#in a way nobody else ever could. it means SO much to him. it sticks with him.. you can see it in the way he incorporates them

[sensesdialed]

can i talk about how much being around other spider people would mean to peter after he's been so incredibly lonely post-nwh. can i talk about it

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

Everyone Hates Todo Except You

The best part about Todo is that you don’t have to put yandere in front of him because his normal behavior already screams delusional and obsessive.   You cannot convince me that he doesn’t sniff all your things as soon as you’re not looking.  He’s just so intense.  I love this man, need to catch up on jjk.

~1k words. Thank you to whoever requested this and I hope you enjoy!

At the Kyoto branch, nobody really bothers sticking their nose in Todo’s business.  But when there’s an enormous mound of trash bags outside his room that just keeps getting bigger, concerning glances and eyebrow raises no longer cut it.  Normally his antics earn a side eye or two, but lately it’s been a little much, even for him.  At the breakfast table the next day, the girls decide to draw straws to see who has to tell him to move his shit.

���It’s not fair!  Why do I have to do it?”  Miwa groans, cursing her bad luck for the thousandth time.  

“It is fair, you just happened to draw the short straw now go deal with it!  We'll back you up.”  Mai grins, knowing full well she rigged it.

Kasumi Miwa would rather be doing literally anything else at this moment.  She timidly knocks on the door, and says, “Todo?  Could you move all this stuff please?  You’re starting to block the hallway.”

“Yeah I’ll get to it whenever I get the rest of this junk cleaned up.  Don’t worry there’s no food waste so there shouldn’t be any smell.”

“B-but Todo…. It's been almost a week now…”  The only response was the muted sound of shuffling.

Miwa looks back in defeat at her so-called “back up” as they peek from behind the corner.  Their best bet now is to get one of the boys to convince him.  And if they fail it’s straight to Utahime-sensei.  

Todo looks at his room, emptier than it’s ever been.  He knew this was the likeliest outcome.  Takada-chan was a beloved idol, and even if she liked him back (which he thought she might have at some point) there was no way she could be with him.  He knew, but it doesn't mean it hurt any less.  There were years of carefully collected merch, thousands of dollars being stuffed into trash bags to be thrown away.  But instead of the despair he carefully denied for years, he didn’t feel any loss throwing away all the autographed posters and pictures.  No, he had something much better now, someone who could actually be with him in this wretched, boring world.  He had his wonderful, gorgeous, beautiful, perfect in every way girlfriend.  And while you weren’t aware that you were destined to be with him yet, he would make sure you’d know soon.  As soon as he finished purging his space of Takada-chan (it wouldn’t do to have pictures of an old flame) he’d confess.  

A few days later he was tying up the last trash bag, ready to enact his plan.  He asked you to meet him under the largest tree in the forest on the edge of the training field.  Several hypothetical scenarios floated through his mind, and he focused on the one where you’d enthusiastically said you loved him back and then he married you and had many children.  As he neared the confession site, Todo felt yet another arrow go through his heart as you came into view.  I’ll never get tired of seeing her.

“Todo, is everything okay?  What’s up?”  A shiver ran down Todo’s spine, goosebumps rising.  God, even your voice was perfect.

“I love you.  Promise me, y/n.  That we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.”  He got down on one knee like a proposal, looking up at you like a devout follower.

“Todo… I don’t know about the rest of our lives but why don’t we start with a date?  I like you too.”  While you were a bit taken aback by his forwardness, you brush it off as Todo being Todo.  You never disliked his honesty and unabashedness.

“My girlfriend!! I knew you felt the same!”  A single tear ran down Todo’s face.   

Back to the dorms, it wasn’t long before everyone found out and congregated at your room to badger you with questions.  

“Ugh that gorilla?  You guys are dating now?”  Nishimiya asked, firmly believing Todo to be an improper and inadequate boyfriend.  

“I thought he only had eyes for that idol Takado or whatever,” Miwa chimes.

“It’s Takada,” Mai corrects, not able to make eye contact with Nishimiya’s suspicious glance in her direction. 

“We’re dating now!  He just asked me out, and he’s really good to me.” you reply, thinking of how Todo insisted on carrying you back to the dorms, gently setting you down before running off saying he needed to ‘prepare’.  

