#imperfect storm

[raining-anonymously]

this is six months old and i never posted it, whoops. for the heinz and perry au.

and here we have our line-up! from left to right, we have neighbor kenny replacing baljeet, big black boots boris the bully replacing buford, roger replacing candace, grulinda replacing isabella, heinz replacing phineas, and (human) perry replacing ferb. it works i promise (i have thought about this way too much).

i feel like my art’s changed a bit since this… oh well! i still like it.

[masterdizzi]

lmao dude's jealous and gay

[danwhobrowses]

Now that Critical Role's VOD of episode 120 is out and everyone in the fandom's had a moment to breathe, simmer, and adjust to this all. I wanna do a big talk about my favourite idiot punk rock, Ashton Greymoore.

Because over these last few episodes, I've been so proud of them.

Many people have had vocal opinions on Ashton, not all of them positive either; I've seen many berate them and say they're selfish, not a team player, or that they 'don't add anything to the group'. But over the past few episodes, I feel like Ashton has been an unsung hero in the battles with Ludinus and Predathos, with their contributions, oftentimes selfless and cooperative, ending up providing the floor for others to deliver strong and impactful actions.

While Dorian and Imogen will rightfully get the lion's share of praise for their clutch moments - Dorian's Force Cage on Ludinus saving Liliana and defeating Predathos' first stage alongside Imogen's Power Word: Stun setting up Ludinus' death and defeating Predathos' second stage - Ashton's actions were often the prelude to moments that could not have succeeded without them, including these clutch moments. Their attack on Ludinus in 117 prompted the Silvery Barbs that burned up his reaction - which allowed Dorian to successfully use Force Cage without being Counterspelled, their high-damage attack on his neck hole in 118 broke Ludinus' concentration on Ravenous Void - which somehow later got credited to Chetney - which gave Imogen the freedom and mobility to get in range for Power Word: Stun, they got the Insight check whisper on Predathogen in 119 to know that Imogen was physically inside of the body and needed to be pried out - which Imogen achieved herself thanks in part to Fearne reaching her, and recently in 120 they pulled Imogen out of Predathos' maw, abandoning the Hammer synonymous with their character (to the point that Keyleth titled them the 'Paradox Hammer') to prioritize saving their friend, which - following Dorian's healing - gave her the chance to use the Ring of Remembrance for the finishing Meteor Swarm. Not to mention all the other damage they dealt and tanked throughout the four fights, the passive d4 bonuses and advantage they gave the party (almost acting partly as a secondary paladin or a tertiary bard) to buff their damage and saving throws, and accepting the risk of disintegration when Laudna used their Hammer's spell splitter - which forced Predathos to use its final Legendary Resistance.

The Disintegrate moment itself was tense because we all know that Ashton is high among the Hells who would sacrifice themselves to save the group - a mentality most of the Hells likely shared in this fight - but fortunately they don't have to, they'll never have to, and they gained something just as if not more valuable than a heroic sacrifice: they get to live. The person who before meeting these chucklefucks believed they'd likely die face-down in a ditch in some backwater alley and thrown into an unmarked grave AT BEST gets to live, and the people that mean most to them get to live thanks to their efforts, their successes. And that's the most important part; for all the times they couldn't help or save someone because they were unconscious or out of reach, for all the times they let their imposter syndrome tell them they're just a fuckup undeserving of trust, praise, or love, and for every fear they had that one day they'd mess up and this new family of theirs will abandon them like the Nobodies did, this time they were there standing beside their people to the very end - and they helped get them out alive. No mistakes, no carelessness, and no-one left behind.

For that, I am proud of Ashton Greymoore; not Bells Hells' Weapon but their Helm, not a Blunt Instrument but a Protector, and not a Hero who needs to do 'what needs to be done' but a Friend who is saving their people no matter the odds. Under all the hardened and rugged exterior that has always been who Ashton is - the perfectly flawed character they are.

[immaculatelyamiss]

Storm over Great Salt Lake

Antelope Island State Park

[themushroomprince03]

I finally made a little mini X-Men group ref

(In their civilian, non-hero uniforms. Except Mystique she just always wears that. Also i do not yet have a gambit design i am a og xmen films kid i do not have enough hcs abt him yet. Except DND bard I just know Gambit is a DND bard)

[shallowseeker]

Happy "It's-- amazing. You did-- amazing," Monday!

"It's-- amazing. You did-- amazing."

///

Do you even realize how amazing you are to me?

///

15x09 The Trap (Text Attributions// Supernatural scripts here via @spnscripthunt. Transcripts are located here via SPNWiki. Visit their Tumblr to donate.)

[shorthaltsjester]

free my complex female character, she did the same thing as complex male characters but the fandom takes Any analysis of her actions/choices/motivations that doesn’t strip her of all of her agency in bad faith and claims that only misogynists would dare to critique the things that they’ve noticed in her character because she’s a woman, completely ignoring the over-presence of discourse about similarly traited male characters in their fandom.

