is he making conversation? Wow, go Jason i guess.

“i enjoy the chaos and violence.” Is all they say, following him to the manor.

“…alright fair enough.” He falls silent again, the only sound being the crunching of leaves underfoot. God he's not good at this, this feels awkward very quickly. At least to him, they seem intrigued with the sights of the graveyard.

“so how did you die, I'm assuming you used the gravestone in death. Yes? Not unless you enjoy a little being buried alive action, i dabble in it time to time myself so don't feel awkward. Do tell.”

Do they have to press on about that? What kind of freaky shit are they into- “you're fucking demented.” he hisses out before he can catch himself, wow way to make a nice impression on Bruce's new, probably rich if they're buying up land in this neighborhood, neighbor.

“Oh? Aren't you a romantic one, My new-not-my-neighbor-friend.”

“…that wasn't-can we drop this? You're driving me nuts.”

“You're very sweet, perhaps we can explore this another time then. Please tell Alfred the casserole was positively horrible! Toodles!”

And just like that they turn on their heel and leave, disappearing into the- wait why is it suddenly foggy? Jason shakes his head and briefly ponders whether any of that was even real, or if he's gone off the deep end this time. The weight of the casserole dish on his arm the only thing assuring him he's not full blown hallucinating like certain people he knows.

He gets a few steps closer to the manor when he pauses again, he feels…. Okay. Not great but…he feels like a human instead of a ghost occupying a body. Huh. Guess meeting someone crazier than you'll fix you.

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: ngl I'm pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, Jason's fun to write! Any feedback is appreciated as I figure out how to write other ppls POV TYYYYY 🖤💜🖤💜

[depressnt]

If I ever wrote a Wicked dnd au (tw massive rant!)

There'd be 8 grimmeries that encompass the 8 schools of magic, written by the wise ones and enchanted with sentience, they all choose one powerful magic user who encompasses their school to be able to read it, but people only know of the Transmutative Grimmerie- the bronze one- because there's a spell that keeps it in the emerald palace and the wizard tries to brute force it to work for him, and none of the others have come out of hiding and are instead waiting for a magic user to discover them

I say magic users because they won't always necessarily pick a wizard just because Wizards are those most likely to use spellbooks. The grimmeries choose someone who will use their spells to the betterment of Oz, and sometimes they won't even pick someone who specializes in the school of magic they represent

Also, Galinda is a wizard. People pretend she's a bard, but she is 100% a wizard. I'm sorry but I don't see her being selfless or dedicated enough to be able to practice as a support class, and while that one wicked dnd au where she's a cleric is wonderful, I'm a wizard Galinda truther. She WANTS to study magic, she's BEEN studying magic her wholeeee life, she wishes it were innate but it isn't so she's gonna grab magic BY THE BALLS and bend it to her will. Whether she specializes in enchantments (charms) or illusion is something I'm still debating, probably enchantment, but I hc Conjuration comes easily to her because she knows how to make something out of nothing (through lying), and doesn't want to lie but she kind of has to do it all the time and it sucks, she wants her lies to not be fake anymore, she's an honest gall! Just sometimes honesty gets you killed real damn dead. I think the Evocation grimmerie might like her, she's selfish enough to call on the aggressive nature of its spells for her own gain, and it just so happens that "her own gain" is "making Oz the kind of place Elphaba can live safely again" (I read a two chapter 34k word gelphie hurt/comfort reunion fic, and her characterization just KILLED me, I'm never gonna stop thinking of her, I love her)

(Found the link!)

Elphaba wants to be a wizard soooo bad, but she's a wild magic sorceress <33 Unsleeping City homebrew style, where her wild magic surges build up over time like Pete's, she can't STAND it and she nearly hurt so many people whenever she surged, the transmutation grimmerie picks her both as a way to get out of the palace, and because she wants to enact Good and Solid change in Oz, and it likes that

Fiyero is a swashbuckler rogue who switches his sword out for a gun in act 2, and maybe switches subclasses to mastermind to try and help Elphaba as best he can (reference to mastermind's ability to use Help action from 30 feet away, alsp it was HIS idea to fake her death) (a revived or phantom rogue would also make perfect plot sense, but I don't see it for his character)