“You can do way better than Todo, trust us.” The girls all nod in agreement.  However, Todo is outside your room balancing a tray of perfectly cooked lunch and a cold pitcher of water.  

“What are you guys talking about?”  he knows already, but wants to hear them say it to his face.  

“How y/n is too good for the likes of you.”  Mai minces no words for Todo.  With the uncomfortable tension rising, the Kyoto girls hastily make an exit.  

“My love, I made lunch for us.  I know I am not handsome, or come from wealth and a good sorcerer family like some of our classmates.  But I will be devoted.  I will never stray from you, I’d die if you asked me to.”  he says, as he sets the meal on your small desk, pulling out utensils and napkins.  His normal confidence seems to waver a bit, and it seems that not even Todo is immune to worrying about what other people think of him.  

“Todo, don’t worry about what they say and please don’t say you’ll die for me.  I like you a lot, I wouldn’t have accepted your confession if I didn’t.  I also think you’re quite handsome.”  

“You love me back?”  he whispers, kneeling at the edge of your bed, looking up at you.  While it’s a bit too early to tell, Todo’s hopeful, reverent look has you obliging him. 

“I do love you back.”  He embraces you, and you can hear his heartbeat in his bare chest.  It feels good to be loved so wholeheartedly, and you’ll give him all the love you have to repay him.  

[0nonjudgement0]

★Phillip Graves Headcannons★

~Reader as his s/o~

Content warnings: half fluff, half suggestive.

SFW

♤ You will put on some pounds while dating him. It's inevitable. This mans got an appetite and he quells it through fishing, hunting, barbecuing, and frying. There's always a tub full of hush-puppies in his home at all times, with a nice gallon of sweet tea in the fridge.

♤ Contrary to popular belief, Phillip is not bigoted. (Just because a character is Southern or rural does not automatically mean they are buffoons and hateful. That is a classist stereotype that keeps farmers, poor people, and many others seen as inhuman, therefore “justifying” the reason that they are exploited) I mean, from what I could find, he grew up near/around Dallas. That is a majority minority city.

I believe he does that tight-lipped frown he does whenever someone says something he disagrees with.

♤ Is verrrryyyy touchy. Like, he doesn’t just have his hand on your hip, oh no. His arm is around your waist, squeezing so close to his side, sneaking a kiss whenever he can. His hold is tight. Nobody doesn’t know your his.

♤ He put a ring on it immediately. Tried to in the first few months, even. He already knew whether you liked silver or gold, what cut you wanted, and what other gem/crystal you liked besides diamond to get them both together. When you said it wasn’t a good idea, he gave you a ring with you and his birthstone on it… and diamond, with the top quality metal. He kept the other ring anyway, even if he didn’t propose right then.

NSFW

♤ Missionary all the way. He’s a bit old-fashioned, finds anything else a showy and fake, sticking to the classics. If you insisted on something else, he’d stay stuck to you like glue if he couldn’t see your face, being extra gentle.

♤ With the whole gaining a few pounds thing, he prefers some meat on your bones. If you don’t have much, he’ll make sure to offer some more rolls and add a little more butter to the pan. He was ecstatic the day he saw a little more of your ass peeking out of your underwear. He almost came in his

♤ Worshipping. Worshipping, worshipping, worshipping. That’s what sex is to him, showing mutual appreciation and affection towards the other. But he’s always been so used to giving it that if you ever did it to him, he wouldn’t know what to do. Probably be twitchy and flushed like a tomato, jerking and flinching at any touch.

♤ Like a teenage boy. His sex drive is truly wild. He will be exhausted and tired and his whole body hurting and he will still be trying to crawl between your legs. Needs it, like air. Even if he is fucked-out, he will just fall on top of you and grind slowly. Happy wife, happy life as they say.

♤ With being touchy, that does not stop at just a firm arm around you. Has no problem smacking your ass in front of everyone. Hell, you should expect it if you wear any tight pants. Sitting on his lap? He’s got his head laying on your chest, rubbing up and down your thighs, the edge of his fingers slipping ever so slightly past your panties. Standing in front of him? Hands to hips like thors hammer, your back directly against his chest. Cold? He’ll warm you up. Meet him in the bathroom.