[scissorcraft]

post-loop siffrin suffers from chronic migraines and chronic pain and chronic nightmares and so much flared up mental illness and he has moments where he lashes out or gets incredibly scared or overwhelmed and he feels horrible for it because everything is supposed to be good and healthy and happy now because he won! he won! he’s free and he has his family now but he’s so scarred and it’ll never truly heal and they’ll never truly be how they used to be and they’ve changed for the worse

but their family is still there for him, and they still love him, and help him where they can, and it’ll never be the perfect ending but it’s His perfect ending and even through his newly developed disabilities and his newly aggitated mental illness he still finds happiness because they love him and he loves them and everything can be okay even if it’s not perfect

[aleisters]

you ever wonder if maybe that's on purpose? perhaps maybe they're trying to discourage people from driving, given that in storm conditions people die because a tree falls on their car or because they tried to drive through flood waters?

i don't know man. "i've never died yet in a red weather warning scenario" is a pretty piss poor reason to claim the weather's not dangerous.

[arabella-strange]

there's also this interesting comparison to World Beyond Number recently, where the very aggressive and very defensive wizard Suvi (played by Aabria Iyengar) gets very cold and guarded whenever her long-dead parents are brought up. And Aabria herself said after one ep that this is largely because for Suvi, people invoke the names and lives of her parents -- beloved people who she lost traumatically as a small child, and so did not know -- to corral her, to steer her, to influence her.

Orym recently had a vision from a God who told him a few things:

Fight Predathos -- here's a Vestige 2.0 sword, blessed by me, to fight with.

Predathos is a horror the likes of which will haunt your soul -- here [because you failed your save] is a vision of that howling void, that all-consuming maw of oblivion, just in case you start to forget what's at stake.

My realm is balance, not peace nor passivity, so if you are about balance, we're aligned for now -- Bonus: here's a brief visit from your beloved dead husband, who because of his love of nature and the world and balance ended up in my eternal care. [Cf. Suvi.]

Now, the ep previous, Dorian had pointed out the terror of being without a stable, sufficient moral compass when the stakes are this high. He underscored how scary and desolate and immobilizing it is to not know what will have been the right answer until after it's done.

For me, the meeting with the Arch Heart was -- as Liam said! -- such a gut-punch that fucks Orym over and sets him back so many steps is because of how these threads converge. Suvi, Wildmother, Dorian.

To wit: Orym had one brief glittering moment of feeling empowered to make a right choice, a choice based on a renewed intuitive sense of what "right" means so that the fewest people are hurt and the fewest decisions have to be in their hands (balance). And ~ten seconds~ later, he has to reframe that whole interaction as yet another way that Will's death is a source of ongoing pain and loss. Loss this time not just of Will himself and the love and the life they shared, but loss now also of that same certainty of how to know, deep down, what right even means anymore. On the one side, the howling void of Predathos; on the other, the desolation of separation from love, from certainty, from inner self.

So when Orym said, hollowly, "I don't have a God," I don't think he was lying or rolling back disingenuously. I think he was underscoring why this continues to be so brutally, cruelly painful for him. Because he came into this as an Ashari fighter with a lil touch of druid, not a paladin or a cleric. He didn't start with a God, he didn't become devoted or have a change of heart -- he was looking for the God that spoke to his heart and matched his goals. A God he could -- however briefly! -- trust. And now it seems like that's all gone, all over again.

ORYM IS NOT PRO-GOD.

ORYM IS NOT FIGHTING FOR THE GODS, HE'S FIGHTING FOR THE PEOPLE.

ORYM IS FIGHTING SO THAT THERE CAN A TOMORROW.

ORYM DOES NOT WANT TO FOLLOW THE WILDMOTHER, HE WANTS TO WORK ALONGSIDE HER.

ORYM IS NOT ON A REVENGE QUEST.

ORYM IS FIGHTING TO HONOUR WILL AND DERRIG BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT THEY WOULD BE FIGHTING ALONGSIDE HIM IF THEY WERE ALIVE.

ORYM IS TRYING TO BE A SHIELD FOR EXANDRIA

[senascoop]

☁︎ . , INTIMATE HORIZONS , Y.JW ! 18+

PAIRING. virgin ! jungwon × virgin ! afab reader. . SYNOPSIS. jungwon and you have been dating for years. despite your deep connection, the topic of sex has always been awkwardly avoided. both virgins and nervous about messing things up. but one night, you decide it’s time to take that step together. . GENRE. smut, virgins and clumsy-imperfect sex (sort of?), established relationship. . WARNING(S). virgins, clumsy and imperfect sex, kisses, boob play, nipple play, clit rubbing, first time, nsfw, mdni, mentions of premature release, protected sex, a little dirty talk (?), etc, lmk if i missed anything. . WORD COUNT. 2k.

The storm outside was a symphony of chaos, the heavy rain drumming a frenzied rhythm against the windowpanes, each droplet a tiny drumstick pounding out a primal beat that seemed to echo the fervent tempo of your heart.

You sat across from Jungwon, your breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps that mirrored the tumultuous weather outside. Your heart raced beneath the thin fabric of your blouse, and your chest rose and fell as your eyes drank in every inch of him.

Jungwon's hands, large and gentle, were clenched on his thighs, his knuckles turned white from the force of his grip. His eyes, dark pools of emotion, darted from your face to the curves of your body, and back again, a silent conversation passing between you.

Your fingers toyed with the fabric of your top, the pads of your fingertips tracing the delicate fabric, as if seeking the courage to reach out and touch him. You watched Jungwon's lips, full and soft, as he spoke, memorizing every word that passed between you.

"May I...?" Jungwon's voice was barely a whisper, his words laced with hesitation. His eyes met yours, a silent question hanging in the air between you. He reached out, his hand slow and deliberate, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. His touch was warm, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, his thumb gently brushing against your pulse. He guided your hand to his chest, his own heartbeat a rapid drum against your palm. "I'm nervous," he confessed, his voice low.