Nessa is a commoner until she gets the ruby slippers, which is when she realizes she needs to step up her game if she's to stay with the Charmed Circle, so she becomes a ranger, maybe a monster slayer- seeking out Elphaba to kill her with a gun (hc her father taught her to shoot when guns became a thing, because it was novel and interesting and she liked the power it gave her despite the chair) before having a change of heart

Boq is either a Barbarian or a fighter in my mind, maybe a champion fighter tbh? He'd have been Nessa's (unwilling) right hand during the dictatorship, and I'd believe she'd force him to essentially head whatever military she might have amassed, I think she'd gladly try and seceed from Oz. And also the Tin Woodman was wild with an axe in the books! (Allegedly) (still gotta read those), I think he'd find some release in physical prowess, maybe holding out hope he'd be able to fight his way out, since he was clearly too smitten to smart his way out of... pretty much any situation in his life

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Okay, I'm not doing this from a kitchen between board games, so I can actually post this the way I'd prefer. This is for Day Two of @bucktommyfluffebruary: Cooking Together. This is also on tumblr here!

---

They have two diametrically opposing cooking styles: Evan is hyper-focused on getting everything absolutely right from the start, Tommy goes with the flow and throws stuff in as he sees fit. It means that sometimes Tommy feels like he’s in the eye of a storm (something he’s now intimately familiar with) when he and Evan are in the kitchen together. Normally, they trade off or act as a sous chef to the other one. This, though, is too big a dinner to leave for just one person, because it’s Thanksgiving dinner.

It’s actually Saturday-after-Thanksgiving dinner, because almost everyone had been working on the actual holiday or had other family obligations. Miracle of miracles, they’re all available two days later, and Evan had enthusiastically volunteered their place when the plans were getting worked out.

There’s an Excel spreadsheet printed and taped to the fridge, there are multiple timers going with Post-Its placed on each one noting what the timer is for, and Evan had actually suggested they buy a couple of countertop burners until Tommy reassured him that they’d be fine with their double oven and seven burner stove. He’s calmly stirring the sauce for the ravioli he’s making as a starter, because his Nonna, Prozia Camilla, and Zia Vivi would rise from their graves and deliver a lethal dose of Italian guilt if he didn’t have a proper il primo corso. Evan is feeding potatoes through a ricer and glaring at the turkey in the oven like it’s personally offended him.

“It’s not going to be dry,” Tommy says for the probably tenth time, sipping his wine. “You almost done with those?”

Evan puts the bowl of riced potato next to Tommy’s elbow. “Yep. Two minutes to spare, too.”

“Good,” Tommy says, setting down his wine glass and reeling him in by the waist for a kiss. He lets the wooden spoon rest against the inside of the pot and brings his hand up to cup the back of Evan’s head, nearly smiling against his lips when Evan melts against him.

He loves Evan, even when he’s wound up and obsessing about timetables. Being able to feel Evan let go of that for a moment and find peace in Tommy’s arms is humbling, and he still doesn’t know if he knows what to do with the responsibility that comes with carrying Evan Buckley’s heart alongside his own.

When he breaks the kiss, the lines of tension are gone from Evan’s forehead, and he looks soft and content.

“It’ll be perfect, even if it’s not, because it’s Thanksgiving with our family in our home,” Tommy reminds him. It’s become his mantra ever since Evan had walked into their living room two weeks before and confessed that he’d signed them up to host. “For the first time.”

“Not the last,” Evan finishes, and Tommy nods. “I love you.”

Tommy presses a kiss to his cheekbone. “I love you, too.”

A timer goes off, and Evan reaches back to the island to grab it and silence it. “Yams are done.”

Instead of rushing off, though, he picks up the wooden spoon and tastes the sauce before having Tommy do the same.

“‘S good,” Evan says, nuzzling his shoulder. Then he rushes off to the bottom oven and takes out the tray of yams.

Tommy chuckles and picks his glass back up. He shoots off a text to the Thanksgiving group chat that people can start arriving whenever they want, because the yams coming out means there’s only an hour left until the turkey needs to come out to rest.

“Can you text—” Evan starts to ask, then his phone buzzes on the counter. He looks at Tommy with a relieved smile. “Thanks, babe.”

“Mhm,” Tommy hums, putting the sauce to simmer and turning on a burner under a giant pot of water. Then he goes to the fridge and starts pulling out everything for the antipasti, because there’s meat and cheese to slice and brined things to put in nice bowls.