[parfaitblogs]

you know what would be cool? A blurb about Spencer and girly!reader who's a total nerd and loves ribbons, dresses and jewels. I HATE the stereotype of nerdy people who don't care much about how they look and dress in a ""weird"" way

spencer reid x girly!reader. fluff. 0.6k words. fem reader. reader likes harry potter (it's briefly mentioned. fuck jkr!)

a/n: so u mean penelope garcia?? kidding! idk how good i feel about this but i really wanted to get this request up sorry it’s so late :( thank you for the request ♡

spencer reid who did not expect to feel anything other than fleeting attraction for the pretty girl he had bumped into at the coffee shop closest to the quantico building. or to actually see you again other than that one moment in the midst of his running-late-to-work panic. only to have found out that the brand new member that aaron hotchner was introducing that day was none other than that same pretty girl. 

who had stammered out another apology — the stack of them were growing quite high for a man you had only met that morning — and introduced himself to you, properly. spencer reid who you could hear telling morgan to shut up, because "she might hear you!" because he was teasing spencer about the way he was looking at you and he feared the absolute worst when it came to girls like you. 

spencer reid who's nerves melted away the first time you contributed something to the team during a briefing — something about the statistics of the child abduction you all were currently investigating, that he was able to bounce off of and agree with. you both had to dumb down the words you had used and explain it to the rest of the team again. which he was used to. he didn't think he'd ever find someone who had to do that as well. 

who listened to you when you began to ramble about this book series you were reading and how cool it is because "it spans like three different continents and there's so many different sub-series but they all connect somehow!" and nobody else was listening. but he was.

spencer reid who began to accept your rides home after you had learned he usually catches the train, because you had discovered he lived only a block away from you. rides home that eventually turned into going over to each other's apartments after that one time he said he wanted to show you the hogwarts lego set because you mentioned liking the series. 

he stopped coming up with excuses to have you over the fourth time, and had simply said "i just want you to come over". that was the day you had discovered you think you might like him. 

spencer reid who let you sleep on his bed despite your own insistence when it hit two in the morning and you both had work the next morning and you were still at his apartment watching doctor who together (he was flabbergasted to learn you had never seen it). 

and he had woken you up the next morning and he was so cute and his hair was sticking up everywhere and he was kind of smiling at you and you confirmed with yourself that yes, you liked him. 

spencer reid who had properly asked you on a date after a long three months of you flirting with him because morgan had been seeing it and was getting sick of him doing nothing about it. who picked you up this time, and had laughed when you wound the windows of his car back up because "my hair will fly everywhere!" and "if i lose this bow, you're paying for a new one spencer reid!"

but he had also kind of forgotten how to talk, when he sat across from you at the kind of dingy italian restaurant (he didn't know where else to take you, okay?). because while he had fallen for a girl who shared so many interests with him he was sure she might be his carbon copy, he was also violently reminded (as he was every time he looked at you) how pretty you were. 

and spencer reid wishes he could describe you with any other word, because he's sure there's bigger and harder to say words out there that could describe you. but none of them made sense the way pretty did. 

you had questioned his silence and he had stammered as much as he did the day you met, and you smiled because if all it took was you dressing up to fluster him, you decided you'd do it a lot more often.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

BREATHPLAY

ex!leon kennedy x fem!reader

notes: this year has been a lot so far LOL but part of this fic is based on my meditations after a breakup from a long term relationship so enjoy. descriptions of a rocky relationship, maybe a makeup? drunk sex (both lol), sub!leon and dom!reader, some religious tones. also shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet for safe when i fall i think i got inspired by that one :).

Leon and you never really meshed. Rough edges against other rough edges doesn’t mean sanding down so you’ll fit together nicely.

He’s uniquely good at pissing you off. He leaves the toilet seat up (you put it down), he doesn’t like cooking (“I have cereal,” he says, but muscles like those in his arms don’t live off cereal), he refuses to leave his shoes by the door and tracks in mud/dirt/snow/slush/leaves on the floor and your heart (no matter how many times you make him mop up his mess), he’s contrarian for the sake of having something to argue about (read: talk about).