You could feel the taut muscles beneath his shirt, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. His eyes were locked onto yours, his expression a mix of vulnerability and desire. You slid your hand upwards, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone before wrapping around the back of his neck.

He leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed as he neared your lips. "I've wanted to do this for so long," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. Your lips met, a soft, hesitant kiss that quickly turned into something more.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel his heart pounding in a steady rhythm against yours, his grip tightening as he traced your bottom lip with his tongue. His touch was electric, sending tingles down your spine that made your head spin.

You gasped as he broke the kiss, your chests rising and falling in sync. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire and a hint of mischief. "Shall we continue this inside?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you responded, "Yes, please." Your eyes fluttered closed as his hands slid down to your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck as he carried you towards the bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft rustling of clothes as Jungwon laid you down on the bed. He stood over you, his eyes roaming over your face before he slowly removed his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs.

You bit your lip, your eyes taking in every inch of him as he slowly crawled onto the bed. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands reaching for the hem of your shirt. "May I?" His voice was soft, his eyes meeting yours for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as he slowly peeled your shirt off, his fingers brushing against your skin. He leaned down, his lips pressing against your collarbone, his hands sliding up your sides to unhook your bra. "You're so perfect,"

Your breasts spilled free from their confines, his hands cupping them gently, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples. The peaks taut and begging for his touch.

Jungwon's mouth moved lower, his lips wrapping around your right nipple while his hand teased the other. He sucked on it gently, swirling his tongue around the peak while his fingers pinched and rolled the other nipple between them.

Your back arched off the bed, your body responding to his touch instinctively. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently and encouraging him to continue. Jungwon's free hand made its way down your torso, tracing a path over your stomach until he reached the waistband of your pants.

His touch was gentle, his fingers trembling slightly as he unbuttoned your pants and slowly slid the zipper down. He glanced up at you, his eyes seeking permission once more. You nodded, your own hands shaking as you reached for his belt, mirroring his actions.

Together, you both undressed each other, each touch tentative and filled with desire. When you were both bare, Jungwon settled between your thighs, his eyes locked onto yours. "I...I've never done this before," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I want you so much."

Jungwon threw the last piece of cloth off, his cock sprang free from his boxers, the mushroom tip already glistening with precum. He quickly tore open a condom wrapper, rolling it down his shaft with practiced ease.

But as soon as he attempted to enter you, the condom burst, slick with his premature release. Jungwon let out a frustrated groan, discarding the ruined condom aside and reaching for another one. You couldn't help but giggle softly at the sight, finding his flustered state utterly adorable.

Jungwon leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours as he positioned himself between your legs. He reached down, running the mushroom tip of his leaking cock against your wetness, smearing the precum around your pussy lips and slicking himself up.

"You're so wet," he breathed, his voice husky with desire. "Is that all for me?" He asked, his fingers spreading your folds apart to reveal your swollen, needy flesh. He ran his thumb over your entrance, pressing it inside you as he slowly pumped it in and out.

"Y-Yes, all for you," you stammered, your face flushing with embarrassment. Jungwon's touch was clumsy, his inexperience evident as he tried to prepare you for him. He pushed another finger inside, scissoring them to stretch you wider.

"It-It's not enough," he muttered, more to himself than to you. He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking your nectar off of them. Your eyes widened at the gesture, your heart pounding in your chest. "Tastes like you,"

Jungwon positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance once more, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to align himself. He pushed forward, his thick head bumping against your tight ring of muscles. "Fuck, you're so small,"

"I-I know," you replied, biting your lower lip as you stared up at him. "It's my first time after all," you whispered, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Jungwon groaned, his face contorting in concentration as he tried to force his way inside. He pushed, and pushed, his cockhead stretching your delicate hymen to its breaking point. Finally, with a sharp pop, he broke through, the head of his dick sinking into your tight, virgin pussy.

"Oh god, it's so tight," he hissed, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "Is it hurting you?" He asked softly, his voice barely a whisper. You nodded, but wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

Jungwon's breath hitched as he was pulled closer, his cock sinking deeper into your tight heat. He could feel your walls stretching to accommodate him, the pressure incredible. He looked down at where you two were connected, his dick disappearing into your tiny pussy. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight,"

He began to move slowly, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again. His rhythm was uncoordinated, his movements clumsy as he struggled to find a comfortable pace. But with each thrust, he became bolder, his hips snapping forward harder, burying himself to the hilt inside of you.

You moaned, your back arching as his cock struck every sensitive spot inside of you. His hands moved to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading them as he fucked you. Your walls began to clench around him, tighter with each passing moment as pleasure rolled through your body.

Jungwon leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers left your breasts and slid down your body, slipping between your slick folds to find your swollen clit. He began to rub the sensitive nub gently as he continued to fuck you slowly.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily. "I love you so much," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. Jungwon's heart swelled in his chest, his love for you overwhelming him.

"And I love you too," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. He began to rub your clit faster, feeling the walls of your pussy contract around his cock in response. Jungwon knew he wouldn't last much longer, not with the way you were responding to his touch.

You reached up, tangling your fingers in Jungwon's hair as he rubbed your clit and fucked you. "Don't stop," you begged, your hips bucking against him desperately. Jungwon kissed you again, his lips moving against yours as he rubbed your clit with one hand and fucked you with the other.