He turns up the music playing on the bluetooth speaker that’s perched on their fridge, humming along with Perry Como. He likes listening to old music when he’s cooking, because it reminds him of being a little kid in a kitchen while his mom, her sister, their mom, and their aunt squabbled and gossiped in a mix of Italian and English.

A hand presses against his hip, and he smiles when a pair of lips press against the side of his neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be making cranberry sauce?” he asks, tilting his head and sighing when Evan kisses him again.

“I asked Bobby to make some,” Evan says, nuzzling his neck. “Frees up a few minutes.”

“I’m sure your blood pressure appreciates that.”

“Mhm,” he hums against his skin, and Tommy sets down the knife before it slips. “Dance with me?”

Tommy feels his breath catch for a moment and turns just as Evan starts the song over on his phone and tucks it in his back pocket. When a hand is offered to him, Tommy’s heart flutters and he can’t suppress the breathless laugh as he takes it. He pulls Evan close, a hand splayed over the middle of his back, and Evan’s other hand curls in the fabric of his sweater, his knuckles pressing into Tommy’s bicep. Tommy closes his eyes and presses his cheek to Evan’s, swaying in their kitchen as Perry Como sings about not letting the evening get him down now that he’s around the person he loves. It feels so much like a moment from a movie, something that happens to other people, but it’s his and it’s theirs.

The song fades into another, and Evan’s hand leaves his bicep to cup his cheek and he presses a sweet, gentle kiss to Tommy’s lips. When Tommy opens his eyes, Evan’s smiling at him and everything else feels hazy.

The doorbell rings, breaking him from his reverie, and Tommy kisses him quickly.

“Go back to the gravy, I’ll get the door,” he says.

“Okay,” Evan says with a dreamy smile.

–

People trail in with side dishes, appetizers, desserts, wine, and board games. Their kitchen is crowded on the far side of the island, and there’s chattering and laughter and teasing and gossip while kids run around. Tommy carefully upends the container of fresh ravioli he’d made into the boiling water and leans into Evan when he slips an arm around his waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder.

“It’s the last thing,” Tommy says, and Evan hums in agreement. “And then we did it.”

“We did,” Evan says, kissing his shoulder. “And we’re not doing it again for, like, four years.”

“Yeah, no, absolutely not,” Tommy agrees, taking another gulp of wine and handing the rest to Evan for him to polish off. “Can you get the strainer?”

“Already next to the sink.”

Tommy snags his hand after he sets the wine glass down, kissing his knuckles and knowing that the next time they do this, there will be a ring there.

–

The song they dance to is "And I Love You So" by Perry Como.

[authorsofghosts]

Club in Love | Morph x Reader

Summery: Morph decides to take you out on Valentine's Day since you're both dateless. Of course, they think the best place to go on a date for two mutants like yourselves is the club.

Themes: Fluff -> Angst -> Fluff, Confessions, Mutual Crush, Open Ending, Clubbing, Drinking, (Slight) Drug Mention, Morph does Morph things, Morph doesn't use their Birth Name, Reader is a mutant/X-Man (no powers written), Wolverine cameo.

Word Count: 1.5k (not proofread)

"Come on, we're not gonna make it for the 'Couples Get in Free' hour if you have to spend thirty minutes just picking an outfit." Morph laughs, creeping ever so slightly closer.

"We're not a couple, Morph." You laugh out softly, shaking your head as you took out some shirts to look at them.

"Not yet," They smirk, getting closer and poking your cheek. As you go to protest, they grin wider. "I'm kidding, come on. It was funny."

"No, it wasn't." You mumble, remembering the fact that the only reason you agreed to do this was both of you were painfully single. Morph's smile drops as they see you lost in thought, quickly trying to figure out how to cheer you up.

"Hey, just think of it as a..." They start, pausing to tap their chin in thought, trying to find the right words. "A special Co-Ops mission. I mean, the best mutant on the team for having to undercover is moi, huh?"

Morph spins, with their hands in the air, switching between different forms and disguises, finally resting on their 'Public Face'.

"Come on, it can't be that hard to pick an outfit."

"Says the person who can shapeshift into any outfit they want." You grumble, shoving them away.