Sheepish schoolboy through and through, no matter how old or grizzled he gets.

The one thing you two could agree on was always the bedroom, he was much easier to bear when he just shut the fuck up for once and put his mouth to better uses. He was always happy to worship at your altar, anyway.

You, oh, you. Leon loves you to bits, you’re his favorite mule. On one hand, stubbornness got you almost everything you wanted, him included. On the other, you’re almost impossible to deal with when you get in a certain way.

Leon likes to feel manly every once in a while, you know?

You also don’t tell him when you’re pissed, you just shut the hell up and shut him out until you’re ready to talk to him, practically scrubbing the dishes until the nonstick coating comes off.

Something you two implicitly agreed on was to hang on—and, boy, was that a mistake. People always say that you should stick it out, a rough patch is just that, you’ll come out stronger together.

What they don’t tell you is that some things are past the salvageable point and it’s better to know when to quit.

There was a lot of yelling that night before Leon packed up his shit and finally left.

You’d had a while of peace, it felt good, organic even, to get Leon out of your system in all the ways that could be meant.

Story of your fucking life that nobody else could get you off the way Leon can. It doesn’t even come down to skill, it just comes down to good old capacity to give a shit—but that’s what you get when you fuck a guy or three after your ex, who you were with for a handful of years, who had the opportunity to learn what makes you break open.

To you, this breakup felt like swimming to the surface after a few years under water.

Leon had the opposite sort of idea. He didn’t want to touch anyone else, he didn’t want to look at any other woman but you. He deleted your nudes off his phone in a drunken haze, so it’s only memories that get him off when he’s drunk—that is, if whiskey dick hasn’t struck him yet again.

(Another one of your complaints.)

Every time you said you’d go to your friends, they discouraged you from ever talking to him again. They went so far as to take your phone and change the contact name to DON’T EVER FUCKING CALL, changing the profile picture from Leon giving you bunny ears in a mirror selfie to a red stop sign.

You kinda miss Leon the way you miss a bruise, pressing on it a little longer for the hurt and for it to stay. Oh, the love was there too, and you two still yelled at one another or gave the silent treatment until someone (him) broke, walking to you on his knees.

Half a year goes by without you thinking about Leon as much as you could perhaps be. You came real close to breaking after about month two without freshly mopped floors because someone was so excited to be home with you that he forgot to take off his shoes, your friends saved you at the last second.

Month seven is when things get a little rocky. Spring’s coming again, even if the ground’s a little frosty still. Leon texts you first around eleven-fifty at night, when you’re scrolling on your phone in bed.

Hey.

What the fuck? You have to stare at the screen unseeingly for a moment, then blink, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them again to a simple greeting. You can almost imagine the tone he’s taking—he takes that one with you after he starts an argument with you just to talk to you about something.

God, back. Get a fucking hold of yourself.

Oh, hell. He’s texting.

I miss you.

Fuck.

Sluggish thumbs pause and hover over the screen.

Do you?

Like a limb. Is his immediate response. The next, a blurry pic of him raking his hand through his hair, gold chain glinting in the flash.

Christ on a cracker.

You can almost feel the chain in your hand the longer you look at it. The pleasantly surprised look on Leon’s face when you first grabbed the chain to carefully tug him closer is still burned in your mind, that’s what gets you off some days. Well, that and the other things you two did.

Come over? Startles you out of your reverie. Baby Christ in the manger with the sheep. Is this really you? Are you the type of bitch to go back to your ex, even for a night? Would future you be disappointed?

Yeah. Be there in ten. Future you is gonna be well-dicked, if and when she beats you up about this.

All Leon sends is his address as you kick off the covers and dress hurriedly, practically running out of your apartment.

You got there in seven. You take care to look nonchalant as you get out of your car, shutting it with a hip and locking it. You shove your keys into your pocket and scope out the apartment numbers as you get up onto the curb, then the sidewalk.

Your foot skids on a stair and you curse, glad you had a hand on the railing as you pause before continuing your ascension.

