#but its like one of the first things i noticed when watching

[cursedbanalities]

[[Figured I'd give it a go here!]]

My shoes were wet by the time I got to the manor, as were my pants and most of my belongings. Of course, the one time I didn't bring an umbrella was the time the sky decided to open up and pour all over me. Thankfully, I was able to take shelter on the mansion's deck, huddling under the roof. Despite the creepy and slightly worn-down look, it seemed the family was a fan of the macabre and kept their grounds well-maintained. There was a large graveyard in the distance, something that I had never seen on someone's property before, as well as several gargoyles and wrought-iron fences. Despite how soggy and cold I felt, I couldn't help but wonder what the townsfolk were going on about! These people probably just liked to embrace all things creepy and crawly.

I wiped the rain from my face, and noticed mascara stained my hands black. Great, I look like a friggin' raccoon now! I thought, desperately trying to find napkins somewhere in my purse. The door creaked open as I was wiping the mascara off of my face with a Taco Bell napkin, and I saw an extremely tall man with a square face standing in the doorway. He had to hunch over in order to properly see me, and was dressed in a full suit.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I said in a hurry, stuffing my wet, soiled napkin back into my purse. I quickly motioned to the storm outside. "The, uhm... the rain slowed me down. I don't have a car, unfortunately. Um... I'm here about the ad?"

The tall man smiled. Lighting struck and thunder cracked as he did so, adding an uncomfortable amount of drama. He turned and began walking away, leaving the door open. At first, I thought he was going to close it in my face, but a moment went by before I realized he meant for me to follow him. I quickly ran inside, the mansion was colder than I had hoped, and carefully shut the door behind me.

I followed the tall man through the manor. The walls were covered with various pictures. Old family members in black and white look sternly ahead, though I could swear I saw their eyes following me as I walked by. A painting hangs over an unlit fireplace depicting a witch burning at the stake, which only furthered the unsettling atmosphere I found myself in. There were a couple of more recent ones as well, depicting a young girl in black, and a pudgy boy with short, black hair. Must be their kids, I thought.

Not long after, I found myself in a conservatory. Gnarled plants on tables line the large windows. A tall, slender woman in a clinging black dress stands in the middle, trimming a black rose bush. She noticed us enter, and she gave a slight smile.

"Ah, a guest. Thank you, Lurch." She said, coolly. The man gave a stiff bow, and left without a word. The woman in black locked eyes with me. "So, what brings you here on this fine afternoon? Were you responding to the ad?"

"Ah, yes ma'am! My name is Sherry. I'd normally agree with you, but the one time I didn't want rain was the day it happened!" She gave a weak laugh, but the woman didn't break her gaze. It was paralyzing, but I cleared my throat. "Anywho... I'm new in town, and I was looking for some extra cash. Times are tough, and when I saw the ad I figured... you know, I like kids! I figured I could watch over your little rascals while you're out and about!"

The woman's scarlet lips split into a smile. "Aahh, I'm happy to hear it! We've had that flier out for a while. I'll be honest, I was about to give up hope of ever finding a babysitter!"

"Y-yes, well... The locals didn't seem to fond of you guys, I'm not going to lie. They warned me about how "creepy" and "kooky" you guys are, but I figured they were just... I don't know... judging a book by its cover? I don't mind the creepy crawlies too much, so I think we'll get along just fine, eh?"

The woman seemed to glide across the ground as she came to shake my hand. "Morticia Addams is the name. Welcome to our terrifyingly humble abode." She motioned around her with her hands, "I'm glad you don't carry the same... prejudices some others have. I won't lie, though. You're not the first to come about the ad. Our kids... well, sometimes their creativity can get to be too much for our babysitters. We haven't been able to get them to stay more than one night! Heck, we've had a couple of people run off before we could pay them!" She let out a hearty cackle, and I weakly joined in with her.

"Haha, yeah, I'd at least have stayed for the money! At least, if it's as bad as you're saying..."

"Oh, nonsense! You're different from the others. Trust me, darling." She gives me a grin, "Besides, we always pay fairly. Even if it's not to your standards the cash will stay the same, if you'd like to get mercenary about it."

"Well, in that case... would you mind telling me how much I'll be paid?" I said meekly, afraid I'd seem ungrateful if I spoke about money too much. With a grin, Morticia led me back into the manor and to an office. She began pulling some lockboxes out with an old key. My mind wandered as she went through the boxes, and I began wondering if this job was right for me. Maybe I'm in over my head. The children's "creativity" seemed ominous, but there's no way that it's that bad, right? The entire town just hates the Addams Family. Maybe I should just make her way back out of the house, just to save my skin!

Though, once Morticia threw a heavy bag on the table, filled with coins and gems, I quickly changed my demeanor. "So..." I began, "When will I get started?"

[[This was fun! Maybe I'll continue this, if I get inspiration. It's a bit of a departure from what I usually do, after all!]]

You, new in town and strapped for cash, see an ad in the paper; apparently, a "Gomez and Morticia Addams" are in need of a babysitter to watch their two children during a business trip. Despite the VERY high pay, no one has pursued it. Ignoring warnings from the locals, you sign up.

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut!! not much plot!! kind of emoshie too tho MDNI

notes: fem!reader, no use of y/n. inspired by a scene from part III of ruins of us, so don't come for me when you see this scene in there too lol

I also barely proofread this sorry

In the quiet of Alexandria, the first real quiet you’ve had in what feels like forever, the two of you sit side by side on the porch steps, sharing a silence that says everything and nothing at all. Daryl’s thumb idly brushes the edge of your hand, a rare gesture, but you notice it. He’s tense, uneasy in the stillness of this place where people laugh and gather like the world outside doesn’t still burn.

You take a breath, finally standing, and hold out your hand. “Come on.”

He stares at your hand for a second, something unreadable flickering in his gaze, then he reaches for it. His grip is strong, his skin rough, and as he lets you lead him inside, he’s silent but attentive, like he’s half waiting for the rug to be pulled from under him.

In the bathroom, you glance back at him, feeling something tight and warm in your chest. He’s watching you with that familiar intensity, one that can only be found in the private moments away from everyone, just you two in your own space. You step closer, your fingers reaching up to the collar of his shirt, carefully peeling away the fabric stained with dust, grime, and sweat. His breathing is almost inaudible, but you feel it, each steady exhale brushing against your skin as he watches you work, layer by layer, his guard slipping with every piece.

When you pull off your own clothes, you don’t shy from his eyes. They’re guarded as always, but there’s something else there too, an almost reverent way he lets his gaze roam over you, taking in every part of you that’s been hidden under layers and dirt. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time in weeks—maybe months. The sound of the water brings you back, its steady, warm rush filling the room with steam, curling around you like an invitation.

You step in first, shivering as the hot water cascades down your back. Daryl follows, closing the glass door behind him. As he moves under the spray, the water runs down his face, through his hair, carrying with it the weight of miles, fights, sleepless nights. You take the bar of soap and lather a small rag, moving close to him, feeling the heat of his body beneath your fingertips. He closes his eyes, letting you guide him, trusting you in a way he rarely allows himself to trust anyone.

Your hands work over his shoulders, firm yet gentle, tracing the muscles that have carried him through every hard road and long night. There’s a small tremble as your fingers brush over a scar, a reminder of another life. You let your hand linger there, pausing, pressing just a little, showing him in silence that you remember every bit of what brought you both here. Daryl swallows, and you catch the faintest edge of vulnerability in his eyes as they open, catching yours with a gravity that makes the breath catch in your throat.

You move lower, your fingers sliding down his arms, washing away the grime in gentle strokes, lingering, memorizing the feel of him beneath your touch. When you reach his hands, you lace your fingers with his, feeling the strength there, the familiar roughness that’s so uniquely his. You smile, just a hint, and for a moment, a soft, almost shy smile ghosts over his lips.

As you pull the soap away to wash yourself, his hand stops you. He holds your wrist, his touch firm yet delicate. “My turn,” he says quietly, his voice low, a rasp that holds a world of unsaid things.

His hand moves carefully as he takes the soapy cloth and begins to trace slow, steady circles on your shoulders. The warm cloth glides over your skin, and you feel his fingers linger just a little longer than necessary, like he’s savoring this rare chance to touch you after weeks of only thoughts of survival. His hands move down your arms, so gentle it feels like he’s memorizing you all over again, learning every curve, every line. The heat of the water and his touch seem to blur together, wrapping around you, grounding you in the present.

He moves lower, the cloth brushing over your stomach, his fingers firm yet tender. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, holding you there in his gaze, and it feels like the world has shrunk down to just this moment, just the two of you. There’s a weight to his touch, like he’s saying everything he’s never found the words for.

He softly, slowly, turns you around and you think he’s going to begin scrubbing your back, but he reaches for your waist, and the cloth slows, his hand lingering as he continues making small circles. You exhale, your breath coming shallow as he closes the space between you, pulling you against his chest. You feel his fingers press gently, a question, an offer. The feel his heart, steady and strong against your back, calms you as he feels you with the cloth moving up your stomach, moving in slow, deliberate strokes over your breasts, his breath warm against the side of your neck.

You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, the warmth of the water, the gentleness of his hands, the way he’s holding you like you’re something fragile and precious. You lean your head back against him, eyes fluttering shut and letting the water hit your face from the shower head. You feel his grip tighten, his breath hitch as his hand moves lower, gliding down your stomach, his fingers trembling slightly as they reach your hips.

And in that moment, you feel him against you, hard and unyielding against your back. Your breath catches, and you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, his face inches from yours. There’s a fire there, barely contained, a want that matches your own. His fingers dig into your hips as he holds you closer, his mouth brushing over your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin.

As his hands travel lower, your skin prickles with anticipation, every inch of you attuned to his touch. The air between you is thick with unspoken need, weeks of restrained desire spilling over, saturating the space around you with a quiet intensity. You can feel the tension building as he reaches down, his hand moving carefully, deliberately. The soapy cloth brushes over your thighs, lingering, teasing, before he lets it drop to the floor, forgotten, freeing his fingers to explore you without the barrier.

He leans you back against his chest even closer, solid and warm, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of him, your senses sharpening as his hand slips between your thighs, his fingers sliding down to find you already wet, warm, and aching for his touch. His breath is a low, throaty murmur against your ear as he feels how ready you are, and you can hear the satisfied growl that rumbles in his chest as he presses his fingers against you, gliding over your softness with a deliberate slowness that makes your knees weak.

“Been waitin’ for this,” he murmurs, his voice rough, each word sending a thrill down your spine. His fingers begin to move in slow, steady circles, each stroke purposeful, as though he’s savoring the way your body responds to his touch. The sensation builds with each movement, his hand creating a rhythm that matches the pulse thrumming through you, leaving you clinging to him, one of your hands gripping his neck for support as he works you closer to the edge. The other rests against your chest, slow and tantalizing against your breasts.

You let out a soft moan, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder, your breaths coming faster as his fingers explore you, slipping deeper, curling just right, making your whole body tremble. He tightens his hold on you, pressing his mouth to your neck, kissing, nipping, his hot breath delicious against your skin. The friction of his fingers sends waves of pleasure radiating through you, and you arch into him, pressing yourself closer, feeling the solid strength of his body holding you steady, silently begging for more.

“Like that?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and thick with satisfaction as he feels you respond to his touch, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. His fingers press deeper, finding that perfect spot that makes you gasp, a soft cry spilling from your lips as he intensifies his rhythm, each movement drawing you closer, building the tension until it’s almost too much.

He doesn’t let up, his hand steady, fingers curling, his thumb tracing gentle circles that make your body tighten, the pressure coiling in your belly. His other arm holds you firm, keeping you steady as he works you over, his mouth moving to your ear, whispering words you can barely make out, each rough syllable sending a fresh shiver through you. The combination of his voice, his touch, the way he’s holding you like he can’t bear to let go—it all drives you higher, until you’re teetering on the edge, every nerve alive, every inch of you aching to fall.

“So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he murmurs in your ear, “pussy always so needy, so ready for me–it’s been too long, baby,” 

“Daryl…” His name slips from your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and he growls in response, his fingers moving faster, more insistent, until finally, the tension shatters, and you’re left clinging to him as waves of pleasure roll over you, your body shuddering against his as he holds you close, his hands never leaving you.

As you come down, your breaths still uneven, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, his hand gently stroking over your skin, grounding you, bringing you back from the high. You lean back against him, your head resting against his shoulder, feeling his heart beating steady and strong, a quiet reminder of the connection between you, of the intensity that’s been building for far too long.

You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and there’s a gleam in his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you with a satisfaction that leaves your heart racing all over again. He brushes a hand over your cheek, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning forward, his lips find yours, tentative at first, then deeper, more fervent as his hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. You melt into him, losing yourself in the taste of his mouth, the familiar scent of him mixing with the steam that’s blanketing the two of you. His kisses grow hungrier, more insistent, the warmth between you intensifying as his hands reach down further, gripping your ass with roughness that makes you squeal. His grip on you tightens, his hands rough and possessive as they knead your skin, pulling you against him with a desperation that makes your heart race. The low growl that escapes him as his hands continue their palming of your cheeks sends a thrill through you, and without thinking, you wrap a leg around his waist, bringing him flush against you.

You both shudder as his hardness presses perfectly between your legs, a friction that ignites every inch of you. His breath catches, mingling with the steam and your own hitched sighs. You feel him slide against your wet, gushing lips, and you press down further, chasing the friction he offers between your legs.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs, voice low and thick as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips and teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His grip on you tightens, pulling you against him with a roughness that makes you gasp, your hands clinging to his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin as he holds you close.

“Daryl, wait,” you whisper into his skin, feeling his breath hot and ragged against your neck as you pull away just slightly. The look in his eyes, dark with blown pupils, makes you hesitate, a storm of longing and vulnerability held there as he tries to read your intentions, unsure if you truly mean to pull away from his warmth, his need, his fervor. A flicker of uncertainty crosses his features, a silent question in the tight set of his jaw, and before he can think anything of it, you slip away, dropping slowly down to your knees before him.

From this vantage, he’s breathtaking. Standing tall above you, his damp hair falls around his face, shadowing his gaze, droplets tracing lines down his jaw and dripping onto your skin, adding to the heat already burning between you. His body glistens with drops of water, the slopes of his chest and stomach mesmerizing as the shower’s spray falls around you both. His broad frame blocks the full force of the water, sheltering you in this intimate space.