They laugh softly, smiling as they lean against the wall. Finally picking an outfit, you shoo Morph away to get dressed. As you walk out of your room, you hear a low whistle. "Morph-"

"Non, non, cher." You hear and see Gambit, but know better. "You look magnifique, chouchou."

"Morph."

"Fiiine." They laugh, transforming back into themselves. "You're not fun."

"I am, but not when it comes to you trying to seduce me or whatever with our friend's faces." You shake your head, grabbing your stuff and making your way to the stairs. "Come on, 'partner'."

"Is that a cowboy joke or a date joke?"

"If I said date joke you'd be happy, so it's a cowboy joke."

You stomp down the stairs of the mansion, rolling your eyes as you laugh with Morph. Before you can make it to the door, Logan steps out in front of you both "W'ere the hell do you two think yer goin'?"

"Relax, we're going to the club. You coming with?" Morph smiles. "Or are you gonna sulk and whimper like last year." They snicker.

"Morph, be nice-" You say, quickly being cut off by the chuckle of Logan, making you quickly turn your attention back to the gruff man.

"No, they're right. But I ain't going to yer fancy club, Morph. I'd rather stay 'ere tonight. Thanks though."

Morph pats Logan's back, tsking softly, "There isn't anything 'fancy' about it other than the way it overstimulates you with all the flashing, multicolored lights. But I promise it'd be much chiller since, you know, they're trying to draw in couples for their jacked up drink prices tonight."

You watch as they try to convince Logan to come, but there really wasn't much getting through to him. Not today, at least. "Well, you kid's have fun. I'mma get some shut eye." He finally grunted out, walking off.

"Welp, that's our queue, I assume, to get going. You know?" Morph laughed softly, pointing towards the front door.

"Mhm." You prompt, walking forward and paying them no mind. For someone who was just flirting with you, or so you think, they sure did ignore you for about five minutes. So clearly, they can't like you like that for real, right?

You don't see it, but their face drops as you walk out the mansion. "Shit-" Them mutter to themselves. Quickly running up to you, they wrap an arm around you and grin. "Oh, come on, don't get sour before we get Lemon Drops. Or maybe something stronger? Oooo, maybe one of those overpriced Valentine's Day themed drinks."

Morph shifts to their public face, opening the passenger side door and bows slightly. This causes you to chuckle out, shaking your head and flashing a soft smile in their direction. This satisfies them enough to shake off their mini-dread.

As you pull up to the club, Morph looks around at the crowded line outside. "Shit, really? No way there's this many people just cause tonight's so marketable." They chuckle, leaning against you with an arm on your shoulder.

"You'd be surprised how normal, happy people like this holiday." You mumble in a half-sarcastic laugh.

"Normal, happy people?" They repeat, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Non-superheroes fighting off whatever the fuck? People who don't have the stress of protecting the whole world?"

"Oh." They grimace, looking at you softly. "Let's try to not think about that, huh? Come on, I'll buy you whatever drink you want." They smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Come on, just act natural." They mumble, walking closer to the bouncer.

"Yeah, yeah." You shake your head smiling, leaning into their touch. You feel them tense for a slight moment before relaxing. They press a soft kiss to your forehead in sight of the bouncer, then lean over to whisper in your ear.

"Don't be such a grouchy pants. We're supposed to look like a couple."

You blush slightly, looking away as the people in front of you step into the club. Morph grabs your hand and pulls you forward.

You enter the club and are immediately met with red light instead of the normal multicolored flashing. "See, I told Logan it'd be calmer tonight. There's just more people."

"Yeah, Logan doesn't like people neither." You laugh, walking over to the bar with them. "Any drink, huh?"

"Any drink." Morph repeats. "We could share, you know. They got couple's drinks or whatever."

"We're not-" You start, looking at the size of the couple drinks tat two people are sharing at the other end of the bar. "Okay maybe. Those are like... five times the size of my fist."

They chuckle softly, shaking their head. "I'll order us one."

You both sit at the bar, sipping on the drink. It's some kind of strawberry vodka cocktail, and if you were being honest? It was amazing.

You go to sip from your straw and find your face only a few inches away from Morph's. You awkwardly laugh and pull back, but that only makes them smirk wide. "Don't be shy now. I mean, we have to pretend to be dating to not get kicked out. What's a little eye contact gonna do?"

You puff your cheeks out, slightly annoyed by how nonchalant they are about this. Taking up on their challenge, you lean back and take a sip of the drink as they do. That's when it finally hits you.