You barely finish knocking before the door opens, Lazarus fresh from the tomb in all his disheveled glory before you. Your heart’s in your throat. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Leon twists to the side, allowing you in.

Talk about a bachelor pad. You scope out the place as you toe off your shoes, leaned halfway against the wall.

TV’s on, he’s watching something. There’s vodka bottles littering the coffee table and only one light on in a corner of the room.

The door latches behind you and Leon stifles a hiccup into a fist. “You got here quick.” He says, sidestepping you fluidly and going over to the couch. He sits back down, swallowing some more vodka.

Your face goes hot. “I was overcompensating to not fall asleep at the wheel.” You shrug off your jacket, revealing your baggy shirt. There’s nowhere to hang it, so you drop it on the floor and walk over to the couch, plopping down. Ew, it’s pleather.

Leon snorts into his drink and you try not to gawk at his biceps. “Right.” He agrees solemnly, swallowing a little more vodka before he gets up, getting you a tumbler. He looks fucking delicious. “One or two.”

You hate straight vodka. “One.” Why the fuck not? That’s the flinch, isn’t it?

Leon pours you a shot and clinks your glasses together, passing it to you with his finger inside the rim.

You down it without tasting it, and so does he. You lean forward and pour another, swallowing it down with a burn lingering in your nose. When you have about four shots in your system, Leon speaks up.

“You know, people were right when they said that love is not enough.” He muses, swirling his glass around. Some sloshes over his hand and he slurps it up loudly. “Wasn’t for us.”

Your tongue feels heavy. Despite that, you don’t disagree.

When you’re silent for a little while, buzzed mind attempting to work, he scoffs. “Stop clamming up. It’s me.”

“That’s why I’m clamming up.” You snap after a moment, offense cutting through your buzz. “Because it’s you.”

Leon looks a little less pleased, pink mouth twisting and dipping at the corners. He downs a shot and pours another. You follow, plucking at your shirt to cool down as you sit back against the pleather upholstery.

“We were good, though, right?”

You watch the light play off his face, the blue light and shadows sharpening his features. “Sometimes.” You muster after a while, looking down at your shot glass. “When it was bad, it was bad.”

“Rough patches.” Leon mutters back, though he doesn’t seem to really agree. He sets his empty shot glass on the coffee table and sits back, lacing his fingers together behind his head as he watches the muted TV.

That v-line, he always made such pretty noises when you got to that. “Seems like the patches were the relationship.” You take another shot.

Leon shrugs without looking at you. Prick.

Another shot, more silence before you break it, feeling hot all over. “Did you call me over just to drink?”

Leon’s eyes flick over to you, skating over your features. He loved you, maybe. Loves? “Not really.”

Right. You always come when called.

“I just needed you close to me. Even for a moment.” He admits, eyes dropping from the TV to the coffee table.

He stinks of vodka and sweat when you crawl into his lap, ultraviolet eyes flashing wide for a moment before his hands settle on your hips, thumbs swiping over your bunny pajama pants. Muscle memory.

“You know what they say.” You lean in, eyes flicking between his eyes and his mouth, “Drunk words—“

“Are sober thoughts.” Leon finishes for you, chin tipping up as his eyes lid halfway. “You really are a broken record.”

“Fuck you.”

“You will.” Leon tastes like vodka and iron when he closes the distance between you, his lips slightly chapped. Nervous habit of his, he bites his lips.

It’s a little like being able to breathe. Maybe. It just feels really fucking good.

Leon pulls off your pants somehow, landing a smack to your ass to see the offended look you give him. You scratch him a little in return when you tug down his pants, he turns redder than his alcohol flush and dick jumping behind his boxers.

“Missed these most, fuckin’ hell.” Leon squeezes your tits when he gets your shirt off, leaving a kiss on the right side.

“Did mommy not breastfeed you?” You mock him as you tug his boxers down, rising up on your knees as he leaves you to struggle with his clothes. That vodka left you a little wetter than usual, it seems.

Leon leaves a half-gentle bite and you hiss, digging your nails into his thigh. “Dunno—“ You cut him off with a slow descent, back straightening as you hold in what could be a very incriminating noise. “You wanna try?” He says behind gritted teeth, eyes falling shut with a relieved expression.