“What’re ya—” he starts, but his words cut off with a harsh intake of breath as your hand wraps firmly around the base of him, your fingers barely meeting around his girth. The sound he makes—a strangled, low whimper—reverberates through the steam-filled space, and his hands fly forward to brace himself. One hand anchors in your hair, steadying his weight with a gentle hold, while the other presses against your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as he watches, chest heaving.

“Baby… you don’t have to…” he rasps, his voice thick and trembling as he struggles to speak. But the low groans he lets slip with every slow, deliberate movement of your hand make it clear he doesn’t want you to stop. You meet his gaze, a teasing glint in your eye as you flatten your tongue against him, trailing slow, languid strokes along his length, savoring every shudder, every soft moan that slips from his lips.

When you take him fully into your mouth, cheeks hollowed with a fierce, focused hunger, his control shatters. His hand tightens in your hair, a mix of gentle guidance and barely-contained restraint, his hips instinctively pressing forward as he lets his head fall back into the cascade of the shower, his breath a rough gasp against the tiled walls.

“Shit,” he whispers, voice ragged, almost reverent, as his other hand finds its place on the back of your head, steady and protective, losing himself in the feel of you. You can sense his restraint, how carefully he holds back, letting you set the pace, his muscles taut as if he’s fighting against every instinct telling him to give in.

You move with a steady rhythm, taking your time, mouth and hands working together to bring him closer and closer to the edge. Every gasp, every groan that spills from his lips fuels the fire between you, each sound a delicious reward as he lets himself unravel in your hands. His moans vibrate through you, making you feel every ounce of his need and raw desire as he allows himself to fall apart under your touch.

But then, suddenly, as if remembering himself, his grip in your hair tightens, and he pulls you away, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he looks down at you, nearly busting from the sight of you—kneeling, head tilted back, cheeks flushed, lips wet and swollen, parted and ready. From his perspective, you’re utterly captivating, the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Your wet hair sticks to your skin, strands of it catching on the dampness of your face, your neck and the rest down and flowing behind you, soaked and clean. The water beads on your skin, tracing delicate trails down your neck, glistening along the curve of your collarbone and catching on the subtle lines of your muscles, and he’s completely mesmerized. 

You catch the intensity in his gaze as he absorbs the sight, his restraint wavering in the face of his raw, undeniable want. He swallows hard, then leans down, his other hand coming to your cheek again, cupping you with a gentleness that feels like a promise, and kisses you deeply, thoroughly, his tongue sweeping inside your mouth to taste himself on you, each movement as consuming as the last.

A soft moan slips from your lips as he kisses you, and he lets out a sound—a low, growling sigh—as he pulls you to stand, holding you close. His hand drops to your waist, fingers sliding down to find your hip and then lower to your thigh, hitching your leg up around him again in one smooth movement. He presses you firmly against the warm tile wall of the shower, his body a solid weight against yours, grounding you in the moment as he leans in close. 

The sensation of him, rock-hard and twitching against you, has you quivering, and you can feel the urgency in his touch as he pushes agonizingly slow into your walls, letting you adjust to his girth for a long moment as you suck in deep breaths, holding him close with your hands over his shoulders. “Jesus,” he mutters against your skin, voice low and thick, his breath coming fast as he slowly begins to grind into you, as he feels you pulsing around his cock, the tightness electric as he begins to move in a tantalizing rhythm. You gasp, clinging to him as his hand slides down your thigh, holding you steady as he presses harder, opening you up for him further. His other hand slides between you, fingers teasing over your slick skin, each slow, deliberate circle overstimulating to already your sensitive clit. His thumb grazes over it, and a tremor runs through you, your hips bucking into his hand, uncertain if you want more or if its too much, but you crave the way he pushes you closer to that brink with each stroke.

He lifts his head, his eyes dark and intense as he holds your gaze. “You feel so damn good,” he growls, his eyes flickering from watching himself buried in you to your lips, and he finally pushes his mouth into you for another deep, searing kiss as his hips dig harder against you, the friction a delicious, toe-curling pressure that makes your body tighten with need. His mouth moves over your jaw, down your neck, teeth grazing your skin with a hunger that sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

Without warning, he adjusts his angle, snapping his hips forward with brutal force, finding that perfect spot that makes your head fall back, your eyes fluttering shut again as you gasp his name, the word spilling from your lips in a breathless moan. His hand on your thigh tightens, keeping you open for him, holding you steady as he moves, each thrust deliberate, intense, sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. The rhythm he sets is deep and powerful, every stroke designed to make you feel every inch of him.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a low rasp, and when you open your eyes, his gaze is filled with something dark, possessive. There’s a smirk playing at his lips, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he watches you, every moan, every gasp, feeding that hunger in him. The pleasure builds, a coiling tension in your belly that threatens to spill over, and you bite your lip, trying to hold back the cries that rise up in your throat as his pace quickens, the intensity between you burning hotter. His hands grip you harder, pulling you against him as his mouth finds your neck again, nipping and biting, leaving little marks of possession on your skin. He snaps his hips into you with irrevocable need and your breaths come in short, wanting gasps as he presses into you, his thumb still against your clit, while the other stays locked on your thigh, his bruising hold keeping you from falling. His mouth finds yours again, devouring you as if he can’t get enough.

You try to kiss him back, you really do, but its all you can do to not gasp and moan against his lips, the pressure building too recklessly inside of you. The feeling of power in him as he moves, the strength in his body, the way he holds you as if you’re something he can’t bear to let go of, only makes your skin shiver even more. 

“Daryl…” you moan again, the sound barely a whisper as you feel yourself hovering on the edge, the pressure coiling tight, ready to explode. It’s like it’s the only thing you can think, only thing that coherently comes out of your mouth. His grip on you tightens, his voice low and hoarse in your ear.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through you as his pace intensifies, each thrust more relentless, pushing you closer, until finally, you shudder, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless, your moans filling the shower as you unravel.

Moments later, he lets out a strangled groan, his grip on you fierce as he follows, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his body tense and shuddering as he holds you close, as if he’s letting himself go completely, surrendering to the pleasure that has overtaken you both.

[jazeswhbhaven]

A Successful Hunt in Heaven | React | Spoilers | Prologue

LETS GO YA'LL

First, let me say that this is completely different than Levi's Torture story and when I get a chance to read the rest of this???? I'm pretty sure it's gonna be a 10...

Cause let's jump in???

We start with the fact that MC is standing in front of a throne, everything is in white and angels are calling them Gabriel.

I was like???? AYO ARE WE GABRIEL???

It seems, that we are indeed Gabriel....

it's so good to see our angry bae again, even if he's cussin' us out

not that he can help it, we are literally Gabriel right now. but why the fuck are we????

SO it's flashback time and we're in Gehenna after a big battle. Three kings Mammon/Levi/Beel came to help out and the results were victorious.

Mammon is so that guy because if I were watching him lifting buildings with ease all day, I would. Lemonade in hand like those ladies watching the lifeguard at the pool.

So the kings are talking amongst themselves about Satan reacting to Mammon's saying of "how Gehenna is his so ofc he's gonna help" and Beel saying that Satan would headbutt him with his horns if he heard him and it's surprising that he didn't (foreshadowing??)

Mammon just loves to call his boyfriend small huh? Lol

We know Beel, you like to spy on us. Next you're gonna be randomly showing up when we're showering or something and be like HEY JUST CHECKING UP ON YOUUUUU.

My stinka boo. <3

Anyways....

Leviathan, give me one reason why I shouldn't box with you right now. One good reason other than the fact that I can't fight demons 💀

I ain't payin' you nary a cent back.

But yeah everyone starts to depart though, since the job is done and it's time for the devils of Gehenna to relax and chill!

I'm crying because I like how Levi and Beel's dynamic here is still "Ugh my dumbass best friend that annoys me sometimes" because He was getting onto Beel for being careless and making Bael work too much and Beel was like "Awh but you're closer to me :(((((" and Levi is like "Nah you got 6 other kings" skskskkskskksks And then he drags him away here? I love them your honor, their dynamic makes me crack up each time.

BUT now that this is over and done with we're at the PUB GETTIN' DRUNK LETS GET IT

Even Ppyong comments that he hasn't had a drink in a while and Sitri is over here yappin' about tea and how long it takes to brew compared to just pouring alcohol and throwing it in your mouth. Then a funny thing with Leraye happens...

I can hear him in my head and it's hilarious. Because Leraye why you sayin' it like this? lmaoooo

After being chided that he was being too damn loud in his ear and some other interactions from the other nobles, it's then realized that Satan actually hasn't been around in a while. No one has seen him in a couple days and I'm just like....wait ya'll just been doing whatever and not concerned that your King is literally not around for over 48 hours? o k

We then get Belial/Jjyu busting in the pub and saying there's an emergency meeting to talk about Satan's disappearance. Turns out Zagan and Belial noticed that Satan has been gone for a quite a while, Zagan being the first to notice and so he called the meeting. During this time when everyone is thinking of what's happening and what's going on, with MC thinking more about the "how this happened" rather than the "how can we fix this"??? There's a solution right outside the door.....

BUT FIRST

Paimon is so real because if a bead can shut up Jjyu it really does give us a reality check on how small he is lmao

ALSO POINTING WEAPONS AT THE DOOR? ITS ON SIGHT?

Oh.

oh.

That's my cat daddy right there.

I'm so happy we get to have Ronove content ya'll. And so randomly too. I wonder if we will get other Abaddon devils as a cameo in the other cards??? Hopefully? MAYBE?

So the nobles are wondering who called him there, and it turns out Zagan did.

And he was trying to say that from the beginning but since Ppyong wasn't looking at him, he couldn't translate. To which Astaroth is like "Just speak tho." LMAO

Anyways,

It seems the Abaddon devils love the thrill of danger. Dantalian also seems to love that to where he will literally put himself in harms way. But I mean I guess the devils there are just built different as they keep saying anyways.

So in order to save Satan though, someone has to go undercover as an angel. Problem with that is devils are unable to lie so if they were caught they would immediately just give up and admit they were sneaking in. But MC....

LOL this dialogue had me like??? OMG p l s. First...this is actually for once something I'd say, more in a joking sense even though this is clearly a serious moment.

I also love how Sitri was like "okay but the only thing you know how to do is lie, MC" and I was like...thanks Sitri thank you so much for your support you have no idea how much it means to me /s

But he's right, MC doesn't know how to do anything else which at this point damn we still don't know how to fight with magic or something??? Anything??

Thank you for letting us know this information Ronove. You are a treasure.

So, we end up seeing Ronove's power in action btw. How it works is that he says the words, and they work as long as he doesn't swallow.

R o n o v e

I do not need to know how you were eating food with your butt. Thank you sir. (why did I go there? Because it's a joke that's been done already in another media lmao so if you know you know) Honestly though if not his butt then probably made another hole somewhere or he ate through his dick who the fuck knows this is Hell and he's from Abaddon, anything could go.

He's so hot I'm crying. Like...I'm trying to imagine what a wet voice is and it's making me shiver in a bad/good way.

So his power is in action, he says "you will be an angel" and he pretty much spits in in MC's mouth and mixes it up and tells you to swallow. (reference my thirst post with him saying to swallow it)

So, there's no specifics to his powers. It works, but not the in way anyone would expect. This type of theme in most stories always ends up bad in some shape or form when the words are vague or broad. So yeah MC was an angel alright.....

So we were back in Heaven, and now we understand that MC is possessing Gabriel's body. I wonder if he's aware that's happening and he's internally screaming or if he's just kinda unable to do anything about it and is unconscious the entire time?

It's believable surface wise because everyone is falling for it, even Satan who was cursing and spitting on MC/Gabriel to point where they had to gag him.

Ngl, I'd have a hard time being into this "roleplay" too because he legit doesn't know it's MC so he hates them. It's kind of like a revenge mirror thing from Gabe's christmas card (i still have to do a react on that btw)

THIS????? FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gabriel needs to make those faces more.

But the entire time MC was pretending to be Gabriel I was like "GURL FOCUS" because they kept getting distracted by Satan looking fine as fuck in those restraints and that gag in his mouth. Which I mean??? EYAH but we're here to do mission rescue. But now we about to do some

Mission I'm going to fuck Satan as the angel he hates. And I'm so anticipating that Satan is going to react and sort of like it....SO YEAH YEAH YEAH INDIRECT WAY OF CXC

I did not originally ship any of the angels with any of the Kings or Nobles butttttt after I get my hands on the rest of this card story I'll be a believer.

Funny thing though is that I did in fact get the artifact for that discounted 250 pull they give us each time and it clearly is a reference to the key from Hellraiser which is one of my favorite Horror films~

we have such sights to show you

Okay but crossover of Kings as each of the different Cenobites when? Cause I need it.

[bitchslapblastoids]

Prompted by your post about dnp inviting audience interaction: it /is/ really brave, and so interesting! I haven't been watching them for long at all and one of the biggest things that just drew me in and deeply fascinated me about them is how so much of their work (not just on stage) is in some way a conversation/interaction with their audience and the more you watch the more you notice it. No wonder its easy to be parasocial about them and about the Phandom itself!

To me, at least, they seem to be the sort of performers/creators that need a relatively high level of audience interaction in order to be inspired or for their work to feel meaningful. Like, im absolutely sure they could also create things without this close relationship with their audience but it seems to be what their naturally drawn towards? Obviously the problem has been in maintaining boundaries within that but it seems like that's going better now than at some points in the past, which makes me really happy for everyone!

Sorry about the long yap, this is so interesting to me and I just needed to express it a little

yes!!! i love this!!! so beautifully worded! no need to apologize at all - i am in such hearty agreement and actually think about this so often. i think the engagement with their audience is their superpower, and it runs so deep. what was one of dan's favorite things about phil before he met him? phil's interactive adventure videos, in which he was creating an interactive experience for his viewers.

when they film pinof1 together, what are they doing? they're answering an audience-submitted q&a. the audience interaction is literally baked into their foundation! <3

2010, dan's uni dorm. what's displayed behind him on his wall? art and letters sent to him by viewers. he films danmail vids where he opens and reacts to said art and letters and personally thanks the senders.

for years and years and years, what's at the end of every phil video? fanart! draw phil naked! (in retrospect literally so weird lol but shhh)

the ongoing avalanche of vyous and younows and tumblr reblogs/follows and responding to yt comments and retweets and and and. so much interaction. the videos directly engaging with twitter and tumblr creations. they see us, they know us, they get us.

their first book? included a double-page spread with dozens of pieces of phanart.

every single one of their tours has multiple essential audience interaction components, and even more brilliantly, with multiple different access points that are perfectly calibrated to their audience. too shy to speak up? send in a submission ahead of time. want to be a part of the masses? shout something out during the audience participation segments! and there's always the likelihood that they'll include fanart in the show itself, casually mention an actual actively popular fic, throw in an ancient phwedding manip, or just build whole segments of the show around our tropes and the world that we created with them. all of that keeps things exciting and engaging on stage, bc you never know exactly what's going to come next. but it also keeps their audience feeling seen, valued, and like co-creators in a way.