The pressure inside you grew unbearable, your body tensing as you climbed closer and closer to the edge. "Jungwon..." you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. He nodded, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he increased the pressure on your swollen nub.

Your world narrowed down to the feeling of Jungwon's fingers on your clit and his cock buried inside you. The pressure became too much, and you came suddenly, your pussy spasming around his dick as you cried out in ecstasy.

Jungwon groaned against your neck, his own control snapping. He thrust into you twice more before burying himself to the hilt and coming inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He slumped against you, his weight a comforting pressure on your body.

Jungwon lifted his head, looking into your eyes with a soft smile. He gently pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the sudden separation. He quickly disposed of the condom in the nearby trash can, returning to your side almost immediately.

You blushed, suddenly shy as you pulled the blankets over your naked body. Jungwon chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Why so shy now?" He asked gently, his fingers entwining with yours beneath the blankets. "We just...you know...like that."

You hid your face in his chest, mumbling, "I know, but...it's different now. I'm not a virgin anymore. And you're...you're looking at me like you want to do it again." Jungwon laughed, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

"That's because I do," he admitted, his voice muffled against your hair. "But for now, let's just cuddle, okay?" He settled you against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. "We have the rest of our lives to keep making love, after all."

You snuggled closer, your arms wrapping around him tightly. "I love you," you murmured contentedly. Jungwon tightened his grip on you, his love for you overflowing. "And I love you too," he replied, his voice filled with emotion.

He began to stroke your hair gently, his fingers running through the soft strands as you lay contentedly in his arms. Outside, the rain continued to pour, the sound a soothing lullaby that matched the rhythm of your breathing.

As you drifted off to sleep, nestled in Jungwon's arms, you knew that this was where you belonged. With him. Always. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the storm outside, not the past, only the two of you and the love that bound you together.

© senascoop | tumblr

[aventurineswife]

I'm currently experiencing hsr brainrot help me, may I request aventurine, blade, sunday, jing yuan and boothill about their types or preferences(appearance, personality, and stuff like that) for their future significant partner? I'm not sure if this had been already done so ignore if yes!! Also I'm a new follower and I've read many of your works recently, I really love your writing style and how it ticks my brainrot just righttt ♡♡♡

HSR Characters and their preferences in a S/O

A/N: I tried my best here, but I didn’t get into specifics about hair color, eye color, or other physical attributes (except for scars and such). So please, don’t come after me (I’m joking, of course). After all, at the end of the day, it’s all fictional! 💀 And this is just my personal opinion on what the men would want in a S/O 😇. I hope you like this!

Appearance:

Aventurine is captivated by individuals who radiate subtle individuality—those who blend sophistication with an undercurrent of boldness. Unconventional touches like asymmetrical accessories, vibrant patterns, or a daring hairstyle intrigue him, especially when worn with confidence.

He’s drawn to a balance between practicality and elegance—someone whose style is functional yet carries an artistic flair, a quiet rebellion against conformity.

A piercing gaze, sharp and confident, mesmerizes him. He loves the challenge of eyes that seem to see past his charm and into the broken truths he hides.

Scars, blemishes, or physical imperfections catch his attention. They whisper untold stories he aches to unravel, providing a glimpse into the person beyond the surface.

Personality:

Aventurine seeks a partner who thrives in the dance of words and wit. He’s fascinated by someone who can keep him guessing—playfully resistant to his charm and never predictable.

He’s drawn to people who’ve endured hardship and emerged stronger, finding common ground in shared trauma or survival instincts.

While Aventurine guards his vulnerability, he craves someone with the emotional intelligence to see past his bravado. Their ability to intuit his needs, even when unspoken, creates a sense of safety.

He admires a grounding presence—someone self-assured yet humble, who can counterbalance his more dramatic tendencies without overshadowing him.

Compatibility:

High-stakes situations invigorate him, so he appreciates a partner who thrives under pressure. Whether it’s in a game of strategy or a tense negotiation, he seeks someone who can match his composure and cunning.

Trust is a slow-burning process for Aventurine. His partner must be patient, willing to navigate his walls without forcing him to open up before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Aventurine doesn’t just want a lover—he needs a partner-in-crime. Someone willing to embrace the thrill of calculated risks, whether it’s a dangerous gamble or a perfectly executed scheme.

They balance his indulgent tendencies, providing a steady hand when he flirts with self-destruction. Together, they form a dynamic duo—equal parts chaos and control.

Appearance:

Blade has little concern for traditional beauty, focusing instead on the feeling someone evokes. He’s drawn to understated traits that exude calm, mystery, or quiet strength.

A serene or enigmatic aura captivates him, especially in those who seem like they’ve weathered storms of their own. Scars or imperfections are less flaws and more badges of survival—silent testaments to a shared pain.

There’s a certain poetry in subtlety that Blade finds magnetic, such as the way someone carries themselves or a fleeting, knowing glance.

Personality:

Blade’s ideal partner must embody gentle resilience—a quiet strength that offers stability amidst his chaos. He’s not drawn to overt displays of power but rather to those who endure with grace.

His partner needs to respect his emotional distance and allow their bond to deepen organically. They provide solace through presence, not pressure.

Understanding his guilt and anger without pitying him is crucial. He needs someone who offers comfort without trying to “fix” him.