The alcohol that is.

The soft, red lights in the club feel a lot heavier than before and as you look in Morph's eyes, they almost shimmer. Your cheeks heat up and you can't help but look at them, really look at them.

They usual confident, almost a little bit snarky person is taken aback slightly at the change in your demeanor, letting out a laugh that was easily readable as nervous. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Feeling, uh... Peachy." You say, slurring your words despite how slowly you were speaking.

"Oh, you're a lightweight aren't you. Fuuuck, I'm gonna have to babysit you? No, not happening. We're going home."

"No, what? Come on, what happened to having fun?" You ask, a wide, almost goofy grin on your face. You stand up, taking another quick sip of the large cup before pulling them by the hand. "Let's dance."

"Woah- okay, okay, I'm coming." They laugh, shaking their head but following. Whenever you get on the floor, the song playing is lively, about drugs and sex, like most music. You watch Morph's face distort slightly with worry.

"What's wrong?" You slur out, getting a little bit closer to Morph.

"Well, I usually... I usually dance while, you know Morphing. Shifting to different forms with each flash of the lights, cause it's... " They trail off, the song ending.

"It's cool. You're cool." You say, your eyes flickering around.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Did you just say I'm cool?" Morph laughs, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Well- I mean, yeah." You say, your cheeks heating up slightly. For what reason, you have no idea. It's not like you....

Shit.

Fuck.

You laugh, shaking your head, "I mean, what's wrong with saying your cool?"

They smile, eyes lighting up as the next song that's playing in the club is a slow, romantic one. Almost... bedroom-y. "You wanted to dance, right?" Morph asks, putting out their hand.

You look down at their hand, even in your drunken state, understanding where this is going. You take it, yelping out and laughing as they pull you closer, wrapping a hand around your waist. "Hey!"

"Then we're dancing." They say just for your ears.

Morph sways you from side to side slowly, in rhythm with the song. You're a little starstruck, flabbergasted even, at the moment. They put their cheek against yours, smirking. "You're blushing."

"N-no." You stammer, shaking your head.

"You're either extremely tipsy, orrrr... did you find something out?"

"Maybe. Both. Probably both." You mumble. Morph laughs softly, pulling you closer.

"That's alright. Was gonna tell you anyways." They say, forehead against yours.

You pull back slightly, "Huh? Tell me what?" You ask, eyes widening. "You like me, too?"

"Too?" They laugh, shaking their head for a moment. "You like me back?"

"Yeah, no, I just realized this, how long have you liked me???"

"Shit-"

[ve1ljumpers]

something settles in her chest at his words. without realizing, she had readied herself for an argument. it was what she expected. not because of him, she realizes belatedly, eyes distractedly drifting to the column of his tanned neck, but habit. nothing she did was ever right, much less what she wanted, it wasn't brave enough, startling enough, o'hara's were supposed to shock and remake the world, not roll dough with their fingers.

it was a strange novelty for her, to be heard.

❛ no, no. hmm, no, i think you're wrong. there is only the illusion of freedom when you don't know. i keep expecting for something to fall into place, for something to click, to work, to find the right answer and it can be so stifling, ❜ she says, shaking her head with a sigh. ❛ i'd love to have all the answers. ❜ it is why she started with baking: there was a simple rule to baking, if you follow the instructions, nothing will go wrong. it was only when the fear of failure washed away that she reached for the cookery cookbook, spark of creation burning at her fingertips. ❛ at least one would be nice. ❜

taking a sip of her tea, she digs into the pastry with a chef's appreciation.

❛ ah, london. ❜ nose twitches, not exactly in distaste, but there is no longing for her old home in her tone either. ❛ can you see me in a nightclub? ❜ she asks, eyes twinkling, ❛ i hung out with my friends, mostly. took care of patrick and cait, cooked, picked up shifts at the local pub, the owner was really nice and let my friends drink half-off when i was working. ❜

it was boring. one of the greatest cities on earth, full of culture, vibrant to the point of saturation, and she couldn't have been more bored. but rutshire, it made her feel alive; it made her feel... it made her feel like this, when she was under his gaze, but every single moment, like everywhere she went, there was a sparkle of opportunity, that was the freedom she cherished, the freedom to exist, wholly and without feeling like she is walking on eggshells all the time.