When you look at the other britcrew and big yters from the 2010s, they simply weren't generating that ongoing, authentic conversation with their audiences. their approach followed the simple format of: i post, you watch. and then it became: i post, you watch, then i try and sell you something while i call you my 'community' because you are all watching me and sometimes you talk to one another in the comments. but it's not like zalfie or joe and casper etc. were chiming in on the convos too, or at least not in any meaningful way. it wasn't a community in the same way.

dan and phil truly built community. i think communities require mutual exchange, communication, a sense of value and worth, commonly agreed upon truths, shared experiences, touchstones of connection, and leaders who have integrity. i know this is all starting to sound a little lofty, but i really do think dan and phil are good humans who have worked hard to wield their power and influence responsibly and compassionately. they set the tone for us, constructed this world, paid attention to what landed for us, how we responded to things, everything that we were up to in response to what they were up to. they listened. they made us feel seen and celebrated and appreciated, and in turn we continued to celebrate them. they created weird inside jokes, we adopted them, then we all shared the weird inside jokes. they existed, we created our own language and lore and encyclopedia in response, and now there's a whole stage show about it.

that's how you get people sticking around for 15 years. that's how you get people to actually want to spend money on you. and yeah, some more boundaries at times couldn't have hurt. they fostered a sense of proximity and entitlement that obviously put them in harm's way. but i'd say ultimately what they've manage to do has been a net good for them and a tremendous success.

you raised such a good point that it seems to be what they are naturally drawn towards. i think it's because they, too, were fangirls. phil was writing buffy fic. dan was running a lost wiki. they both understood the power of online fan community before they were the titans of their own. they get it, they get us <3

[3amfanfiction]

Thinking about a ghost who keeps his mask on because the face is the hardest part to keep human.

When he first came back he would spill out of his flesh at the slightest stimuli. A breeze had three arm-like protrusions erupting from his back. A dog bark resulted in his torso splitting vertically down the middle from his shoulder to groin. When he stepped on a stick and it cracked he lost his shape completely, sharp spikes ricocheting out of his body at random, elbows bending backwards before 5 hands grew out of his arm, head showing only teeth.

He’d come a long way since then.

It was slow work, learning how to control it when his body didn’t want to maintain its shape. Trial and error left bodies in his wake—people terrified of this thing walking around that looked like a man only some of the time. And we all know how scared people react.

It took time but he did it. He mastered it. All of it.

Except for the face.

His face had a habit of dropping its skin at a moments notice. Someone coughed and you could see how his back molars rested against each other, his cheeks disappearing.

Or the shape would morph. Nothing too dramatic but his nose would shift an inch to the side while his tongue stretched like hot taffy spun between hooks.

So he started wearing a mask to hide it. He had a job to get back to—a new team to meet and he couldn’t afford to waste any more time with this. Covering it up seemed the best option.

So he went about his life, starting with the 141. He fit like a glove and they never pressed about the mask. It was perfect.

Until the day one of them saw. An enemy had gotten too close, their knife made quick work of the fabric before ghost broke their neck. When he turned around it was gaz watching him—watching the way his teeth shifted to points before disappearing completely, leaving gaping, bloody holes in his mouth, watching the way his lips would peel back in a Glasgow smile before restitching themselves.

Ghost had come to expect the screams, the way people would ward him off like he was some demon, the aggression that wasn’t very far behind.

So when all gaz said was just a sec, lt, I have a spare mask in my pack just in case, after a quick double take, ghost was floored.

Where was the cursing and screaming and crying?

But gaz acted like it was just another day, pulling out the spare mask he’d stuck down in his pack ages ago just in case it was ever needed, handing it over to ghost once he shook it out.

And ghost waited for the other shoe to drop. 30 seconds, 5 minutes, 2 days—nothing. Gaz just didn’t care. He didn’t bring it up or make innuendos about it. It was business as usual.

And for the first time ghost felt like he might belong. That the 141 just may be the home he wasn’t aware he was searching for.

Now to break it to the other two. He bet he could make soap scream if he played his cards right.

[justwonder113]

Sharing a bed with Changbin

Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

My Masterlist

Summary: What happens when Changbin comes to pick you up after a night out with your friends.

Warning: Chaos just pure Chaos. Cursing as always; Reader is a female; Both reader and Changbin are dummies. Literally idiots in love; Mentions of drinking, reader is a bit tipsy at the start. mentions of kissing. NOT PROOFREAD. Please tell me if I miss anything.

A/N- Heya babies I'm back! I really hope you'll like this, I really had fun writing this so I hope you will enjoy it. If you have any request of just thoughts to share please feel free to do so. Also if you want to be added to the taglist either comment or massage or even send an ask.

Word count- 3.5k

Sometimes drinking alcohol and getting drunk with your best friends was all that you needed to unwind after a hard week of working your ass off. However, as much as you loved feeling this light, carefree, relaxed and let’s just simply say euphoric, alcohol intake also had its cons. For example, this lightness and relaxation came with the price of being unable to stand straight on your legs and your crush looking way more yummy than usual.

You weren’t really planning to go out. After a day you had at work all you felt like was to go home, take a warm bath and snuggle in bed with some good movie playing on the background. Your best friend came up with the idea to go clubbing and getting some overpriced but tasty drinks. You were reluctant at first but after thinking things over you decided to go. And it was great! You had time of your life and it was just what you needed to fully relax and wash off the stress of your daily life. The only problem now was that you had a bit too much to drink and could barely stand on your legs and you felt really dizzy. Also watching Changbin help your friend (who was also wasted if not more than you) get to her door, and mind you he got every one of your friends to their houses because it was really late and he didn’t want them to go with cabs in the middle of the night while in this vulnerable state. You had to call mama Seo and thank her for raising such a gentleman!

Okay maybe you were a bit biased, It wasn’t a secret your feelings for Changbin had been more than platonic. You two had known each other for quite a while. You didn’t know when it started but you two had been flirting around with each other since forever but neither one of you made that final move to make things official. So here you were stuck in the middle ground, where you couldn’t really be called just friends but you weren’t dating each other either.

Of course you would be more than happy to get out of that situation. At least you would try and move on from him if he didn’t want to date and make things official. You just weren’t sure how you should make the first move, you always kind of expected he would be the first one to ask you out.

You were startled out of your thoughts when you heard Changbin return in the car, you couldn’t help but smile as you took in his disheveled hair and rosy cheeks from the cold.

“Are you sleepy baby?” – He asked as he noticed your dazed eyes.

“Yea, but I can’t sleep. I shouldn’t.” You sighed out as you watched him start the car.

“Why is that bubz?” He looked at you for a second before shifting his gaze to the road.

“If I close my eyes I can not look at your pretty face!” You made sure to whine as dramatically as possible. Changbin let out one of his notorious cackles.

“God that was so cheesy!”-He wheezed out after a few seconds of laughing like he had been possessed with a spirit of an ancient witch.

You grabbed your own cheeks making sure to smush them together just enough, blinked at him all cutely and continued to tease him like the sweetheart you were. “Shut up you love me.”

“I do.” Wow how the tables turn he just admitted it like it was the most common fact ever. Grass is green, sky is blue and apparently Seo Changbin is in love with you.

“Wait really?” You really couldn’t believe your own ears.

“Yeah of course.” Again, he was so incredibly casual about it! Oh no you couldn’t let it slide.

“Why aren’t you asking me out to date then?” There it was, there was no return now.

Changbin not only snapped his head so fast that there might have been a possibility that he could’ve broken his neck, but he also stopped his car so aburtly you had to thank god there was no one behind you.

“What do you mean ask you out?” Wow was it so horrible to even imagine it? You thought you two had a thing. Were you wrong?

“Oh my god have I been misreading the situation the whole time? This is so embarrassing. I am so sorry…”

It was his turn to panic now, which made you feel a bit relieved, because you felt like you were losing your shit! “No no it’s not that I promise!”

“When what is?” You couldn’t hide your desperation now. Maybe you could blame it on alcohol later and hope to move on?

“I thought we were dating?”

…

A blink.

Another blink.

“Changbin what the fuck? How the fuck did you believe we were dating?” You were full on yelling now because what the fuck did he mean he thought you two were dating! Since fucking when?

“I don’t know! I just did! We already act like a couple so what’s the big deal? Wait you don’t like me?” Forget all the sappy shit, you felt like strangling him.

“I do but…” God how did you manage to get yourself in this fucking situation? “God this is giving me such a headache.”

Changbin looked just as lost and even guilty. “I’m sorry. But I genuinely thought we were dating.”

“Since when?” You had to get in the bottom of this, or else your head was going to explode.

“I don’t know, like Han’s birthday party? You remember when you kissed me?” He tried to reason but the new knowledge almost made you choke on your own spit. God was really laughing at you.

“I fucking did WHAT?”

“YOU DON’T REMEMBER?” Changbin full on screamed in shock. Really what did you do to deserve this?

“NO!” You screamed back, and with it went last drops of alcohol remaining in your body and your sanity. Ain’t no way you could return to being normal after this.

“I mean I knew that you drank a little that day but damn! You don’t remember kissing me?” Changbin had his face in his hands, the car still ignited just casually standing in the middle of the road. Thank god there was no one around.

“Fuck me I gotta stop drinking. No I don’t remember kissing you.” Honestly nothing seemed more tempting right now than crying your eyes out at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Unbelievable.” Your heart clenched at Changbin’s sulky and sad voice. You were furious at yourself for not remembering kissing this cinnamon roll.

“I’m sorry. What happened? Tell me a full story.” You pleaded as if hearing the full story would magically return your memories and make the situation any better.

“I don’t know, I walked you home, we were about to say goodbye and you kissed me. I thought that you were drunk but you confessed that you liked me and it seemed so sincere, and we’ve been flirting for ages! How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t remember anything?”

“This is so unfair! You are telling me I have been literally dreaming about how would kissing you be like and in reality I have already done it?” Talk about unfair!

A biggest smile broke on his face and his whole mood shifter 180. “Aww baby you’ve been dreaming about kissing me?”

You really felt like pulling your own hair out now.  How was he so calm all of a sudden? “Binnie, baby, respectfully shut the fuck up.”

“But you like me!” He looked so giddy now, what a precious dummy. You really felt like shutting him up with a fat smooch on his lips. You had to pull yourself together.

“Bin you had been convinced we had been dating I don’t know for how many months now. I had you THAT convinced. Of course I fucking like you.”

“Aww you said it again that you like me!”

“I swear to god Seo!” Changbin gasped like he had been slapped making you also flinch in shock.

“Not the last name! I liked it better when you called me Binnie and baby and love and all the sweet stuff.” Was he serious right now? A smile broke out on your face against your will, he was so cute.

You sighed in defeat. “Okay I won’t call you by your last name.”

“Also not the first name. I’m Binnie to you!” To make his point he even crossed his arms, his lips all pouty and cheeks all fluffy.

“Okay Binnie.” You held in your pinky as a promise, he immediately linked it with his feeling satisfied.

 You two sat in silence for a few seconds, thankfully he started to drive again. “So like what do we do now?” He broke the silence looking at you with confused eyes.

“I don’t know Bin, let me think for a sec?”

“But” - He tried to protest but you didn’t let him.

“Please baby?”  You gave him the best puppy eyes ever, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to resist. You just needed a second.

“That’s not fair, You know I can’t say no when you ask me like that!”

The ride to the home was quiet, with the only problem arising when you were in front of your house.

“Bin I Think we have a problem.” You sighed feeling way too drained to care about this new problem.

“Wait what? Why?” You cured yourself for making him feel anxious, you quickly leaned in and grabbed his hands.

“Calm down baby.” You tried to reassure.

“What is it?”

“I just can’t find my keys.” You admitted bashfully.

“Are you kidding? Did you lose them somewhere?”

“No. I gave it to my friend when we left the house, she just found it in her purse she just texted me.”

“Oh thank god I thought we had to change the locks. Do you want me to go back to her apartment?” Really who was this cute and adorable? This was so unfair for your heart.

“What? No, it would be such an inconvenience. I mean we can go at your house?” You already felt like a hassle you didn’t want to tire him more, It was really late too.

“My house?” Changbin sounded genuinely so surprised you thought you said something wrong for a second. Changbin returned to normal in a second. “I mean it’s not a problem but like our sofa broke, turns out you can’t just like wrestle for the better controller or something like that. Okay what am I even saying you can take my room, me and Hyunjin had shared a bed so many times anyways.”

“It’s fine tho.” Your voice was quiet almost like a whisper.

“What is?” You looked at his face, he looked genuinely confused. You rolled your eyes, he really couldn’t take a hint sometimes.

“I meant that we can share a bed.” You tried your best to sound as cool and as casual as possible even though your heart felt like bursting.

“We can do what now?” he really looked like he couldn’t believe his own ears.

“I mean apparently we had been dating for months now.”

“Hey don’t tease!”

“I gotta do something! My head feels like exploding! We managed to get ourselves in quite a situation right here!” You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “Anyway what I’m saying is that I’m completely fine sharing a bed with you. We’ve established that we like each other so I don’t see the problem here.”

“That’s what I thought the first time too! What if you forget again! What if you wake up in the morning not remembering anything and you’re just there in my bed with me in it! You’ll think I’m some sort of pervert and that I took advantage of you when you were drunk!” There he was being all dramatic and huffy all again.

“I’m not drunk!” Who would be drunk after this?

“You were a few minutes ago!” He had a a point but now you felt more sober than you were before you started drinking.

“Well not anymore! How can I be drunk after all that? And I was just tipsy! I was just fine! You were the one worried and insisting that you come and take me home! For which I love you and appreciate you but still!”

Changbin crossed his arms. “I’m still not sure.”

“What you want me to do a video proof that I fully consent to this?”

Changbin glared at you but then smirked suddenly looking smug. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea!”