You give a strained scoff, digging your nose into his cheek as you lace your arms around his neck, rolling your hips against his.

Leon whines behind a closed mouth, pressing his cheek against yours as his hands wander up and down your sides. You get to watch his eyes roll back when you lace your fingers in his hair and tug. His blunt nails dig into your skin, another louder whine leaving him.

Hitting all his weak spots coupled with the first time with you in a few months has him hurtling over the edge sooner than expected. Honestly, you too.

“In?” Leon pants, eyes opening behind his sweaty bangs, hips jumping to meet yours midway. “Out? How do you want me?”

Thank God, your thighs are beginning to burn. “In.” You leave a wet kiss on his cheek, reaching down with your other hand to fumble with your clit.

He comes right before you do, a pathetic sounding whine leaving him as he spills inside you. You collapse against him, panting for breath and sated in a way you haven’t been for a while.

While you collect yourselves and your dignity, Leon’s hands keep moving up and down your back and sides, soft puffs of breath blowing your hair.

It’s dead silent in the apartment, save only for your breaths. Sweat sticks you two together, you grimace as you peel yourself off him, flopping off to his side and making a mess (what a waste).

Silence reigns for a while longer as you pick at Leon’s fake leather upholstery, a million and one things on your mind. “We can’t be friends.” You mutter after a while.

Leon watches you, sweaty hair sticking up at every angle. “No.” He agrees after a silent moment, not bothering to slap your hand away as you keep picking at his fake leather couch. “I don’t think we ever could be.”

You shake your head, eyes on the patchy upholstery. “And we aren’t lovers.”

Leon shoves his hand beneath yours and holds it so you stop picking at the upholstery. “We could be.”

“Maybe.” But you know him and his soft heart. Beneath it, your heart’s soft too. “We’ll fight, though.”

Leon’s finger runs across your palm. “I like our fights.”

You close and open your hand around his finger. “And we only ever seem to communicate when you’re inside me.”

Leon shrugs. “We should just be physical.”

Round and round in circles we go.

[pjackk]

Extremley Urgent Action Needed

Hi everybody i hate to to it but im in a realy bad spot and ive been pretty much bummed out really badly lately and lots of people on here are actually being really bad to me constantly and telling me lots of mean shit all the time and im pretty much in a super bad spot because im mentally fucked up badly right now and the theres some some holidays and shit comign up and i dont give a fuck about heaven or hell cuz my life is fucked anyways and going to shit so i dont know how it could really get worst but i pretty much want to treat myself and practice self care by making the right choices for me and getting shit that i really want as a gift to myself since nobody else will ever get me free shit since im a societal freak and a piece of shit apparently and something i really want is a Cast Iron Money Man

So the great part about the guinness Stout moneyman is that on top of making me enjoy my life for once in my fcking life if i had him it would teach me how to save my coins and put them in a safe place so they dotn keep falling down the drain because whenever im counting my pennies and other brown or shiny colored coins its always in the sink cuz thats the only place not filled to the brim with stupid shit i keep finding LOL i keep finding shit on the ground and in the trash and its often interesting as fuck shit like a stick that would be realy goood for turning into a weapon if needs to be if i was attacked from every angel a great way to fight them and a perfect advantage to have is to have the range advantage so if the thieves and other bandits were coming at me with knives and shit i would be able to bash them with my stick and maybe break there bodys while im at it and i could legaly say i killed them to defend my self and all my other shit so anyways theres tons of shit everywhere and since i just throw away my dishes when im done with them because they are way to dirty and beyond even the level to get it cleaned no more cuz shit is dried on there and wont come off if i make it wet i just gie up so that means theres never shit in my sink exept for the coins when im counting them but the big problem is i dont have a money man made out of cast iron to keep my coins safe so they fall down the drain and when i try to pop them up by dumping oil in the drain and using gargage disposal switch it just crunches them up and shoots fragments into my glasses and always breaks my glasses so i always have to get new glasses since they are always breakign whenever i lose my coins but the big problem is since i dont have my coins no more since they all get all torn up and shit its super hard to afford new glasses or food at all even though i dont technicaly have to eat its always fun to eat yummy shit so please consider to send me money to help muy shit as fuck mental get better and invest in my prosperity i promise u it will trickle down to u and u will benefit from my well being im actually working on a new CD right now with dope as fuck music but its realy really hard to be creative when i dont want to get out of bed because im always hung tf over from drinking a shit load of top notch gin a the pub all night and feeling super depresed basicaly my Guinenss beer Shaped money man would be a perfect way to solve my problems let me know if u want to help by clicking the beer above and giving me money to spend on my cast iron money man