❛ i was basically the same, i think. but, here is nicer. that's why you spend time here, as well, isn't? you could be in london, you got parliament and well, loads more going on, i suppose, but rutshire is the best place on earth, ❜ she says, carefully transferring a particularly scrumptious pastry to his plate. ❛ i'd choose the view here over london every day. ❜

Another way they differ—regardless of what anyone else might think of him. Rupert had always been certain of what he wanted and relentless in getting it. There was always another goal on the horizon, another conquest to chase, never quite satisfied with what was already in his grasp. A habit, a curse, that had cost him dearly before. Satisfaction eluded him, as did any real appreciation for the present. He was forever caught in the tug-of-war between past regrets and future ambitions, while the moment at hand slipped through his fingers.

The server returns, setting their food before them, and then vanishes, leaving them to their own devices. He takes a bite, not because he’s hungry but because it gives his hands something to do while his focus remains fixed on her. He listens, utterly absorbed, though he’s distracted in the worst possible way. Her lips move as she speaks, and his gaze flickers between that and the way her eyes shift, catching the light, or the play of golden streaks in her hair, or the elegance of her fingers.

He feels unmoored, like a boy trying to hold onto the semblance of control. And the more he grasps for it, the more it slips away. Rupert Campbell-Black, of all people, losing the upper hand. The irony of it. He had always dictated how things went—how he felt, how others felt, and what the outcome would be. Anything less was unacceptable. Anything too serious, and it was no longer fun. But this—this feeling was a dangerous exception. It thrilled and unnerved him in equal measure.

“Not a bad thing,” he says at last, leaning back as if the movement might give him an air of casual detachment. It doesn’t work. “In fact, it’s good. Not knowing what you want to do gives you freedom. You can try anything, everything. And if cooking is what you want now, then that’s exactly what you should do.”

He says it lightly, careful not to sound pushy or prescriptive. She knows her mind, and more than anything, he wants to know it too. All of it. He wants to dive headfirst into the labyrinth of her thoughts—the big ones, the trivial ones, the ones she barely gives voice to. It’s a ridiculous craving, like some karmic joke. Punishment, perhaps. Or a blessing. Though he’s not convinced he deserves the latter.

“This part of the country isn’t exactly a hub for wild nightlife,” he adds, swirling his drink with idle precision. “What about London? What were you like there? Parties? Clubs? Or was it something else entirely?”

His words are casual, but beneath the surface, something much deeper stirs. This feels different. New. He’s come close to this kind of vulnerability before, but never quite like this. It’s unsettling. And yet, he can’t bring himself to let it go.

[oceans-beloved]

Meme dump yayyy🥳✨️

(off to make more now muhahaha >:3)

[sysig]

Coming in to play! (Patreon)

[breadcrxmbs-reblogs]

dude i really didn't think i could get more depressed. this shit sucks lol

[youremyonlyhope]

I'm not a "new musical theatre style music" person. Never have been.

Even when I was doing voice lessons, I'd steer towards the golden age or jazzy musical theatre songs. My voice teacher would have to drag me kicking and screaming towards adding anything new musical theatre to my repertoire. For a while, the most modern song in my book was I Know The Truth from Aida, and I wouldn't count that as new musical theatre style since I mean more the Pasek&Paul or Joe Iconis type.

And now I have an audition coming up for a small production of a show in that style and I'm supposed to sing a song in a similar style. And I'm looking at all my sheet music like... let me do some Cole Porter... or Gershwin... at least Sondheim please...

[medicinemane]

Jesus fucking christ I get tired of sitting here and hearing my dad loudly ripping ass from the other room

Like listen, I get it, I get that you can't control your guts. Like fuck, for a while... as in like months, I was having trouble even leaving the house... still no clue what was even up which makes me feel like my theory about not eating enough is in the lead given... haven't found any allergies I can identify

So I get it and have sympathy (and fear inheriting my dad's guts), but... it's just so fucking gross man

And it's also like... maybe I'm eating, maybe I'm watching a show... whatever it is the mood's kinda ruined by this just... it almost literally couldn't be louder or grosser

I get you can't control your guts but... do something... anything... see a doctor or... anything

It's just nasty. He's not a bad person, but my dad's just a nasty dude

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Hey so you've posted a bit about replaying DA and I wanted to know if you have a canon run through

I do! I'm currently replaying through my canon run right now [with a few deviations here and there] because every time I finish a run, some time passes before I'm like, ".........I miss them." It makes doing an alternate run harder, too.