He admires individuals who remain true to themselves, even in the face of his volatility. Their grounded nature becomes his anchor.

Compatibility:

Blade struggles with verbal affection and grand gestures. His partner must value actions over words—small, meaningful gestures like a shared silence or a comforting touch.

Loyalty is paramount. Blade often tests boundaries, whether intentionally or not, and needs a partner who remains steadfast in their care.

Dynamic:

Blade seeks a relationship built on mutual protection. His ideal partner isn’t there to save him but to walk beside him as he confronts his demons.

Their love is a slow-burning fire, marked by quiet moments of vulnerability and unspoken understanding. They don’t demand his trust but earn it, piece by fractured piece.

Appearance:

Sunday gravitates toward those with an ethereal or graceful quality—a beauty that feels otherworldly yet grounded. He appreciates the quiet elegance that reflects his Halovian heritage.

Symbolic trinkets or meaningful accessories, like earrings or pendants, resonate deeply with him, mirroring his love for intricate details and subtle meaning.

Personality:

Sunday is drawn to those who counter his melancholic worldview with a hopeful, compassionate perspective. He needs someone who gently challenges his ideals without dismissing his emotions.

His partner must possess a quiet, unwavering self-confidence. They confront his twisted philosophies with patience and understanding, offering a grounding presence.

A partner with a playful streak appeals to him, especially when it contrasts with his solemn demeanor. Their lightheartedness reminds him of life’s simple joys.

Compatibility:

Sunday needs a partner who can understand his lofty ideals and gently challenge them, offering a grounded perspective that helps him reconcile his desire for a perfect world with the imperfections of reality. They should help him navigate his philosophical struggles without dismissing his emotions.

Sunday thrives in a relationship where emotional depth is paired with moments of lightness. His ideal partner balances serious conversations with a playful streak that brings joy and reminds him of life’s simple pleasures, helping him reconnect with spontaneous joy.

Trust is built slowly for Sunday, so his partner must be patient, allowing their bond to deepen organically. They should provide stability and comfort, supporting him as he works through his emotional walls and guiding him toward growth without forcing him to change before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Sunday’s ideal relationship thrives on emotional intimacy. His partner navigates his philosophical struggles with care, providing warmth and optimism without trying to fix him.

They challenge his tendency to idealize perfection, helping him rediscover beauty in imperfection and spontaneity.

Appearance:

Boothill is drawn to raw, unrefined beauty—someone who’s lived and survived, marked by the stories their body tells. Scars, tattoos, and bold fashion choices are a reflection of resilience and adventure, and he admires individuals who wear their history as a badge of honor. He’s captivated by those who can rock vibrant, contrasting colors or mismatched styles with confidence, projecting a sense of strength and individuality.

He’s particularly fond of eyes that burn with fire and determination—eyes that match his intensity, yet hold a vulnerability only the right person can see. Confidence is key, but it’s that unpolished confidence, the kind that’s earned through hardship, that pulls him in.

Personality:

Boothill craves a partner who can match his fierce energy and boldness. He’s drawn to those who share his burning passion for justice and fighting for what’s right, even if it means breaking the rules. He admires fearless individuals who challenge authority and embrace a world of gray, not just black and white.

A sharp, witty partner who can banter with him is essential—they need to hold their ground in arguments, but still know how to make him laugh. Beneath his hard exterior, he secretly yearns for warmth and loyalty, someone who sees past his rough exterior and recognizes the vulnerabilities hidden underneath.

Patience is a challenge for him, but he seeks someone who can balance his impulsive nature, tempering his decisions with wisdom while never dulling his fire. The ideal partner doesn’t just soothe his rage—they fan the flames in the best way possible, stoking the fires of his passion and his purpose.

Compatibility:

Boothill’s partner would have to keep up with his relentless pace, matching him in the heat of battle as much as in life. They must be able to stand beside him during intense moments of action, yet offer solace and understanding in quieter, more reflective ones. His ideal relationship is built on equal footing—where passion and respect for one another fuel their connection.

Their dynamic would never be boring—full of challenges, shared adventures, and a fiery bond formed through trials, risks, and the occasional reckless decision. They would push each other toward greatness, not with soothing words, but through daring acts of loyalty and love.

Dynamic:

Boothill wants a relationship full of intensity, one where his partner isn’t afraid to stand by him, even if it means navigating chaos or defying the odds together.

This is not a relationship where either party is passive—it’s a partnership of equals, where each individual’s strength and spirit fuel the other. Their love would burn brightly, fueled by both passion and unshakable loyalty, with both of them walking side by side through any storm, ready to fight for each other and what they believe in.

Appearance:

Jing Yuan is drawn to elegance and grace—someone whose appearance radiates composure and quiet strength. He appreciates fine details and a refined aesthetic, as he values artistry in all aspects of life. A partner who can carry themselves with quiet dignity, with clothing that flows or intricate designs, would catch his attention.

However, while Jing Yuan admires serenity, he finds himself captivated by the unexpected spark in someone’s personality. A playful glint in the eye or a mischievous smile is enough to unsettle his calm demeanor, drawing him in even more. He appreciates someone who can maintain their elegance but isn’t afraid to reveal the more unpredictable, adventurous sides of themselves when the moment calls for it.

Personality:

Jing Yuan is in search of a partner who has a calm, patient demeanor—someone who understands the complexities of his strategic mind and the burdens he carries. His ideal partner is not only compassionate and wise, but also someone who can see the long-term view, matching his ability to think and plan for the future.