“God you’re so petty sometimes.” Two could play the petty game, you took out your phone and pressed the record button. “Hello future me! It is exactly half past thee in the morning and I’m sitting in the car with Changbin who is driving me to his home. This is a reminder to you in case that I forget in the morning that I fully concent to sharing a same bed with Seo Changbin. And to avoid any further miscommunication I will say in this video that I like him like a lot and appartenly he does return the feelings. However if when we get there he doesn’t kiss me I will end this either month long or minute long relationship right then and there!”

It was his time to roll his eyes now, but he clearly looked amused by all this. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m warning you Seo!” Ain’t no way you wouldn’t get your kiss now that you two were aware of each other’s emotions. No way in hell would count the one you didn’t even remember as your first kiss with him.

“Whatever my love shall request my love shall get!”

***

The ride to his house was quick which was great you were dying to take off your shoes. Whoever invented high heels deserved to burn in hell. Thank god Binnie came to pick you up.

Speaking of which, being the perfect gentleman he is, he immediately got out of the car, ran to your side all cutely and opened your door for you, holding in his hand for you to take. You obviously took it, appreciating the kind gesture and also support because your legs really were hurting like a bitch.

Changbin helped you get out of the car, he even closed the door for you. You were about to thank him but something stopped you Something in his eyes.

You weren’t even able to question anything, before you even knew it, he wrapped his arm around your waist brought you close to his body and in mere second his lips were on yours.

The kiss was firm but also full of love, he kissed you as he was afraid to let you go. His lips were so soft and warm and his body… It was so firm and strong and warm. No wonder you felt so safe and loved whenever you were with him, You couldn’t help but cling to him as you tried to return the kiss with the same vigor. Both of your arms tightly wrapping around his broad shoulders.

Your whole body felt like it was melting, you were sure you wouldn’t even be able to stand straight if it wasn’t him holding you so firmly. How was he even so good at kissing? His kisses felt like a drug and you were getting addicted by the second.

After a while he leaned back and you couldn’t help but actually whine, god what was he doing to you? Seeing you chase his lips made the biggest smile break out on his face. God He looked so beautiful with his flushed cheeks and messy hair, his lips all pretty and pink. Changbin leaned in and gave you few short pecks.

After he felt satisfied with the amount of kisses he gave you he decided to just randomly sweep you off your feet, quite literaly. One second you were somewhat steady on the ground the next you were in the air desperately clinging onto Changbin confused out of your mind.

“What are you doing?” – You managed to huff out giggling at his cute antics.

“You’re feet are hurting.” He said it like a matter of fact.

“I mean yes, but are you going to carry me until we get to your house?”

“Why not?” Again so casual, like holding you and walking up to his house which wasn’t that near wasn’t a big deal.

“Binnie I’m heavy!” You tried to protest, even squirmed a little but to no avail.

“Not really, no.”

“Binnie it isn’t worth it, I’m really heavy.”

“What’s the point of working out if I can’t even carry my girl!” Wow your heart must have done a literal backflip because what the fuck was that movement in your chest?

“I’m your girl?” You didn’t even try to hide the lovesick expression that overtook your face.

Changbin glanced at you for a second, then leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose- “Of course you’re my girl.” So not mindful of your poor heart amusement clear on his face clearly enjoying your flustered state. He continued walking as it was nothing, like holding you was same as holding couple of grapes. He only stopped when you two were in front of his house.

“Can you ring the bell?” He asked with the cutest smile ever, how in your right mind could you say no? You rang the bell then it hit you, the situation you were in. You quickly covered your face as if Changbin wasn’t holding you like you were main dish on a platter. The cackle Changbin let out seeing your antics almost woke up the whole building.

Hyunjin opened up the door after a few seconds, clearly he just rolled out of bed. You felt bad for possibly waking him up. He looked at you two with unamused eyes, Changbin still proudly holding you refusing to let you down, and you looking through your fingers clearly shy.

“Huh so my wife is cheating on me with my friend.”

“Uh pretty much? You’re still number one in my heart you know that.” Changbin answered proudly.

“Hey hyun!” You greeted him shyly after you made sure to smack Changbin’s shoulder.

"Hey! Took you two long enough to get together tho.” Hyunjin deadpanned as he let you two in, Changbin finally letting you down on the armchair.

“Oh let me tell you a juicy story then!” You smiled mischievously completely ignoring Changbin’s protests.

After telling Hyunjin everything and him making fun of you two, mostly Changbin, you decided to get ready for bed. Honestly they would be lucky if the neighbors didn’t call the cops on them, they were so damn loud!

Anyway here you were now, laying on one side of the bed all snug in Changbin’s clothes as Changbin laid stiffly on the other. Honestly, he looked like he would fall of the bed any second now.

“Bin you’re about to fall off the bed!”

“I’m fine.” God even his voice was stiff.

“Bin you literally took my breath away the way you were kissing me earlier what happened now?”

“I don’t think I should get any more close.” He grumbled out after a few seconds of silence.

“Why is that?”

Changbin scoffed like he was baffled how you weren’t understanding what was wrong. “You’ll think badly of me!” Again grumbling inaudibly.

“I promise I won’t.” You tried to reassure him, even held in your pinky finger which he begrudgingly took.

“It’s just you’re here in my bed, in my clothes, looking absolutely beautiful and we were kissing and you look so kissable right now… How am I supposed to control myself?” This boy was going to be the death of you. Who the hell was this cute and adorable and so kissable on a random Tuesday night!

“Then don’t.”

“Baby I swear to god!” Changbin covered his face and almost fell out of the bed, thankfully you managed to drag him to the center of bed just in time. Also this gave you a perfect opportunity. You wrapped your hands around him and hugged him tight, Changbin immediately uncovered his face to wrap his arms around you and hug you back.

“I like you a lot bin.” You mused and leaned in to softly peck his lips, Changbin almost immediately melted into your arms.

“I like you a lot too.” He muttered before bringing you closer to seal your lips in a longer more passionate kiss.

“We’re really really dating now so don’t you start getting shy on me okay?” You couldn’t help but tease.

Changbin groaned at the teasing clearly not amused. “Brat!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you got more comfortable getting ready to get one of the best sleeps of your life.

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ❤️

Taglist (comment if you want to be added^^): @velvetmoonlght

[leresq]

Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine. First of all I was not coming into this with high hopes because even though everyone was talking about how good this movie is I've never found the Deadpool movies funny. To me they're just different variations of "You haven't seen this in an Iron Man movie" stretched into two now three feature length films. But honestly I liked it at the end.

- Why are Logan's ears and one of his eyes not decayed when no other part of his body is intact? Why does he have a beard on his jawbone?

- I'll bite, the Bye Bye Bye is a fun idea. The wintery forest setting is cool.

- I can't enjoy that opening fight scene because it's not how anything works. You don't get bludgeoned with a dull object, have your body armour completely give way, and have a pint of blood splash out. I understand the whole point of Deadpool is that it's over the top, but this is just so overly gratuitous it's insane. I feel like Marvel Studios felt like they had to make it so unrealistically violent to try and separate it from the mainline MCU to get the people who have Deadpool funko pops to guffaw in the theatre. It's "You haven't seen this in an Iron Man movie" with zero words spoken. Honestly incredible.

- The CGI is better than it's been recently but it's still noticeably bad

- Peter Parker's Iron Man mask is on the desk in the background! How did that even get there.

- Why is Tony's ARC reactor on the table, I thought that was pushed into the river at the funeral

- The timeline is just so incredibly fucked. I still don't understand how the X Men timeline reboot works, or how Logan fits into it; if Logan dying means Deadpool's universe collapses, that implies the Logan movie is in the X Men reboot franchise, but Patrick Stewart is in that and James McAvoy plays him in the reboot making me think it's a one off... Augh my head...

- Something looks up with John Favraeu. I don't know if his wearing a wig is supposed to be obvious, I don't know if he's just under a lot of makeup or it's CGI, it's just weird.

- Deadpool is never going to be an Avenger because Marvel Studios would rather execute everyone working for them than give up the licencing deals from making PG13 movies, and Deadpool wouldn't feel the same in a PG13 movie.

- I think any brand would let Ryan Reynolds walk all over them in muddy boots, for some reason he gets the pass to slander anyone he wants to and he gets paid by the companies to do it.

- 'I don't have a lot of v*ginal sex' 🤨 that has numerous connotations. Also can we not do sex jokes in front of 12 year olds

- I was not expecting a Deadpool movie to contain any hints of character development because the previous two instalments seemed to be hellbent on making sure I understood nothing of emotional value would ever be allowed to appear without being undercut by a sex joke.

- "I've never been a natural bottom" 🤨🤨 I thought Poolverine was just the average two male leads naturally gets shipped together thing but no they're sowing the fields

- If that Thor crying over Deadpool never comes back I will say something about it

- If they didn't want me to know Paradox was going to be a villain why would they make him British

- The 'Suck it Fox' cut to nothing being there is the only time I will accept something raising more questions than answering them at this level as funny

- "Your tailor is a predator" caught me so off guard I started coughing

- Wow I wasn't expecting them to pull the Paradox is actually evil card not even a third into the movie. Honestly a good subversion of expectations.

- How is Deadpool's universe going to evaporate in 74 hours, I thought time doesn't exist at the TVA?

- Are they going to explain why Deadpool's suit can just fix itself now. It used to keep its holes.

- Finally, I think the first time we ever hear Deadpool is from Canada in the movies! I wonder if Ryan Reynolds only wanted to play him in the first place because they're both Canadian...

- "You two gonna fuck or fight?" 🤨🤨🤨

- I actually understood the Honey Badger reference

- the FF floating platform thingy is another reference I'm surprised I got

- The Human Torch CGI is actually really cool

- "Not all of you was asleep" after waking up on his shoulder 🤨🤨🤨🤨

- Too many cameos in Cassandra's little alcove so I'm not even going to bother looking for them all

- I'm not sure if Johnny Storm's death was supposed to be played for laughs or just shock value, either way I'm not laughing I loved those movies ;(

- How does Cassandra know she's Xavier's sister if she was sent to the Void before she could walk?

- Wolvie being nice to Johnny post mortem is cool

- Nicepool having a stronger Canadian accent is a good joke, and Deadpool looking on in disgust as Nicepool talks about his dog's 'G-spot' is good. At least that's not played off as just a normal thing to say even if it is a joke

- "I identify as a feminist" could easily be misconstrued as an 'anti-woke' joke but all of the jokes of a similar calibre in this movie seem to be made ironically. Example: Nicepool is a creep

- "Where's your mask" and Nicepool points to his face actually implying his nice guy attitude is a facade for being a shitty person is actually really good

- Why is Nicepool's car surrounded by untrampled corn, how did it get there? Who grew the corn?

- Deadpool includes Colossus in his world 🥺

- Wolverine is nothing if not an excellent shit talker, and it's actually very out of character for Deadpool to actually get affected by insults

- I wish The Greatest Showman soundtrack was incorporated for more than just a third of a second

- 'Close up magic' ant man reference?

- 'There's only ever gonna be one Blade' about that...

- I think that's Apocalypse's throne in Cassandra's room? Or Thanos's

- I never thought about how both Cassandra and Xavier's powers radiate from their heads until the Juggernaut helmet scene

- Finally some real actual genuine character development that's not thrown away for a joke!!! The best part of the movie to me was Cassandra's redemptio-. Oh. Nevermind. Anyway I like it better than if it were just shoved away for a joke then she died

- Deadpool waiting for the 'extras' to clear was, to me, a good indication that he's a hero now. Caring about civilians is #1 on my makes you a good guy requirements

- "You smell something?" "Yeah you" 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

- And there it is. Nicepool's death is probably the most predictable death I've ever seen on film.

- Eastside Pharmacy?! Agatha All Along reference???

- Wolverine's helmet looks like a rubber playground ball

- Will Marvel Jesus come back in three days however?

- Staring at Hugh's abs? Same, but 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

- That hand holding ending was actually impressive, I wasn't sure what was going to happen and it actually kicked ass

- Is the guy with the mug who stared at Deadpool in the beginning Marvel's first gay character

- The introducing Logan to Blind Al is so unbelievably 'the parents meeting the boyfriend' I could die there's no fucking way that wasn't on purpose

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

When the Tide Turns | Rafe Cameron

summary: the one where rafe is in love with his bestfriend’s sister

warnings: none i believe

word count: 4,212

——————————————

Rafe Cameron was never one for introspection. He preferred to live in the now, to act without hesitation, to indulge in whatever fleeting desires life offered. That was, until her. He knew it was a bad idea. He’d known it from the very first time he saw her — leaning against the railing of the Cameron family’s porch, laughing at something Kelce had said, her dark skin glowing golden in the afternoon sun. Her eyes, dark and deep like the night sky, shone with a curious mischief. He had caught himself staring, unable to look away, even as his best friend and the rest of the group continued their chatter around him.

"Rafe, you good?" Kelce had asked, snapping Rafe out of his daze.

Rafe had forced a smile, masking the turmoil inside. "Yeah, just thinking about something."

But that was the first time it hit him—he was in trouble.

He had tried to ignore it, told himself it was a phase, a simple crush that would fade. After all, Kelce was his best friend. He had known him for years. The thought of jeopardizing that bond for some fleeting attraction was beyond stupid. But every time he saw her, he couldn’t help it. The flutter in his chest when she looked at him. The way her laughter made everything else in the world fade into the background. He wasn’t used to feeling this way. In fact, he had never really felt this way about anyone. Rafe wasn’t the type to pine. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in anything more than a quick fling or a simple hookup. But with her? It was different. And that scared him.

It was the summer before their senior year of college and the Cameron beach house was filled with the usual chaos. The Outer Banks was at its peak tourist season, and the group of friends was used to spending most of their time down by the water. Rafe and his buddies, , had spent the day surfing and lounging in the sand, while the girls — and of course , Nia — had stayed behind at the house to cool off and relax. Nia was Kelce’s older sister, the one he’d always mentioned in passing but rarely brought around. She was a couple of years older than Rafe and the rest of the gang, which made her seem like this mysterious figure who was always out of reach. But Rafe had always noticed her. He wasn’t blind. She had this effortless elegance, something so unbothered about her presence that it drew people in.

And yet, she never seemed to be the type to crave attention. Her quiet confidence was intoxicating.