For DAO, I play as a rogue lady Tabris named Rosalie, or Rose. Dual-wielding ranger and dualist. Her most used party dynamic is Alistair/Morrigan/Zevran. She named the mabari Griffon after the tales of Grey Wardens and their griffons. Rose romanced Alistair, kept him a warden and made Anora queen. She considers Morrigan one of her closest friends until Morrigan reveals her true intentions for coming with them. I've written about that whole thing before. Honestly, as far as companions go, Rose becomes close friends with most of them... except Wynne, they tend to butt heads in a lot of ways.

Rose didn't want to become a warden and thinks most of their rules and secrets are bullshit. Duncan's excuse for not coming to help her and the other elven women Vaughan took is a driving force for her to defy that "we can't get involved" rule as much as she can during and post-blight. She sided with the mages in Kinloch and with their help saved Connor, made Bhelen king of Orzammar, and settled things between the Dalish and the werewolves peacefully by convincing Zathrian to end the curse. She executed Loghain at the Landsmeet since, y'know... he sold city elves, nearly including her father, to Tevinter slavers to fund his war so... in her eyes, he doesn't get to live after that.

This playthrough I did make a save to reject Morrigan's dark ritual to see what happens when the warden makes the ultimate sacrifice and it's the most unsatisfying ending. It's such a, "No no noooo we didn't deserve this! After everything we went through! Just for it to end like that??" hopeless feeling... which was then fixed when I went back and made my canon choice of begrudgingly accepting the deal [even though it mostly goes against Rose's character but I'm weak and selfish and want her and Alistair to live].

In DA2, I play as a male mage Hawke named Edgar, or Ed. Force mage and blood mage. His most used party dynamic is Carver/Merrill/Anders until Carver goes to the Grey Wardens, then it's Isabela/Merrill/Anders. He's mostly purple in personality, but occasionally dips into blue, and I can count the number of times he's gone red on one hand. He named his mabari Fleabag after Malcolm bought the pup from a traveling merchant who failed to mention he was flea ridden. Several baths later, the mabari was finally flea free but Ed decided he should never live it down and named him Fleabag.

Ed maxes out the friendships with everyone [yes, including Carver, Ed tries so damn hard with him] except Aveline, he maxes out her rivalry. They all side with him and the mages in the end. He romanced Anders. I once did a run where I romanced Fenris with Ed and even though I liked it, the whole playthrough felt wrong because romancing Anders is, like... a fundamental part of Ed's story now... Even though they break up in the end.

I've done all three options across different playthroughs when it comes to Anders; I've spared him, I've killed him, and I've told him to leave. My canon choice is to tell him to leave, and then let him join my party later after we've sided with the mages. It's hard to explain without writing a full essay, but Ed and Anders are pretty much life partners at this point. Even if it's no longer romantic because a huge amount of trust was broken, even if they never get back together in that regard, even if Anders will now be on the run for the rest of his life, whether or not Ed agrees with him [he does and he doesn't, it's complicated] like... Ed loves him and he'll always love him, y'know? He won't abandon him even when everyone tells him he should.....but then DAI happened uhhh

Finally for DAI, I play a lady mage Lavellan named Ashalle, or Ashlaen, or just Ash. She's a knight-enchanter who mostly does storm magic. I'd say DAI is the game where I have a pretty even party use that I rotate between; Cassandra/Varric/Vivienne, Solas/Sera/Blackwall, The Iron Bull/Dorian/Cole. She sides with the mages in Redcliffe and left Hawke in the fade [sorry Ed, and sorry Anders... and sorry Carver... and Varric]. When it came to picking a ruler for Orlais, she figured all options sucked but went with Celene and Briala. Ash drank from the well, and then disbanded the inquisition in Trespasser.