At the same time, he’s charmed by a partner who can bring a sense of spontaneity to his life. While he thrives on stability, he appreciates the occasional touch of unpredictability—someone who can light a fire under his more sedentary tendencies, adding a dash of excitement to the otherwise peaceful routines he enjoys. He values a balance of tranquility and energy, where his partner’s playfulness can bring joy without overwhelming him.

Compatibility:

Jing Yuan’s ideal partner would have the patience to stand by him through quiet moments of reflection, as well as the capacity to engage with him in deep, meaningful conversations. They would respect his thoughtful, strategic nature, while also encouraging him to take moments of respite, enjoying the beauty of life’s simpler pleasures together.

They would need to understand his need for a sense of long-term stability, yet not let him become too withdrawn or passive. A deep intellectual connection, rooted in shared wisdom and mutual understanding, would lay the foundation of their bond. Their connection would be built on the steady progression of trust and affection, growing subtly over time.

Dynamic:

Jing Yuan seeks a partner who can offer emotional intimacy without pressuring him for more than he’s ready to give. They’d share moments of serene companionship, where quiet silences are comfortable, and words aren’t necessary to convey their bond. However, his ideal partner wouldn’t shy away from challenging him, nudging him out of his intellectual ruts and helping him see the world in a new light.

The dynamic would be one of mutual respect, with his partner both grounding him and adding an unpredictable spark to his life. While he values peacefulness, he enjoys the occasional adventure or light-hearted moments that break through his more serious demeanor, reminding him that even in the pursuit of wisdom, life can be full of wonder.

P-please don't come after me...😭😕

[luvleyshif4]

ALWAYS COMES BACK

Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: reader just loves Rafe so much she has to fight her anger issues…

Warnings: fluff, argument, very little angst, reader has anger issues, happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader is clingy kinda…

Word count: 1.23k words

Authors note: I wasn’t getting any ideas or motivation. And I also just love reading other people’s work more than making my own. But here’s something I thought of which I found kinda cute. Hope you guys like it😘😘

Rafe wasn’t the kind of person you’d ever pictured yourself with. On paper, the two of you couldn’t be more different. You were deliberate, composed, and fiercely independent. a far cry from the impulsive and turbulent life Rafe had once led. But by the time you crossed paths, he was already working on becoming someone better, someone worthy of a second chance.

The relationship didn’t start as a whirlwind romance. it was slow, careful, and built on countless hours of guarded conversations. Rafe had a way of disarming you, not with grand gestures but with quiet vulnerability. He let you in, into his world, his mind, his heart, and before you knew it, you couldn’t imagine life without him.

Being with Rafe wasn’t always easy, though. He had his moments of doubt, moments where his past tried to claw its way back. But you stood by him, matching his stubbornness with your own. Despite the occasional clash of temperaments, his protectiveness versus your independence. you found a rhythm. A messy, imperfect rhythm that somehow worked.

…..

The argument started in the kitchen of Tanneyhill, where you had been putting away washed dishes.

Rafe leaned against the counter, his expression hard and unreadable, while you paced across the tiled floor, your arms crossed defensively. What began as a small disagreement had escalated, both of you too proud and too stubborn to back down.

He was protective. too protective, in your eyes. His insistence on involving himself in matters you thought you could handle felt suffocating at times. And your frustration only fueled his need to assert himself, to convince you that he was right.

“You just don’t listen, Rafe!!” you snapped, your voice rising despite your attempts to stay calm.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his blue eyes narrowing. “And you don’t think about the consequences!” he shot back.

The argument snowballed from there, sharp words exchanged like blows, each one cutting deeper than the last. Your anger flared, your own temper spiraling out of control as you felt the familiar heat rise in your chest. Rafe wasn’t backing down, and neither were you.

Finally, you’d had enough.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the house, grabbing your car keys on the way. The heavy slam of the front door echoed behind you, a punctuation to your exit.

……

Sitting in the driver’s seat, your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. You hated when things got like this, heated, messy, unresolved. But your anger always had a way of clouding your judgment, making it hard to see beyond the moment.

The engine hummed as you started the car, but you didn’t move. Your thoughts swirled, fragments of the argument replaying in your mind. His frustration, your defensiveness, the sharp edge in his voice when he told you to “just let him protect you.”

You hated the way he said it. But you hated the way it made you feel even more. hated how you had reacted.

Because beneath your frustration was a truth you couldn’t ignore: Rafe’s actions, however misguided, always came from a place of love. And you hated being at odds with him.

With a sigh, you shut off the car and climbed out, the cool night air prickling your skin as you walked back toward the house. Each step felt heavier than the last, doubt creeping into your mind. What if he didn’t want to talk? What if you’d hurt him too much this time?

But then the door opened before you could knock.

Rafe stood in the doorway, keys being shoved in his pocket, his expression unreadable, though his furrowed brow and the tension in his shoulders betrayed his inner turmoil. His blue eyes met yours, searching, waiting.

For a moment, You just stood there with your arms crossed, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. But when your gaze met his, the resolve in your expression faltered.

You let out a small huff, your lips pressing together in a pout as you glanced down at the ground, suddenly unsure of what to say. You hated this, the awkwardness, the weight of the argument still hanging between you.

“I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

Rafe’s gaze softened, though he didn’t move. He simply stood there, waiting, giving you the space you needed.