Nia had always been a little different from the others. The group would go out, get into trouble, and she’d hang back, listening to music or reading, never making a scene. She was insanely beautiful, almost too beautiful to be true. That was probably part of the reason why Rafe was so drawn to her—she didn’t *need* the attention. She wasn’t one to beg for validation. She simply was. But that afternoon, she was standing by the kitchen counter, wearing a flowy sundress that caught the late afternoon light. Her hair was braided loosely, a few strands framing her face, and she was making something to drink, humming to herself.

Rafe found himself watching her again. The way her fingers curled around the glass, the faint smile on her lips as she adjusted the jug of lemonade—he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was so beautiful, and yet so effortless about it. She wasn’t trying to be, and that made her even more captivating. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Kelce’s voice calling from the door.

"Yo, Rafe! Earth to Cameron!"

Rafe snapped back to reality, turning around with a sheepish grin. "Yeah?"

Kelce raised an eyebrow, following Rafe’s gaze and grinning. "You’ve been staring at my sister for, like, ten minutes, bro. You good?"

Rafe’s heart skipped. The last thing he needed was Kelce noticing, but there was no denying the tension in the air. "I’m fine," he said quickly, his tone more clipped than he intended. "Just... zoning out."

Kelce chuckled, but Rafe could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Just don’t make it weird, man," he teased, stepping inside. "She’s a lot to handle."

Rafe couldn’t help but grin mischievously , though his stomach twisted at the thought of handling Nia. It was a dangerous game to play. A game or two never hurt anybody. Kelce leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She’s way out of your league anyway."

Rafe bristled. "You don’t know that."

Kelce shrugged, his expression growing more serious, knowing his sister. "Trust me, I do."

Rafe wondered what he meant by that.

——————————————

Later that evening, the group gathered around the fire pit. The sun had set, and the sky was painted in hues of purple and orange as the waves crashed in the distance. Everyone was lounging on chairs, drinking beers, telling stories, and joking around, but Rafe couldn’t seem to relax. He kept glancing over at Nia, who sat a little further off, watching the fire with an enigmatic expression. The way she was sitting—her legs crossed, her chin resting in her hand—looked almost too perfect. And then, when she caught him staring again, she didn’t look away. Instead, she smiled.

A slow, knowing smile. She was baiting him. Rafe felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He looked away quickly, trying to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but it was too late. The pull between them, that silent acknowledgment, was too strong. He could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating.

"Yo, Rafe, you gonna sit with us, or are you just gonna stare at my sister all night?" Kelce’s voice rang out, loud and unashamed. The entire group laughed, but Rafe’s heart was pounding in his chest. This wasn’t good. He was spiraling, and he had no idea how to stop it. Nia’s voice interrupted the chaos, light and teasing. "Don’t worry, Kelce. Rafe’s probably just thinking about how to ask me out."

Rafe froze. The words hung in the air, as though they had a weight of their own. The fire crackled, the sound of the ocean filling in the silence that followed.

Kelce shot Rafe a look that was half amused, half suspicious. "You’re not really thinking about that, are you?"

Rafe stood up, his pulse racing. "I—"

Before he could say anything more, Nia’s soft laughter rang out, cutting him off. "I’m just messing with you, Rafe."

The tension in his chest didn’t loosen, though. If anything, it only made the moment more awkward, more uncertain.

It wasn’t long after that evening that things between Rafe and Nia started to shift. There was a subtle change in the air whenever they were in the same room. The awkwardness faded, replaced by a comfortable tension that both of them could feel but neither dared to acknowledge. They spent more time together, often alone, without the group around. The first time it happened was when Rafe found himself alone in the kitchen, trying to fix his broken surfboard. Nia appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in her hands, watching him in that quiet way she did.

"You need help with that?" she asked, voice low but full of humor.

Rafe shook his head, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. "I think I’ve got it, thanks."

She leaned closer, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Are you sure? Because I’m pretty good with tools, among other things."

The way she said it made Rafe’s stomach flip. His mind raced, unsure of whether he was imagining things, or if Nia was actually flirting with him. But before he could respond, she disappeared, her laughter trailing behind her.

—————————

It had been three weeks since Rafe Cameron first realized he was in over his head. Three weeks since the day Nia had arrived at the beach house, laughing at something Kelce had said, with that effortlessly cool vibe of someone who didn’t care about anything but enjoying the moment. From the first moment Rafe saw her, something in him shifted. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but everything felt different now.

But Nia wasn’t the type to make a scene. She was quietly confident, always in the background, like she had nothing to prove. It was that quiet strength that drew him in, but also made him feel like he was chasing something out of his reach. She wasn’t like the other girls he’d been with—more than just a pretty face with a smile that lit up a room. Nia had this presence, this calm, but also a mysterious, guarded aura that Rafe couldn’t shake. And the worst part? She seemed oblivious. At least, that’s what he told himself. Part of him hoped she knew the things he wanted to do to her, the way he thought about her. Kelce would lose it.

Rafe didn’t talk about his feelings. He didn’t have feelings, at least not for anyone who wasn’t a fleeting distraction. But Nia… she made him question everything. Every lingering glance, every laugh that vibrated in his chest, every time she brushed by him so close he could smell the coconut oil in her hair—it was like a spark in the dry kindling of his usual indifference. The fire was building, and he was terrified that it would burn everything to the ground.

---

The tension between Rafe and Nia wasn’t something that could be pinpointed on a single day. It was a slow, gradual thing, like the rising tide inching toward the shore, barely noticeable at first, but inevitable. Every time she smiled at him, Rafe felt that pull—a magnet drawing him in, an invisible thread weaving between them. And every time he caught her looking at him, her gaze lingering just a beat longer than necessary, his heart would skip in a way he’d never felt before. It was during those quiet moments that the tension truly began to take shape. No one else seemed to notice it. Kelce, his boys, and the rest of the group were too wrapped up in their own drama, too carefree to see what was happening. But Rafe couldn’t ignore it.

The first real turning point came one afternoon when Rafe found himself alone with Nia in the kitchen. It had been a long day of surfing, and most of the group had scattered to do their own thing—Kelce had disappeared to the beach to meet some friends, and the others were lounging in the living room. Rafe had made himself a sandwich, but the sound of the blender whirring stopped him in his tracks. Nia was at the counter, her back to him, slicing fruit for a smoothie. The low hum of the blender and the soft rustle of her movements were oddly soothing, and Rafe found himself standing there, watching her. She was wearing a simple tank top with no bra and shorts, her dark skin glowing in the soft light. The way her hands moved, so purposeful and graceful, made him feel like he was witnessing something intimate—something private. Rafe didn’t mean to stare. But he couldn’t help it. There was something about her that pulled him in. His breath hitched once he seen the jewelry around her nipples.

Nia turned, catching his gaze. The air between them thickened. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smile. "You need something?" she asked, her voice casual but with a hint of something deeper—something teasing. Rafe cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how awkward he must look. "Just… watching the magic happen," he muttered, his words coming out rougher than he’d intended. Nia’s smile grew wider, and she leaned against the counter, studying him. "You know," she said slowly, "you’ve been acting a little… off lately."

Rafe stiffened. "Off?"

"Yeah. Staring into space, zoning out during conversations. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve got this… look in your eyes." She paused, and the playful edge to her voice softened. "Like you’re thinking about something. Or someone."

Rafe swallowed hard. His heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Had she noticed? Had she known all along?

He forced a chuckle, trying to brush it off. "Nah, just tired. Been surfing all day."

But Nia didn’t look convinced. Her eyes never left him, and there was a knowing quality to her gaze that made his insides twist.

"Okay," she said slowly, dragging out the word. "But you don’t have to act so weird around me, Rafe. I’m not gonna bite."

The way she said it sent a ripple of heat through him. The teasing tone, the way her voice dipped just slightly at the end—was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell. Maybe it was just his imagination running wild. But even then, that seed was planted. He couldn't shake the feeling that the tension between them had shifted just a little. Maybe she was picking up on something too. Maybe she was playing with him, testing the waters. But whatever it was, it was undeniably there, and it was dangerous.

————————————-

The days that followed were a blur of stolen moments and heavy silences. There were no direct confessions—no grand gestures, no open acknowledgment of the pull that seemed to grow between them. Instead, it was the little things. The way Nia would brush against him when she passed him in the hallway, always so close, always so deliberate. The way her eyes would meet his across a crowded room, and for just a second, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. She bent over in front of him any chance she got, wearing skirts most of the time so that he could see her different color thongs. Rafe couldn’t seem to stop himself from responding, his body reacting instinctively, always wanting to bridge the distance. He was a guy who’d never been afraid of the chase, but with Nia, it wasn’t about that. It was about something else Something deeper, something that made him feel more vulnerable than he was willing to admit.

He didn’t understand it, and he hated the way it made him feel.

————————————

It was the night of the full moon when it all came to a head. The group had gathered on the beach for a bonfire. The ocean stretched out before them, dark and infinite, the waves crashing against the shore. The air was thick with salt and laughter, the sound of crackling wood filling the space between them. Rafe was drunk. Not enough to lose control, but just enough to feel reckless. The night was fading, the sky darkening above them, and everyone was starting to break off in pairs or small groups. But Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off Nia. She was sitting by the fire, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her face illuminated by the flames as she talked with Kie. It was so easy to let his gaze wander over her—so natural. She had this way of commanding attention without trying. The firelight danced on her skin, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the curve of her lips. Everything about her seemed to draw him in like a moth to a flamee.

It was at that moment, when she glanced over and caught his gaze, that Rafe felt his heart skip. She didn’t look away immediately. In fact, she held his gaze for a beat too long before a sly smile tugged at her lips, and she turned back to Kie. But the damage was done. The pull between them had shifted into something undeniable.

A few moments later, Rafe found himself alone by the edge of the water, trying to cool off. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore—he just needed a break from the intensity of the night. But then he heard her footsteps behind him.

"Nia," he said, turning just as she stopped beside him, close enough that their arms brushed.

"You’ve been acting weird again," she said, her voice low but direct. Rafe let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "You don’t give up, do you?"

She smiled, but there was something different in her eyes now—something more serious. "You think I don’t notice?"

Rafe didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, Nia took a step closer, her body now inches from his. "I’ve been noticing," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper above the crashing waves. "I know what you’ve been thinking."

Rafe’s breath hitched in his throat. His body tensed, every muscle screaming at him to back away, to walk away before things went too far. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

"You don’t know what I’m thinking," he said, his voice rough.

"I think I do," she replied, her hand brushing lightly against his arm, sending a shock of heat through him. It was the first time she had touched him like that. It was enough to set everything in motion. Rafe turned to face her, his heart hammering in his chest. "And what is that?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

Nia’s eyes flickered down to his lips before locking onto his gaze again. "That you’re trying to resist something that’s already happening."

———————————-

Rafe’s breath hitched in his chest at her words. For a moment, he was frozen, unable to move, his mind racing a million miles a minute. The pull between them felt *too much*—like the tension in the air before a storm, just waiting to break. His pulse hammered in his neck, and he couldn’t look away from her. Nia was so close now that he could feel the warmth of her body, the faint scent of coconut oil on her skin, the sweet, intoxicating fragrance of the summer evening air. She was standing just inches from him, but the distance between them felt like a chasm.

“You’re not wrong,” Rafe muttered before he could stop himself. His words hung in the air like an admission he hadn’t meant to make.

Nia’s lips parted slightly as she processed his response, her gaze never leaving his face. She didn’t smile this time, but her eyes softened. The playful edge that had usually colored her voice was gone, replaced by something more sincere, more searching.

“I didn’t think you’d admit it so easily,” she said quietly, taking a small step closer, her hand now hovering just above his. Her touch was almost electric, just a fraction of an inch from his skin, and it made Rafe’s heart race even faster.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore, but the air between them was thick, heavy with something that felt far too real to ignore. Nia was looking at him like she was trying to decipher him—her eyes searching his face, trying to figure out if what he’d just admitted was the truth.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Rafe asked, his voice hoarse, betraying the uncertainty gnawing at him. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Nia raised an eyebrow, a glint of something almost amused in her eyes. “Like what?”

“Like I’m the only thing that matters in the room.” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced. Damn it. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But it was too late. The words had left his mouth, and now the floodgates were open.

Nia was quiet for a beat, but when she spoke again, her voice was low, almost a whisper, as though she were letting him in on a secret only the two of them shared. “Maybe because you *are* the only thing that matters, Rafe.”

The weight of her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart seemed to stop for a second, before it started pounding faster, a crescendo of emotion building inside of him. He wanted to pull away—he needed to pull away—but his feet felt like they were glued to the sand. It was too late now. The magnetic force between them had already snapped.

Rafe exhaled shakily, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let his guard down. All of the pent-up frustration, the confusion, the desire—it all came crashing down on him at once. He stepped forward, closing the remaining gap between them until there was no space left. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the saltwater on her skin mixed with the faint scent of her perfume.

Nia didn’t pull back. She didn’t run, didn’t hesitate. Instead, she stood her ground, her eyes locked on his, unwavering.

“What are we doing, Nia?” Rafe breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air between them, charged with everything they hadn’t said to each other up until now.

Nia’s lips parted, her breath mingling with his, and for a moment, Rafe thought she might say something, anything that would pull them back from the edge. But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the distance between them, just a fraction of an inch, and pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath her fingers. Her touch was soft, delicate even, but it sent a shock of heat through Rafe, and the tension between them became unbearable.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Nia said quietly, her voice barely audible over the crashing of the waves. There was a vulnerability in her words that Rafe hadn’t expected. It was raw, unguarded in a way he hadn’t seen before.

Her hand slid from his chest up to his jaw, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin. He could feel the heat of her touch radiating through him, like a fire igniting inside him, and he couldn’t resist anymore. He stepped forward again, tilting his head slightly, eyes dropping to her lips. Everything else seemed to fall away.

The world around them, the sound of the waves, the crackling fire on the beach—it all blurred into the background. There was only Nia. Only this moment. Before he could second-guess himself, before he could talk himself out of it, Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against hers. It was a soft kiss at first—hesitant, almost tentative, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile tension that had built between them for so long. But the moment their lips met, something inside Rafe snapped. The kiss deepened, slow and languid, as if they had all the time in the world, but neither of them was willing to let go of the moment.

Nia’s hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Rafe responded in kind, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into him until there was no space left between them. The kiss was everything he hadn’t known he was craving—passionate, desperate, but with a tenderness that made his chest ache.