I dislike how DAI just kinda plops your inquisitor into existence with only a small paragraph explaining why they were at the conclave; I wish it had a DAO approach so that's what I did for my inquisitor. Before I start the DAI playthrough, I boot up DAO. Before she was Ashalle Lavellan, she was a circle mage named Ashlaen Surana who escaped with Jowan after he lied to her about being a blood mage. In the ten years pre-DAI, she lost Jowan. In her grief, joined the Dalish, changed her name, and eventually ended up at the conclave. It just adds a lot more meat and spice to the choices and interactions with companions and advisors since she keeps that part of her backstory a secret. After all, she helped a blood mage and then was accused of being one herself before fleeing; she doesn't want the inquisition to know that. All of her crafted staves are named after Jowan while her crafted robes are usually named after her conflicting identities and pieces of her past, too..... Oh, speaking of past, she romanced Cullen. Because of course.

With the context of all this, it becomes them reuniting after they may or may not have had a thing going on in the circle, but then she escaped and he believed she was actually a blood mage for ten years. Cullen sees her like "Ah. Yes. You. Whom I haven't met. Hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people to get you here. Glad you survived." when internally he's screaming "I know who you are, those tattoos fool me not! Why are you here?? To torment ME specifically??" Then there's Ash who takes a little longer to recognize him, and when she does, it solidifies that she needs to run after this because he knows who she is and why she fled, that's not good, she's not going back to the circle after all this is done.

But y'know... they work it out. Eventually.

That's my canon run through of all three games. I keep trying to talk myself into doing a full alternate canon run, but the only game I've successfully done a different route in is DAI with my male rogue Tristan Trevelyan whose backstory was that he's a pro-mage ex-templar. That was fun to see how different things play out, but I haven't managed it for the other two.

I'd like to play DAO as a more cutthroat warden who, unlike Rose, won't go out of their way to do kind things; they'll do what they deem necessary. I'd like to do a lady warrior Hawke run with Bethany as the surviving sibling, and I've tried before but every time I hit a point where I'm like ".....I miss Carver so much" and abandon the run. Like there's always something that makes me abandon the run. I almost abandoned Tristan's run, too, but somehow I pushed through and got invested. I dunno. One day I'll put on my big girl pants and just do it.

[withthewerewolves]

My personal favorite buddie proposal idea is that Eddie sidles into a storage closet at the station one day while Buck is doing inventory and asks "hey can I talk to you as my best friend instead of as the love of my life?"

And once Buck is done having heart palpitations (love of his life! best friend!) he's like "yeah of course" and even sets aside his clipboard so he can give Eddie his full attention

And Eddie gives him a shy/smug little look because he knows what he's doing and says "so I've decided to propose to my boyfriend-" he gives Buck a second to start thinking in full sentences again (boyfriend! that's me! propose! marriage! forever! choosing me forever!) before finishing "-and I was hoping that, as my best friend, you'd come ring shopping with me"

And Buck manages to say "yeah - I'd - I'd love to" and he means the ring shopping but he also kind of means the proposal and they both know it and they spend the rest of the shift barely meeting each other's eyes and then looking away to smile and giggle like teenagers

And they do go ring shopping and they pick out something Buck really likes while pretending very seriously that Buck and Eddie's future fiancé are not the same person

But THEN, before Eddie has a chance to actually propose (he has PLANS), Buck gets him alone at the station and is all "hey, so, can I ask something as your best friend instead of as the love of your life?"

And Eddie is like this sounds familiar but he's also having heart palpitations because he's just as gone on Buck as Buck is on him, so he says "yes of course"

And Buck is like "I think my boyfriend is going to propose, and when I say yes I want to have a ring for him-" he gives Eddie a second to be able to form thoughts beyond he's going to say yes!!!! even though he KNEW he was going to say yes, before continuing "-so I was hoping my best friend would help me pick one out"

And Eddie feels a little drunk (is this what Buck felt when he did this to him?) but he says "I'd love to, yeah" and they spend the rest of the shift not getting farther than a foot away from each other and smiling down at whatever they're pretending to be working on

So they go ring shopping again. They get the same salesperson, and pretend very seriously that this is a return favor for Buck helping Eddie last week, and that they're definitely marrying different people, they're just here as each other's best friend

And Buck carries the ring they picked out for Eddie around in his pocket until Eddie proposes because he wants to be ready, and it takes a couple weeks for Eddie to get it all set up and they both feel electrified the whole time

I don't know how Eddie eventually proposes, but Buck loves it and cries and says yes and gives Eddie his ring, and all their friends are very happy for them while also thinking how insufferable they are

And then they live happily ever after

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, the club music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.