Your arms dropped to your sides, your expression softening further, and without another thought, you took a step forward, closing the distance between you. Your hands found their way around his waist, your head resting against his chest as you hugged him tightly.

At first, he didn’t respond, his body stiff with surprise. But then his arms wrapped around you, his hold firm and steady, like he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

“I hate fighting with you,” you mumbled against his chest, your voice low, cracking, the words muffled but no less sincere.

Rafe let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing gesture. “I know,” he said quietly into the hair on top of your head. “Me too.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your head and look up at him. The edges of his lips curved faintly, though his gaze remained serious, searching yours.

“Do you forgive me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your lips quivered into a sad pout.

His lips twitched into a small smile, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “Always,” he murmured.

His hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb trailing down to your bottom lip, brushing softly against it, his voice low. “Though I can’t stay mad at you. Not when you look like this.”

A small laugh escaped your lips, the tension in the air momentarily easing. But the way he looked at you—the intensity, the raw tenderness—made your chest ache. You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. Without thinking, you leaned up on your toes, closing the distance.

Rafe met you halfway, his lips brushing against yours with a gentleness that contrasted the tension from earlier. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with an unspoken apology.

When you pulled back, he kept his forehead resting against yours. The silence stretched for a beat before he spoke, his voice low and steady.

“I love you,” he said, the words falling from his lips with quiet certainty, like they’d been waiting for the right moment.

Your breath caught, your heart thudding in your chest as his words sank in. A slow, shy smile spread across your face as you hide your face in his chest. “I love you, too,” you whispered, the confession falling from your lips just as easily.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the fight, not the frustration—just this. Just him.

Because in the end, no matter what, you’d always come back to him.

[ultear-tigra]

I literally cannot stop thinking about this prompt @burnt-toast2

please this is too funny this totally happened

please someone draw Chat Noir's reaction to it I can't :,D

I know you guys love Felix content so I tag you here hope it's ok @consistent-chaos-corporation @ninadove @noctie @moonieratty @halfahelix @paracosmicfawn @imperfect-storm you asked to tag u :3

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Prologue

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together���one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Masterlist: Here

There were few constants in your life: the salty tang of the Outer Banks air, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, and the endless drama of the Cameron family. You grew up here, just like them, but while they lived in a sprawling estate atop Figure Eight, you came from the modest side of the island.

You had known Sarah Cameron for as long as you could remember. She was the kind of girl who could charm anyone with a smile, the girl everyone wanted to be friends with. But unlike most, you didn’t want her for her name or her wealth. You liked Sarah for her heart. She didn’t care about the boundaries between Pogues and Kooks; she made everyone feel like they belonged.

By the time you hit high school, Sarah was your best friend, and you were practically inseparable. She introduced you to John B. during your junior year. He was scrappy and full of life, and you quickly fell into a comfortable friendship with the two of them.

Rafe Cameron, however, was a different story.

Rafe always lurked on the periphery of your life, like a storm cloud threatening a clear sky. He wasn’t like Sarah. Where she was warm and easygoing, Rafe was sharp edges and unpredictable tempers. You’d crossed paths countless times, but they were rarely pleasant encounters.

You remembered the first time you met him clearly. It was Sarah’s 16th birthday party, a massive affair with twinkling lights strung across the Cameron backyard. You were lingering by the dessert table when Rafe swaggered up, red Solo cup in hand and a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“You must be Sarah's best friend,” he said, sizing you up in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Yeah. And you’re Rafe,” you replied curtly, wishing Sarah would swoop in to rescue you.

“Sarah’s little charity project,” he said with a laugh, taking a sip of his drink.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to his bait. “And you’re the reason half the town avoids this place like the plague.”

To your surprise, he laughed again, this time louder. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

It was the start of an unspoken rivalry, one that lasted for years. Where Sarah tried to bring people together, Rafe pushed them apart. His antics grew wilder with time: parties that spiraled out of control, brushes with the law, and rumors of worse. You avoided him as much as possible, which wasn’t easy when Sarah was your best friend.

After high school, you moved into your own place on the south side of the island, taking a job at a local café while figuring out what you wanted to do with your life. Sarah and John B. were building their lives together, too, settling into a cozy house not far from the beach. And then there was Willa.

Willa was their miracle. Born a month premature, she was tiny but fierce from the start. You adored her, becoming the self-proclaimed honorary aunt who babysat whenever Sarah and John B. needed a break.

Life was steady, even happy, despite its imperfections. You had your routine, your little found family with Sarah, John B., and Willa. Rafe was a distant memory most of the time, someone you only saw at obligatory gatherings where you both pretended the other didn’t exist.

So when the call came, ripping Sarah and John B. away in an instant, the grief was like a black hole, pulling everything you knew into its crushing void.

And then came the twist you hadn’t seen coming.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[letorip]

can you write something short and fluffy :( like jenna or wednesday being tired or something

j's lullaby

"darlin' i'd wait for you, even if you didn't ask me to"

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pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: jenna comes home incredibly late and can't wait to collapse into your arms after a long day

warnings: nada, entirely just fluff and comforting someone's exhaustion

word count: 1.2k

A/N: sorry for getting to this now, it was requested months and months ago. feels good to write something sweet for once, and without somewhere to branch off to. i like writing my stories, but it's fun to leave so much up to the reader. maybe i'll do more of these.