For a moment, it was like the entire world had disappeared. There was only the two of them, tangled together in a kiss that felt like it had been a long time coming. Rafe didn’t know what to do with the feelings swirling inside him. All he knew was that he wanted more. But when they finally broke apart, breathing heavily, the world came crashing back into focus. Nia was looking up at him, her eyes wide and breathless, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

Rafe’s heart was still racing, his mind still reeling. “What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, but with a trace of disbelief.

Nia bit her lip, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I think that was the moment we stopped pretending we weren’t feeling this.”

Rafe’s chest tightened. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed her to say that, to make it real. “And now what?”

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching his face. “Now? I don’t know, Rafe. But we can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter.”

He nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and fear flood through him. “You’re right.” His voice was rough, barely a whisper. He could feel the weight of the unspoken words, the ones they both knew they weren’t quite ready to say yet.

Nia’s eyes softened, and she took a step back, but only just. Her fingers lingered on his arm, like she wasn’t ready to let go either.

“We take it one step at a time,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving his. “No pressure. Just… us.”

Rafe exhaled, his heart still pounding in his chest, but somehow lighter. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

As they stood there, just a breath apart, the tension between them hadn’t faded. It had only shifted—into something new, something uncharted. Rafe knew that whatever happened next would change everything. But for now, this was enough. This was the start of something neither of them could walk away from, even if they tried.

The waves crashed against the shore, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

[atopvisenyashill]

WHERE HAVE ALL THE STARK WIVES GONE AND WHERE ARE ALL THE COZ'S

aka i made the stark family tree from torrhen, the king who knelt all the way to the starklings & filled in some gaps too just for funsies. behold my magnum opus because i am a visual learner. some notes on the tree:

at the start of the tree, you’ll notice some lines are purple. those are not technically canon relations - we know those people existed but we aren’t told how they’re related or who their wives were. similar to my dornish timeline, i filled in a few gaps here based on the information we have to go off, some leaps in logic when it comes to the politics of the time, and some math.

similarly, you’ll notice some names in {brackets}. those are characters that we know exist but we don’t know their name (ie, we know alaric had two sons, we don’t know their names). i picked their names from other stark names.

the kids aren’t always in age order. i couldn’t get the graphic to line up in places bc of the cousin marriages and still keep everyone in age order, so i just gave up aksjd.

all the ones with the book sigil were Lords of Winterfell. all the ones with the show sigil were just born into the stark house.

alright now we got some explaining & rambling below the cut

george give the wives names. george at least give them a house. george pls you don't have to give her a personality just give her a freaking name george.

anyways!!! first things first, let's go into the names and houses i invented for everyone, starting from Torrhen's wife on the left and moving to the right:

Lady Manderly, the last Queen in the North - i think given the Manderlys are the #2 house, it was thematically fitting that the last Queen in the North was a Manderly! I also think it would make sense, given how common Iron Islander raiding was in this time, that Torrhen would want to strengthen his alliance with the house that owns his fleet. We also know the North’s fleet was pretty damn impressive at this time - Aegon uses them to fight several times after Visenya destroys the Vale’s fleet during the conquest.

Lady Dustin, wife to Brandon the Boisterous - Torrhen’s sons hate the Iron Throne and they’re all really pissed at the Stark Maiden-Ronnel Arryn marriage, so I figured Torrhen’s sons would want very fierce, very Northern wives (no offense to the Manderlys). Given Barrowton is one of the only true cities in the North, I thought marrying a family familiar with travelers, maybe a richer house even, might be seen as a benefit to staying strong against the Iron Throne.

Lady Flint, wife to Brandon the Boastful - Similar to Lady Dustin, I thought a strong Northern match would be what the sons of Torrhen would continue to go for. The Flints of Widow's Watch are considered the most powerful of the Flint houses so I thought that made a good match.

Lady Norrey, wife to Edwyn Stark - this one was fun & required some math and analysis. Basically, we know none of Alaric’s sons are married when Alysanne comes to visit, and Alaric is succeeded by his grandson, because both of his sons die before him. It means his grandson could be at the oldest 14 when he inherits. We also have Gyldayn say that some “Stark brothers” looked into seeing if Alysanne giving the New Goft was legal. I thought if Alaric & his sons were so annoyed by this, wouldn’t it make sense to marry into a house near the New Gift, who perhaps will be impacted by the decision and have the knowledge of the area and its history? Since the Norreys are right on the border, I thought that would be a good fit. I also thought it would be a good fit because Cregan married Arra Norrey just a bit later - and one pattern I noticed is that when a family marries into the Stark line once, they tend to remarry each other within a few generations again. They do this with the Blackwoods, the Lockes, AND the Royces - it’s likely the mothers & grandmothers influencing the matches, and I thought it was a fun pattern to repeat.

Lady Reed, wife to Artos Stark - So one thing we know is that Lynara Stark, Cregan's third wife, is not descended from the uncle who attempted to usurp Cregan but from a younger son of Brandon the Boisterous. I also noticed Lynara's son, Brandon, has an affair with a Fenn. The Fenns are sworn to House Reed, so I thought it made sense that this branch of the Starks has perhaps lived in the Neck, and brought a small household with her that included a Fenn or two that her son later has an affair with.

Lady Glover, wife to Ellard Stark - this is another “marry & remarry” match up but there I chose the Glovers also because I noticed the Starks tend to marry into the same few houses over and over again. These are likely their richest vassals and closest allies, so I thought again it would make sense that Ellard would pick a woman from a wealthy or important background as the succession crisis under Jaehaerys starts to kick off (in preparation for a fight, even if it's just a war of words). Since you have Gilliane Glover just a bit down, and I thought that would match up nicely with the "marry and remarry" trend as well.

NOW SOME ANALYSIS

Obviously there's been a lot said about the Sansa-Jonnel and Serena-Edric marriages that I don't really need to repeat at length but - I think the choice to have a Sansa and a Jonnel One-Eye marry is kind of sus, I think the "One-Eye" thing is sus, I think the niece-uncle connection here is kind of sus, and I think the fact that their mother was a Manderly is also sus.

There's also the fact that Serena has several sons and we have no idea what happened to them. That one stands out to me because of the Cregan-Lynara match; as stated above, Lynara is not, as some people assume, the daughter or granddaughter of Arnolf, the uncle that attempted to overthrow Cregan. Her Stark name comes all the way from a younger brother of Brandon the Boisterous. That's quite a few generations back that a Stark line has survived to remarry into the main line and we don't even know if she was an only child or had brothers and sisters. So Brandon's brothers' weren't just mysteriously offed/died out, but just two generations after Lynara, all of Serena's descendants just mysteriously die off? Nah, there's a story here that's hiding. The obvious suspect here is The She-Wolves of Winterfell story with Dunk & Egg. COMMA BUT. It's crazy that there are no Stark cousins in the modern day, no cadet House the way we have the Arryns of Gulltown, the Green Apple Fossoways, the Lannisters of Lannisport, etc., and also equally weird that Lynara's Stark line isn't a named cadet branch.

But let's get into the cadet/cousin branches in the modern day as well - one thing I noticed about the lack of Stark cousins in recent history (ie first and second cousins rather than like, seventh and eighth) is that a lot of them are female line cousins. Catelyn and Robb point this out in the book when Catelyn brings up the Vale Starks in the Templetons, the Royces, and the Waynwoods. I think the fact that Sansa is in direct contact with a host of those same families will come into play; perhaps when she unmasks herself as Sansa, someone will comment on her resemblance to Jocelyn, or maybe that familial connection will prompt a bit more loyalty out of one of Jocelyn's descendants if she has to make a mad dash out of the Vale.

And this is the same with Lyarra; she had a sister, Branda, who married a Rogers, which is a very minor Stormlands house. That stuck out in my head because I think this all really sets up the North to be ruled by Sansa; there are no male cousins or even female line male cousins (shout out Targaryen cousin Robert Baratheon) to step in and say "Well wouldn't you prefer a man as the Stark in Winterfell?" It's just Bran, Rickon, and Jon Snow that could possibly threaten her rule. It seems like she's very set up to echo her predecessor here but instead of Jonnel marrying her to steal her claim, Jon is likely to back up her claim, same as Bran.

And since I'm talking about namesakes here, let's dig into Arya Flint. There's two big associations here for Arya - Brave Danny Flint and the Wandering Wolf, Rodrik Stark. I think it's interesting that he served with the Second Sons, given that Arya is a Second Daughter, rather than the Stormbreakers, which was started by Oscar Tully. The moniker itself, Wandering Wolf, also makes me a bit excited for Arya's future; I've said before but I want Arya to do everything she wants to do and being so closely associated with a "Wandering Wolf" makes me think she will. The Danny Flint connection is also interesting here - there's the fact that Jon Snow, the sibling she's closest to, joins the Night's Watch (and even makes reference to Danny Flint), the fact that Danny dressed as a man and fought with a sword. Similar to the "Wandering" epithet potentially spelling out a happy ending for Arya, I am hopeful she'll have a happier ending than Danny Flint. But I do wonder if perhaps Arya will have some involvement with the Night's Watch, however it exists in the endgame.

Lastly - I'm so curious about Harrold Rogers. Did he help facilitate the friendship between Ned and Robert? Are the Rogers' still kicking around looking Starkish as hell? George where are all the cousins!!

[orleans-jester]

“You’re welcome,” Maddy said with a small smile, watching Arthur go. Maybe she’d get in trouble for giving that tidbit of information later but she was in too much bliss to care at the moment. Hopefully Arthur would get his private moment - or as private as one can be around Delta and Frank. She was cheering him on.

And then Wulf gave her another amazing compliment. Who sad that the dead were fearsome? There was hardly anyone that she felt more safe with than with Wulf, save for her husband. “Thank you,” She said, looking to see Bastien and Frankie, and smiled fondly. “Did pretty well for myself, didn’t I?”

Maddy had no clue that she was being looked at, whether by someone’s eyes or through them, she was completely in the moment, not thinking about anything other than what she was looking at. Or rather, who she was looking at. Bastien seemed to be having quite a lucid night, even if a few of the things that he said were on the strange end. That was just Bastien. And he kept on lavishing her with the most wonderful words, making her heartbeat quicken.

She felt like the most loved person in the room.

She wanted to acknowledge each and every point because they were all so important to her. The times that he brought up, the things that he liked. Each one was valuable to the both of them, and helped to form their relationship so of course she wanted to talk about all of them - but there was only so much time in a day. Or in a night, rather. And this one, so far, in her pretty dress trying to emulate the night sky, she felt like she was in a fairytale and didn’t want to spend too much time on the past, not when they were making memories in the present.

And then there was a lot of smiling which was definitely odd for her husband. Even when he was overly happy, he wasn’t exactly the big-grin sort. No, she was used to the sheepish little smile that he had for only a couple of seconds before it would settle back into its natural shape. Her dark eyes flickered down to watch his mouth as it moved like that, curiosity starting to grow.

“Oh, thank you,” She said, nodding, smiling herself, though her face was turning more curious than overly-emotional at this point. She did good too - which was always good to note. Only she noticed that he wasn’t looking right at her anymore, but at something over her shoulder. She turned her head as if to look but Bastien managed to interrupt just in time with his suggestion, making her turn back towards him.

“Outside?” She asked, responding to the kiss with one in kind, sweet and gentle. A smile crossed her face again. “Sure, let’s go for a walk.”

Her eyes watched as he got his phone out, texting right there after asking such a question, and the realization finally sunk in. Bastien, her Bastien, was planning something. This made her feel even warmer since his plans were usually interesting, and romantic, and memorable. Like the dinner that he had set up in the old squathouse, where he had bought her a beautiful dress. Whatever this was, it was going to be special. She could feel it in her bones.

There was a text tone. From Elsa. Yes.

Coats was a good idea. It could still get chilly in Louisiana in the fall time, especially in the middle of the night, and around water. So there was not the least bit of opposition in that regard.

“Of course I remember,” She nodded. They had been working up to it for a while. Bastien not only being awake enough to be walking around in dayface, when he usually tried to sleep through it as much as he possibly could, but also the nerves that someone might just be walking by. Maddy had worn her swimsuit that day. And they had managed to put together some sort of trunks for the big guy. It had been a gorgeous day. “Now you can have every day in the sun.”

They really had progressed, and this was a nice reminder of that. They reached their home in the basement of the castle and Maddy started to bundle Frankie up first in a periwinkle puffer jacket, with little white flowers on it. Only then would she put on her own coat.

“Maybe even more special, because we get to see it everyday,” She said, putting her arms into the sleeves. “It’s not fleeting, or seasonal, or far away. It’s .. literally in our own backyard.”

Arthur did believe Maddy never quit caring. Everyone had a nature. That was hers.

"Yes, Yeah. Actually, I should know that."

Heck, she knew him well enough she could see through his faces. The longing must have been written all over it. He was glad for the tip though. His face brightened with it.

"Thanks Maddy. I'll try there first." Then he gave her a squeeze before heading off in the direction of the rooftop stairs. They noticed Figaro and waved before they kept going. He remembered sitting at their table at school before. He was worried about slowing down though. He felt like his clock was ticking even though he hadn't quite stopped and had a full conversation with them. He really wanted to find Frank and Delta.

Maddy spoke so plainly now to Wulf. Time sure did have a way of changing things and clearing the air. Clearing the fog. Yeah, that was it.

"The fog is clear for both of us now. Your family is beautiful." Wulf felt so demystified when it came to the mysteries that hid there in the back of his mind. Everything felt in good order.

Diablo would think about Fig's words. "Good point." Targets? On his face though? He was going to consider that. Fae Magic for the lean in? "Also good point." He added with a sly grin. He'd be off a moment later though.

Little John didn't miss an opportunity to join in silly dancing when he saw Figaro bouncing about either. He partook in that fun with a burly smile.

To the couple of the hour, Bastien and Maddy were having quite the full conversation while dancing. They didn't even know the Laveau couple were off in a seat watching from afar, including them in their admiration of the whole room. They were too busy admiring each other.

Bastien felt like he really messed things up when he couldn't use his words more than once in the history of their relationship and in that she couldn't see what he felt for her. He was trying so hard to make up for that now. Right now while dancing and full of drinks.

He must have done something real good because she not only said he did amazing, but he was watching her face after. He was concentrating so hard he surely hadn't expect any waterworks. It wasn't a bad thing. She was smiling too. Happy tears. He learned that was a thing. He hadn't expected her to go back and say stuff about each thing either. He just wanted her to know it all. Just in case she hadn't figured it out.

In case she didn't know.

Because yes, all that was there in his head and probably so much more.