[callme-holly]

Could u make head-cannons of the greasers as dads

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐬

a/n: everyone is obviously aged up. This is just my opinion on this: everyone else's may be different !!

Darry Curtis:

Darry would be the most responsible and caring dad ever. He would absolutely adore his kids and will do everything he can to make sure they’re happy and healthy. His parents were very supportive when he was growing up, and he probably looks up to them quite a lot when it comes to his own parental skills.

He’s very hands-on, helping them with everything they need and making sure they know they can come to him for anything. They’ll follow him around the house, and he won't ever complain, and when he comes home from work, he absolutely loves being greeted by your kids, cuddling up with them on the couch, and watching tv. He definitely has a more strict and protective side; he knows how cruel the world can be, and he doesn’t want his children exposed to the same hardships he was. Because of that, he can shelter them quite a bit; however, he does it out of pure love and means no harm by it.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda is such a girl dad, and nobody can change my mind. He’s the fun dad, and he’s very hands-on when it comes down to the fun stuff. He’ll play games with your kid for hours on end, whether it’s dress-up or running around the yard to burn off energy.

When it comes to discipline, he isn’t the best, and it will probably fall more into your hands. He tries to stay serious, but the second the kid pouts or whines at him, he’s melting. He hates when they’re upset and does everything he can to make sure they’re happy. He’ll give them cuddles, tell them stories, let them watch TV, you name it, anything to keep them smiling. He probably spoils your kid rotten, getting them whatever they want no matter how much you tell him not to. 

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony would be so incredibly patient with your guys’ kids, teaching them everything they need to know. He’s the type to read to them before bed, to help them learn how to read and write and help them with homework when needed.

He’s very encouraging and supportive, always telling them to never give up on their dreams and to pick them back up when they get down. Dbedpline isn’t exactly his strong suit, but he’s serious when he needs to be, especially if the situation can lead to them getting hurt or into any sort of trouble. He wants to provide his kids with the best upbringing he can provide, and he’ll support you the whole way. 

Johnny Cade:

Johnny is so incredibly soft with his kids; his worst fear is ending up like his parents and treating them poorly, so when it comes to getting frustrated, he’ll   step back to make sure he doesn’t take it out on them in anyway. He does everything he can to make sure his kid has the childhood he never got, taking them out on trips, helping them when they need it, cuddling with them before bed…

He’ll hardly ever raise his voice, and when he does, he’s so incredibly apologetic afterwards. He’ll sit down and talk through the problem, his tone firm, and he makes sure your kid knows their behaviour was wrong and how they can correct it. Your guys’ kid adores him, and he loves that they know they can go straight to him for comfort.

Dallas Winston:

At first, Dallas wouldn’t be a good dad at all, especially not during the baby years. He doesn't like little kids, and he certainly doesn’t know how to raise one, but after you force him to stick around, he begrudgingly softens a little bit.

He doesn’t want his kid to end up like him, so he will do everything he can to guide them along the right path. He’ll be surprisingly soft, especially if they cuddle up with him, but when it comes to rules, it’s usually you upholding them. He’ll let them stay up past their bedtime, eat sweets before dinner, and throw the first punch in a fight, but he does mean well. He is incredibly protective, and if anyone even thinks about hurting his kid, he’s there in a heartbeat. It probably does him good knowing someone looks up to him and wants to follow in his footsteps—well, the ones that you’ll let them follow. 

Steve Randle:

Steve strives to be the cool dad who drives his kids everywhere in his cool car. He’ll take them to work with him, letting them help him in the garage. They’ll be pretty tough, and before they’re even 10, everyone knows not to mess with your guys’ children. 