===+++===

===+++===

Even from inside the warmth of your apartment, it was impossible to be unaware of the raging storm outside. You could hear the pattering of raindrops upon the stucco roof in small thuds that had faded gently into the background a good thirty minutes ago and given no indication of letting up anytime soon, either.

Not that it would have mattered. You stood in the kitchen with the kettle going on the stove, attempting to read a rather enthralling chapter of your book in the dim, warm light that hung over your microwave, and then rereading it for a third or fourth time when the words became an unintelligible mess in your head, whether it be from the lack of light or sluggish ability to think.

It was a little too late to turn the kitchen light on, not that you were a big fan of the overhead light, but it would've brought a crude harshness to the drowsiness you were attempting to fight off.

Even night owls had their limitations. Sleep snuck up on you at the wispy edges, pulling down on your eyelashes. The clock on your microwave ticked to 4:28, and you turned the page in your book, hearing the kettle's whistle begin to take frequency, one you were sure the neighbours could hear.

In retrospect the somewhat thin walls were the only thing imperfect about the place, with giant windows and warm, teakwood floors. That and your kitchen's tile floor being kind of cold in the morning, but even then, both you and Jenna wore socks in the house, so it wasn't much of a drawback. You would only live there for a few weeks more anyhow, before you both went back to Los Angeles. In the meantime you could cope with the plush floor rug that Natalie had sent.

With one thumb on the thin page of your beaten up novel and the rest of that hand pinning it to the countertop, you lifted the kettle gently towards your old ceramic mug with the chip in the corner and a teabag’s string hanging over the side. The hot water steamed and gently wafted over the apples of your cheeks, and it added a further weight, the room filling with a flowery smell.

As you grabbed a small spoon from the drawer, the front door’s knob audibly turned, creaking open on its hinges and letting some of the nighttime noise flood in, if only for a moment. You grinned at the noise with an excitement that would’ve been impossible to mask, stirring your drink and calling over your shoulder, down the hall. “Hey, in here.”

The door swung shut behind her and a few, tired steps later, Jenna stood in the doorway. You stayed focused on the task at hand, stirring your tea, but you could feel her eyes stay locked upon your face. She wandered over, coming up behind you where you stood and wrapping her arms around your torso, pressing the plane of her cheek against your shoulder blade.

She held you tightly, as if she wanted to melt together. “You didn’t have to wait up for me. It’s almost 5 in the morning.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” you shrugged. “I wanted to.” Her arms wrapped around you just a bit tighter, holding you there and sighing into the soft, worn fabric of your old shirt.

“I made tea,” you hummed. “Do you want any?” She shook her head into your back, almost purring in contentment.

“‘M too tired,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, you got back late,” you said, pushing the tea mug away and turning around to get a good look at her. She was beautiful, that was a given, but she also looked exhausted, with thick, dark eye bags and the tips of her dark bangs a little bit wet from the rain outside.

“Tim wanted to talk about the big scene we have coming up,” she whispered. You hummed again, watching her with a little bit of concern and she looked back at you with a fondness.

“Come on, off to bed with you,” you straightened up, holding out your hand for her to take, and grabbing your book with a finger left between the binding to hold your spot.

She rolled her eyes with a gentle huff but did not protest, letting you lead her gently into your bedroom. There were still a few candles you had lit for just in case during the storm, filling your room with a yellowish, warm glow, and you blew them out while Jenna got changed into her pyjamas.

“Oh, your mum called, by the way,” you said with a gentle smile, pulling the sheets back to sit on the edge. You pulled your woollen, thick socks off and flung them towards the far wall; you could pick them up tomorrow.

She gave you a sleepy nod, wandering towards the bathroom and sliding the door open. “Just checking in?”

“Yeah, wants you to call her tomorrow… which I guess is now today. She wants to her all about work.” You thumbed open your book while you waited for her to finish brushing her teeth, reading a few lines before she reappeared about a minute later, flicking off the light.

Jenna walked right over, pulling the sheets back and then practically collapsing on top of you, her head nuzzling into your neck. You could feel the cold edge of her nose pressing gently against the edge of your jaw, and it sent a small shiver down your spine. You put the book on your bedside table, sliding your eyeglasses off of your weary ears and stacking it on top, along with clicking the lamp off.

You would’ve planted a kiss upon her forehead, but she seemed all too comfortable for you to shift your position, and you were quite certain— though you couldn’t actually see— that her eyes were already closed and she was letting her exhaustion take over.

“I missed you, today,” she whispered.

“I missed you too.”

“Hm.” You both sat in silence for a minute, and you were convinced she had dozed off until she spoke again, even quieter than before. “Tell me about your day, love?”

“Well, let’s see,” you sighed. “Got up around 10, maybe? Did laundry—”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face further into you.

“Mhm. Went to the shops. Made dinner. Watched that show I told you about.”

“Did you write, today?” The words were sluggish and slow, and you could tell she was lulling to sleep more and more.

“Nope,” you said with a small chuckle, and you felt Jenna smile against your neck. “I’m still waiting for that burst of creativity, y’know? I’ll find it when I find it. What about you? How was your day?”

But she didn’t answer, and you were perfectly fine with that. You could ask her in the morning, after all. And you could drink the cold tea you had completely forgotten about then, too.

short, sweet, and pretty cute. i'm happy with it. i think oneshots are incredibly fun. also calm yourself, i'm still finishing kiss with a fist [iv] i cannot stress enough how much i'm excited for it but it is NOT ready yet