A tiny part of that more was coming soon. He saw the frost building and he started to not be able to control his smiling. If anyone knew Bastien at all, drinks or weed or not, in a good mood or not, a certain amount of, or certain kinds of smiling would just feel off, and Maddy certainly knew her husband.

He started to realize he and Elsa should have thought of a signal. A text? Should he wait till she came back in?

Between seeing the frost and seeing his wife's emotional face he started to feel stuck in place. His feet stopped dancing. He reached up to those eyes. "I did good." He just needed to say it to reassure himself her crying was good tears.

"You did good." He said about everything she had said back just in case she needed to hear it too.

That window started to be a hyperfixation.

"Let's go for a walk on the beach."

Then he'd kiss her. Then he turned to kiss Frankie's little head too.

Then he'd wonder if he did all that in the wrong order. Should he have kissed Maddy first because of the doing good convo and then asked about the beach? Hugo would tell him to forget it because too late now. Fuck it.

"Beach?" He'd remind as if his mind was still on it through their whole kiss.

He'd be distracted and even start texting on his phone right after a big ol' conversation like that.

Bastien to Elsa: Can we come out yet?

He'd stall a little longer.

"Let's get coats. Frankie should wear a coat."

It was Halloween. It being technically autumn maybe getting coats wouldn't seem too off course.

As they'd walk to find coats he'd ask, "Do you remember the first time on the beach? It was in the day. My day in the sun?"

In the day memories were vital to Bastien. He connected that to Maddy. It became so much more than one. All he ever dreamed of was one.

"You got this." Laverne would encourage with no doubts. Bastien really was on a roll tonight.

He could feel his inside thoughts coming to the surface again. This was what today had been all about for him. It was finally about time and he was leading up to it.

"That's why I love that beach. Us living right here together. It's as special as Paris, pumpkin patches, or Disney World, or rooftops. My first dream come true. You remember when that was my only real dream? One day. Just one. You helped me get new dreams after that."

He was leading somewhere with all this. Of course only Elsa could know that right now and she wasn't in the conversation.

[simp-ly-writes]

"Need a Lift?"

─────── · ·

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!British!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: It is your first time traveling to the USA, once there you are like a fish outta water but thankfully you run into Spencer who is more than willing to help you!

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, meet-cute, fluff, cute, probably stereotypical british things.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,209

─ · · A/N: in anons we trust for cute asks like this! 🫶

─────── · ·

It was your first time traveling to the USA. You were a 'creator on the rise' youtube told you and next thing you knew you were being placed on a pre-paid flight to creator-con with a fancy badge dangling from your neck.

You were completely out of your element and went into an immediate culture shock at the vast space there was between cities and states to blocks and buildings. Just the grand scale of it all and even the events hall itself held you floored as you were quite embarrassed to admit your mouth was quite literally hanging open.

You thought back to your three-story row house, two lane roads, and easily accessible public transit, everything only being a hop, skip, and a jump away. So when you were not thinking to set your timer earlier than you usually got up, you were rushing around your hotel room to get ready and get your ass over to your meet-and-greet on time.

Choosing random clothes out of your suitcase while cursing the living heavens our of yourself and your door that failed multiple times to lock, you were stumbling into the elevator with your shoes half on and your sweater askew, non-the-obvious to the other inhabitant of the elevator.

"What floor are you headed two?" a male voice piped up as you whipped your head around, catching your appearance in the mirrored interior and giving yourself a wince. "Oh-ah, the street floor please?" your quickly answer, giving the man a quick once over and the politest smile your can muster before fixing your appearance and feeling around in your pockets for your badge.

"I think what you're looking for is in your back pocket," he comments, giving you a awkward smile back. "Cheers, thanks," you answer back, reaching around and pulling it over your head with a sigh of relief before realizing he is wearing a matching one.

"You going to this event too?" You ask, waving around your badge to his nod. "Yeah, I'm actually doing a panel in 15 minutes. I didn't think I would sleep in so much, it was not that far of a drive for me..." his sentence ends with stressed laughter that you join.

"So you're from around here?" you now take a longer look at the man before the elevator door opens and he lets you go out first before you both walk in tow to the front of the lobby and out to the car-loop.

"Yeah, I work about three hours away from here on a good day. By the accent, it sounds you're visiting outta town I assume?"

"Mhmm, first time in the United States actually and I never expected it to be this bloody hot in fall," you mutter once emerging out of the air conditioned space, throwing off all those layers you struggled to put on this morning.

The man laughs, his joyfulness reaching his eyes has your heart miss a beat as you take in the curls underneath his baseball cap, un noticing to the embroidered logo. "Yeah, the weather doesn't seem to change much around here, its either kinda hot or hella hot. Since we are heading the same way, would you 'need a lift?'" he teases your accent as you consider your answer.

"I would say that was one of the better interpretations, good on you. I don't think I would usually say this to someone I just met but sure, that would be lovely actually since I have no idea where I am going," it is now your time to anxiously laugh to receive a comforting smile.

"The passengers side should be unlocked, hop in," you get open the door and buckle yourself in. "I forgot to ask your name," you state, watching as he fixes a pair of sunglasses to his face before putting an arm around the back of your chair to back out of the parking lot.

You take notice of the tattoos stretching up his forearm and try and peer at the ones hidden near his shoulder with utmost intrigue. "Spencer Angew, yours?"

"(first/name) (last/name), pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well, so what events are you heading for?"

"Oh, I'm casted in an event also in... ten minutes now," you look down to check your phone and catching an onslaught of notifications coming from your social platforms. Not wanting to feel rude to the conversation, you cast away your work into your discarded jacket on your lap.

"Is it the old meets new panel?" Spencer asks, shifting gears as you pull out onto the highway. "Yeah," you confirm.

"I'm doing the same one, funny odds of that happening, huh?"

"Very much so but from our conversation so far, I'm happy to be doing it with you," you add, not looking to see his reaction and instead watch the vast sea of cars and signs around you.

"I'll have to say the same, I was quite nervous for this one since I would be the only member from the cast to be on it-"

Your head whips back over, your eyebrows raised in confusion. "Wait, you're on a cast? I thought this was a creators event?" You quickly open up your email to read over the documents you signed a few days ago in panic. You were not a professional actor, director, nor comedian. What the hell were they going to expect you to do on that stage?

"It is, the company I work for does skit comedy and we have a cast that preforms skits in between their outside work," Spencer explains, taking a look at the mirrors before looking at you. Now catching the logo atop his head, your eyes widen.

"Oh my god, thats so cool! Wait... do you work for Smosh? I used to love watching those dudes when I was a kid, didn't understand much of what they were referencing but they're still going at it?" you gush, arms now leaning over the console in excitement as Spencer tenses before relaxing.

"Yeah, I work for them..." Spencer trails off, listening to the GPS system to take the next right. Your brain short-circuits, forgetting that the roads where different. "That must be weird working with like the fathers of youtube?" you ask.

"It was at first but by the third year, it wears off and you just realize they are two dudes making videos, or well now running a business to make videos." And the next thing you knew you're both entering through the guest side-entrance and are being ushered on stage.

It is a roaring of claps and cheers as your eyes blink and your body freezes. Spencer places a hand on your upper back, giving you a look of concern. "You alright?" he has to shout in your ear as staff rush to fit your microphones and sound packs. "With a handsome lad like you sitting beside me, I have nothing to worry about," you tease to instil false confidence within yourself.

Spencer laughs, shaking his head at you, his cheeks warming as you cast him a wink, that series of events would be clipping to every social platform in the next hour and a new shipped was formed that morning.

─────── · ·

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp @sarahskywalker-amidala @laurasdrey

[daizedndconfused]

mornings are the worst

characters - cole x reader

type - fluff

warnings - none

synopsis - how you and cole usually spend your mornings waking up together

a/n - hiyaa this is actually my first time writing second person and i had fun it was lowkey a tad challenging. anyway enjoy!!

Mornings have never really been your thing.

Waking up at the crack of dawn almost every morning never got any easier. Especially not when you’re sleeping next to a human heater in a freezing cold room. He just made it that much harder to get up and out of bed. Which, resulted in you having to wake up even earlier so that you have more time to actually wake up and get ready for the day.

However, today was unlike that.

The sunshine was peeking through his blinds and bathing your face softly in its warmth. Again, it did not help the act of waking up.

You stirred a little, stretching your arms out above you, and when you went to put them down your left hand collided with warm flesh. You sighed contently at the revelation that you were able to sleep in today. Though when you looked at the clock you realized ‘sleeping in’ was only eight thirty.

Still, that’s a little over three hours of extra sleep, which you were eternally grateful for.

Rolling over onto your side you wrapped both your hands around the sleeping boy next to you. He softly exhaled, returning the gesture by wrapping both arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

You loved mornings like this, they made you feel safe, content even. The ones where the sun was up before you, waking up in a tangle of limbs and sheets, with no early morning training, and really nothing to do until the later evening was refreshing.

You drew patterns and shapes on Cole’s back, softly prompting him to wake up. As much as you wanted him to be able to sleep in, you wanted to enjoy the early hours before afternoon patrol. Alas, your plan was working.

Cole shifted a little and groggily lifted one of his hands to rub the sleep from his eyes. You felt his exhale on the top of your head as his thumb drew circles on your arm.

“Morning,” he said, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Good morning,” you responded, peeking up at him.

“W’time is it?” He asked.

“Round eight thirty,” you answered. “You know that’s still kind of early, but Zanes is probably making breakfast right now.”

Cole hummed, “I could go for breakfast.”

“Me too,” you yawned. “Come on then, up and at em.”

Cole made a noise of protest when you detangled yourself from both him and the comforter.

Immediately your skin erupted in goosebumps from the lack of warmth that Cole provided. You visibly shivered, and he must’ve noticed because he wrapped his arms around your stomach pressing your back to his chest.

“You’re making getting up so much harder.” You accused, though against your better judgment you sank back against him.

“Just trying to be nice,” he laughed, pressing a soft kiss to the base of your neck.

“Yeah well you can be nice when we get out there,” you removed his hands despite his protests.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feet making contact with the cold hardwood flooring.

You raised your arms above your head, stretching your back in the process. Padding your way to Cole’s bathroom, you saw you already had some of your stuff in there. You picked up the toothbrush you kept in his room for days like this and brushed your teeth. Once you finished you looked up and saw Cole leaning against the doorframe through the mirror.

You gave him a playful glare. “Were you just watching me brush my teeth?” You asked him. “Because if you were, I ask that you erase it from your memory.”

“You’re always beautiful to me,” he said, wrapping you in a hug from behind. “Even if you’re spitting out toothpaste-”

“Alright,” you shoved him off as he started laughing. “You just had to ruin the moment. Brush your teeth, put some pants on, and let's go.”

“Fine,” he groaned. “Don’t leave without me though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you laughed pecking his cheek.

Then, you wandered back into his cozy bedroom. Most of the time you ended up in his room anyway. Usually you only went to your room for a change of clothes, and even right now you were only half the clothes you wore were yours. You were dressed in one of Cole’s AC/DC shirts and your own purple plaid pajama shorts.

As you heard the water running in the bathroom, you took the liberty of picking out what pants he was going to wear. You surfed through his drawer and saw your matching pjs–his black plaid pants.

“Here, these are for you.” You threw his pants at him as he exited the bathroom. “We’ll be matching.”

He shook his head laughing. “Alright, thanks.” He stepped into the clothing and slid them up over his boxers leaving just his chest bare. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You grabbed his hand and led him out of his room and into the dining room.

Upon entering, you saw that the rest of the team was already there. Although Zane was nowhere to be seen, he was probably cooking.

“Morning everyone,” you greeted, taking a seat.

“Morning you two,” Lloyd responded, reading a comic book.

The others sent their good morning greetings as well.

Everyone was in the dining room, including the Sensei’s and Misako. Wu was reading the paper, and Garmadon and his wife hunched over old scrolls.

Kai scrolled on his phone, probably texting Skylor. No one really knew what was going on with them, you just hoped she’d agree to go out with him. He needed her in his life, someone to challenge his hotheadedness.

Nya and Jay were both working on a new robot. Now they were set in stone, both engineers and insanely smart, they were made for eachother. Nya worked on the actual design and exoskeleton while Jay worked on what looked like a motherboard, or some sort of tech thing he was good at.

The whole thing just screamed domestic household, when in reality that was far from the case.

Sure, you all loved and respected each other, but the monastery was not without chaos. Chaos you all knew too well. Either someone stole something, or ate the last of the cereal and put the empty box back in the pantry, or some ridiculous thing like that.

Shockingly, it was already almost nine and there were no incidents. However, you had a sneaking suspicion that something was bound to happen.

From on the table, Lloyds phone rang. Unlike usual, he quickly dropped his comic and replaced it with his phone. He read whatever was on the screen and smiled like a schoolgirl receiving a love letter.

You cast a suspicious glance at the boy who was pretty much everyone’s younger brother, then up at Cole to see if he thought anything of Lloyds behavior.

Obviously, checking your phone is usually a normal thing, but Lloyd never put down a comic for his phone. The only thing he ever used his phone for was texting and occasionally going on social media, and even then he rarely did that.

Cole didn't seem to think anything of the young Green Ninja’s new found involvement in his phone. He simply gazed down at where our fingers were interlocked and gently fiddled with our fingers.

“Sleep well?” Wu asked, not looking up from the paper. “I know Cole could sleep forever if given the chance, I’m glad he has you to pull him out of his slumber.”

Cole looked up from our fingers bashfully. “Not true Sensei,” he said.

Sensei Wu simply hummed, not very convinced. He turned the page of the paper, picked up his tea and took a sip.

“Actually,” Jay piped up, “it’s very true. You know before you guys started dating, on our days off he’d sleep until at least noon. Even then he didn’t even come out of his room till around one or two. He’s like a hibernating bear.”

You hid a giggle behind your free hand. Cole glared at you before his gaze moved onto his best friend. “Yes, thank you for that very vivid picture you’ve painted for us.”

“Happy to be of service,” the master of lightning winked, tweaking something on his circuit board.

Cole opened his mouth to retort when someone else entered the dining room– Zane.

“Would you guys help me carry the food inside?” He asked.

Instantly, everyone was on their feet, save for the elders. Everyone was starving, and the faster you got the food on the table the faster you could eat it.

Just as quickly, the banter and harmless insults started. You lost Cole’s hand in the process falling in line behind the boys next to Nya.

The two of you watched as they shoved, and poked innocent fun at each other. They were the most wholesome definition of ‘boys will be boys’. You gave Nya an adoring smile, which she returned.

Everybody each took a serving of food to bring back to the dining room. Thankfully, since there were seven of you, everyone was able to bring everything back in only one trip.

You were still shocked that there was this much food. Though, when you live in a house with five teenage boys who need to consume like 5,000 calories a day, the portions of meals got larger.

Once everything was set down, and everyone in their seats, Zane uncovered the foil keeping the plates warm.

Instantly, a bunch of delicious smells hit you at once: bacon, ham, pancakes, and potatoes in multiple forms. Your mouth instantly watered, as did everyone else's. Everybody took turns grabbing at food, and thanking Zane for keeping you all fed.

You started eating immediately after until you couldn't see the bottom of the plate anymore. Soon, the table fell into easy conversation, and the sound of utensils scraping against plates followed.

You heard the ping of Lloyd’s phone again. Looking up from your food and saw his eyes glued to his phone, comic book discarded off to the side. You listened carefully, his heart rate had subtly increased, and the blood pressure in his face began to rise.

You wondered what, or maybe who was making him smile like that. Not that you’re complaining–Lloyd deserved to be happy, and you hoped whoever he was texting kept making him smile.

Before you could dwell more on it, you felt a soft hand drawing featherlight circles on your thigh. Looking over you saw that the hand belonged to Cole.

“Very clingy this morning,” you stated.

“That a bad thing?” He asked, though you both know the answer to that.

“Of course not,” you smiled, pecking his cheek.

A disgusted snort came from across the table.

“You two are so sappy, it’s like watching an old married couple interact.” Kai said through a mouthful of bacon.

Like he would know what it’s like to be in a committed relationship. He had fawned over Skylor when you’d first met her at the tournament of elements. And yet after all that flirting he still hasn’t asked her out. He claims to be the most charming and charismatic, but he never really owns up to that title.

“Don’t worry,” you said through bites of food, “I’m sure once you finally man up and ask out Sky you’ll be doing the same thing.”

He threw a small piece of bacon at you, and the table burst into soft laughter. Yeah, some mornings were the worst, but ones like these weren’t so bad.

[peppymintdreams]

Memories We Can’t Recall

Elias x Barista

Stockton was never exactly a place that screamed "perfect childhood." But for Elias and Barista, the dusty streets, the sound of distant sirens, and the occasional rumble of a motorcycle gang became the backdrop of their shared memories. They met at the age of eight, in a park by the river that nobody really took care of, with its rusted swings and cracked basketball courts.

Elias had been there first, of course—his father owned half the block, or so the rumors went. He was scrawny back then, with messy hair and a bandaged knee from trying to jump off a tree branch the day before.

When Barista, shy and curious, wandered into the park holding a tattered book,

Elias noticed immediately. "Hey!" Elias had called out from his perch on the swings. "What are you doing with that thing?" Barista had looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Reading… What else would I do with it?" "Who reads at a park?" Elias had wrinkled his nose, jumping off the swing and walking over, swinging the lollipop across his mouth. That was a special detail barista could remember about him; Elias always had candy in his mouth or at least on his person.

"You’re supposed to, like, play tag. Or try to climb the trees until you fall. It's more fun." Barista had raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you fell already." They pointed to the bandage on his knee. Elias laughed, loud and bright, as if the whole world was a joke only he understood. "Yeah, well… I’ll try again tomorrow."

It all started at the park, the one by the river, where the swings squeaked, and the basketball courts had more cracks than nets.

Elias was always there first. Sometimes he’d be sitting on the swings, staring off into space, or he'd be messing around with a stick like he was on some secret mission. Barista had wandered in one day, book in hand, just wanting some peace. They weren’t expecting to make a friend—especially not one like Elias.

“Reading again?” Elias had asked, hopping off the swing like he did when they first met, and began to peer over Barista’s shoulder.

“What else would I be doing?” Barista retorted, rolling their eyes.

It became routine—meeting at the park after school, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Elias always had some kind of scrape or bruise, but when Barista asked about it, he’d shrug it off with a laugh. “Just fell off my bike,” he’d say, or, “Tried to climb that stupid tree again.” Barista never really bought his excuses, but Elias had that grin, the kind that said he wasn’t going to explain any further.

They didn’t press him. They were kids, and at the time, being friends with Elias was enough. The world was big, but their park was their own little corner of it. That was how it stayed for a few years.

But as middle school turned into high school, things started to change. Barista found themselves swamped with homework, projects, and the weight of their parents’ expectations. They couldn’t hang out as much, and Elias, while still the same reckless, wild kid, on what one could say was crack, maybe steroids, he was a crazy child who always seemed… different. His injuries became more frequent, more serious, and he started showing up less and less. Barista still saw him around sometimes, but something was always off. His smile didn’t reach his eyes like it used to, and he always seemed to be in a rush, glancing over his shoulder like someone might be watching.

Then the Fresno incident happened.

Barista didn’t understand it at first. They didn’t know the details, only that there had been a blackout, chaos in the streets, and people had died. The news was vague, but there was an undeniable tension that spread throughout Stockton. Barista didn’t hear from Elias after that—not at the park, not anywhere.

He disappeared, just like that. No explanation, no goodbye.

For a while, Barista would still go to the park, just in case. But eventually, they stopped. Elias faded into the background of their mind, becoming one of those childhood memories that you remember in flashes—the boy with the messy hair and bandaged knees, who laughed too loudly and never explained his bruises.

Years passed, and Barista forgot. Not completely, but enough that Elias became little more than a vague, distant figure in their past.

Life moved on. Barista had gone between several jobs, never staying in one, usually because it never felt right until one thing led to another, something really traumatic that caused the barista to switch tactics and they got a job at Brewhouse Café, trying to balance work and their growing responsibilities. It was routine—making coffee, chatting with regulars, living the kind of normal life they’d once talked about back in the park.

Then one day, he walked in.

At first, Barista didn’t recognize him. He looked familiar, but they couldn’t place why. He wasn’t the scrappy kid they used to know; he was taller, broader, and had a quiet confidence about him. He started coming in regularly, ordering the same thing every time. Barista would make his coffee, exchanging pleasantries, but there was always this nagging feeling at the back of their mind.

Do I know him from somewhere? They thought maybe it was just their imagination—maybe he reminded them of someone from a dream, or some random face they’d seen before. It was strange how comfortable he seemed, how familiar, but Barista couldn’t pinpoint why.

The memories of their friendship, of all those afternoons spent at the park, had blurred with time. Faces and moments had faded, until Elias was just a faint recollection, like a photograph left out in the sun for too long.

One day, as Barista handed him his coffee, they paused. “Have we met before?” They questioned themself

Elias froze for a split second, when he saw them for the first time his smile faltered before quickly recovering. “Maybe,” he said, “could it be them?” shrugging casually. “Stockton’s a small place.”

But the feeling didn’t go away. They watched him walk out of the café, the door chiming behind him, and a flood of forgotten memories stirred faintly in the back of their mind.

Maybe they had known each other once. Maybe it was just their imagination. Either way, the boy from the park was long gone—replaced by a man with secrets Barista couldn’t begin to understand. They didn’t dwell on it, not too much.

Life had moved on. And so had they.

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

The Dream of Being in DBD as a Trans Character: Updated

i've posted the original version of this here, but im posting this revised one here bcuz i live in a country that hates me apparently and im going to plaster my story everywhere bcuz its important. people like me are important and we deserve to be seen, along with our stories.

The plot begins with a client walking in. A ghost boy, no older than eighteen, comes in and asks for their assistance. His friend, who we’ll call Roy, had moved to the UK before the ghost, we’ll call Gilbert, passed away. The two were extremely close and Gil was Roy’s only real friend. Gil’s request is that the agency finds Roy and helps him deliver a last message to his friend. It takes some discussion, but the agency agrees.

We see a teen walking through a high school, head down, headphones on and clearly on the outside (think Edwin’s scene of walking against all the other students). Some jock in a varsity jacket slaps the books out of his hands. One particular book gets kicked down the hallway or something, and the whole hallway watches him go after it. His locker has all sorts of insults scribbled onto it, multiple of which are feminine in nature. Roy just sighs as he exchanges some of his supplies.

We watch him go through classes, just glimpses of classmates glaring, throwing papers at him, etc. He doesn’t respond to it beyond a few resigned expressions and sighs. A bell rings and the hallways are flooded by people going to lunch. Enter Crystal Palace, flanked by Edwin and Charles. She asks if he has a moment to talk and he says something like, “Look, I’m just trying to go eat without getting fucked up. So if you and your ghost boyfriends could just leave me alone, that’d be great.” He walks off, leaving Crystal and the boys extremely confused.

They didn’t think he would be able to see them. Gil had said he’d never said anything about seeing ghosts.

Crystal and the boys talk to the other students about Roy, posing as new/exchange students who’d noticed something about him. None of the students are particularly nice, saying he’s weird and abnormal. They also add in statements saying things like he’s “a girl playing pretend” and other statements in that vein. It confuses the boys, especially Edwin, but it seems to click for Crystal.

She finds Roy after school, hiding in the art/band room while the hoard of students goes outside to leave. His headphones are still on and he’s on his phone, but his head whips up the second the psychic enters so he’s clearly on high alert. Crystal sits across from him and asks why he could see ghosts.

Roy explains that when he came out, his parents stopped caring. They didn’t accept him, help him transition and refused to call him by his name. When he was seventeen, his appendix burst. He’d complained for multiple days that something was very wrong with his stomach and his parents ignored it. It burst at school and he nearly died from their negligence. 

He saw his first ghost at the school, as soon as he’d returned. It was a girl who had died the previous year in an accident, still attending classes with the rest of her classmates. He even spoke to the ghost a few times, but he never brought it up to Gilbert or anyone else. His classmates already bullied him and he wasn’t eager to give them more ammunition. Even so, he’d occasionally sneak into a bathroom to talk to the rather lonely ghost girl. He knew loneliness all too well and didn’t wish it on anyone.

After the whole ordeal, his uncle asked for custody and they gave it over without protest. Once he had it, his uncle, who we’ll call Josh, immediately worked on helping him transition. Josh got him to doctors who gave him HRT and helped him legally change his name. When Josh was told he would move to England for his high paying job barely six months later, he got Roy top surgery scheduled before they left. He enrolled in his current school, which had just as much bullying as his last. 

Crystal tells him that his friend, Gilbert, had contacted them to find him and help deliver a message. Roy’s shocked and asked if he could see Gil. The three agree, saying they could arrange something for that night. They make conversation until Roy deems it safe enough for him to leave. He gives them an awkward wave on the way out.

The two friends reunite that night. It’s tearful and emotional. We learn, through conversation or flashbacks, that Gilbert had died shortly after Roy moved away in a car accident. Roy had flown out to be at his best friend’s funeral and had been inconsolable. Gil’s family had let him sit with them, basically his own family. The boys hold each other like they might fade away, resting their foreheads together.

They talk. Gil reassures him that he was okay, that he was glad Roy was still going. He’s sad that Roy hasn’t made any new friends and the boy says he’s scared of letting in the wrong people. He says that maybe he can start with the detectives and Roy agrees that maybe he can. They talk a little more, the two stating that they love each other and similar statements, and Gil’s ready to move on. The blue light appears and he smiles sadly, giving his friend one last hug. He tells Roy to look after himself, asks the agency to look after him, too. Roy is holding in a sob but tells Gilbert to go on and that he’ll see him later, yeah? Gilbert nods and goes with Death, the light disappearing. As it does, we see the ghost boys holding hands, cast in blue light, reminded of their own deep friendship and unable to imagine parting.

Roy swipes at his tears as the agency approaches. They all offer their condolences, even a hug maybe, and he accepts. He asks if what they do is helping people move on and they say that it is. He nods and says that he’d like to help them sometimes, to which they all agree. The four of them hang out for a while, letting Roy tell the stories of Gilbert he’d been aching to tell.

When Roy goes home, his uncle is still up. The teen had said he would be out with potential new friends. Josh asks if the hangout went well and immediately worries when he sees his nephew’s tears. Roy is quick to tell him it was great, better than he could have imagined. He tells his uncle that he told them about Gilbert and even got to share his memories of him. Josh gets tearful as well when Roy says that he thinks he might actually have a group of friends he could be really close to. The two hug before the camera pans back to the agency. Perhaps the boys are deep in thought, perhaps they’re talking about the case and how it made them feel. But it’s clear that whether said aloud or not, the case had hit very close to home. And it leaves them with things to think about.

I like to think Roy would make a few other appearances, in a similar way to Monty. Edwin would ask him questions about his identity and queer stuff, notebook in hand. Charles and him would mess around, playing jokes on the others. He and Crystal would commiserate over neglectful parents, helping her as she tries to rebuild her life. When Niko comes back, they’d share shows and books they each like. 

Maybe the bullying gets bad and one of the ghost boys goes with him to school, casually tripping the bullies or being silly around them while the bully is oblivious. Roy slowly makes a friend or two at school, and overall comes out of his shell bit by bit. And he can almost see Gilbert smiling from beyond.

again, im posting this bcuz despite the last election, our stories matter and so do we. queer stories matter. trans stories matter. and if you don't like it, suck it up. cuz we arent going anywhere.

[atlas7seo]

Mild tdp season 6 spoilers

Random thought. So like Damian, Callum's dad had like a breathing sickness. And we also learn that Soren had a breathing sickness when he was born. Same sickness? Two characters with the same thing? It's probably not that deep but like ??? Dragon prince writers??? Whatcha doing?

Is there something more going on?

[triglycercule]

killer being like "yeah i know every single little thing about horror and dust" (because he watches them as a part time hobby (freak) (find something better to do)) and then he acts surprised when they do something that he wouldnt expect them to do in his little predetermined absolutely perfect concept of them

like what do you MEAN horror licks spoons clean when he's using them so he doesn't have to get a completely different one for the main course and the dessert. what do you MEAN dust has a lisp even though he speaks fluently and uses even more complex words than killer himself. horror knows how to sew and he often patches up their things without either of them noticing?? dust always wears oversized and clothes that cover him up just because he finds it comfy?? what??? out ra geous???? these guys have small little quirks to them that killer doesn't already know about???? killer immediately wants to know more. so he can expand his internal profile of them of course. not for any other more endearing and sweet reason. not at all,,,,,,,, (:3)