He’s incredibly protective over them and hates seeing them upset or hurt. He’ll instantly jump to extremes, demanding to know who or what got them so worked up. He’s constantly goofing off with them, and sometimes you’ll have to reign him in a bit because he can act like a bit of a big kid. You all go on the best road trips.

Two-Bit Mathews:

You best believe your kid has the best sense of humour, and it’s all thanks to their dad. Two is like a big kid himself, so he has an unbreakable bond with your kid that consists of little inside jokes and downright silliness. Discipline and upholding rules are not his strong suit, and more often than not, he’s going against them instead of following them.

If your kid is ever upset, he’s fixing the issue real fast, asking them what's wrong and cuddling up with them, feeding them whatever snack they want until they feel better. However, if your kid ever needs serious advice, he’s giving it to them without hesitation, making sure they’re happy. 

[mangostarjam]

fuji you know that pic w sae in the all black suit yeahhh thinking about that and your pulling his belt loops thing AUGHHH IM GOING CRAZY okay i hope u have a good fridayyy yayay

CORAAA it's frying me SOOO BAD !!!

here's the suit. here's the original belt loops piece and now here you go! a tiny follow up! i hope you have a good friday too!!!

just think. you're trying so hard to be chill about it, but you gravitate towards him anyway, his own little moon.

sae doesn't react when you reach out and snag the belt loop of his pants, though it's a bit of a snug fit with the thin leather of his belt in the way. he just pauses. raises an eyebrow.

"careful," he says, and those sea glass eyes flash dark. "the cameras."

you flush and release him, but he puts a hand on the small of your back and steers you forward. it's a gentle touch — barely there — but the heat of his palm is searing and you nearly stumble at the threshold to the dinner party.

sae's palm presses firm into your back, keeping you upright. his lips tick up in the corner. "you wanted to come," he reminds you.

"i know!" you shift and take a deep breath. sae watches you and removes his hand. you're standing taller now, steadier. something like pride fills his bones as you fit into his space. as you slip into the role he needs from you at this dumb dinner party.

neither of you enjoy these things very much, but you've been doing this ever since he confessed (if it could even be called a confession) — stepping up, filling the missing pieces in his life, letting him back into yours.

you left your home country for him, and he never forgets that you chose him over everything. that you've always chosen him, once he gave you the option.

it sticks to the back of his mind as the dinner party progresses. nameless nobodies chatter and flirt and hunt for gossip, but sae keeps his eyes on you. his little moon, orbiting in his space, pulling him close like the tides. your finger in his belt loop any time he gets close enough.

it starts to get to him — the way you look at him. eyes raking his form, clearly appreciative. the smile that lights up your face when he meets your flustered gaze. the way you watch his fingers when he adjusts his suit jacket buttons, like you're imagining him unbuttoning... something else.

"cameras," he reminds you, tucking a smile into your hair. he's let you corner him near the bar, away from the crowds. "you're being a little obvious."

"sae."

"yes, my little troublemaker?"

you pout and he links his pinky finger with yours. it's a small gesture, but it makes you melt, and sae likes seeing you let down your guard.

"this suit is the real troublemaker, here," you mutter. "i need to give your stylist a piece of my mind."

"so do i," sae says. you tilt your head in confusion and he tugs you just a tiny bit closer. "putting you in this outfit was a mistake."

your face goes hot, and then you sneak a glance up at him that sends heat prickling down his spine. his slacks feel tight. if he had known that adding romance and sex to the foundation of your friendship would mean you'd be just as comfortable teasing him — well.

"what's wrong with it? will you show me?"

sae doesn't enjoy these parties, but — if he can get away with you to some hidden corner, if he can stuff his fingers into your wet, tight heat and listen to you gasp his name as you try not to leave marks in his suit jacket — well.

at least you can hold onto his belt loops, instead.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Christmas with Quinny?

"Hey! No peeking!"

"I...wasn't!" Quinn smirked, putting his hands behind his back after getting caught looking into the gift bags sitting on the coffee table. He had been getting antsy about opening gifts with you since he had gotten up. Sometimes he could be a big kid and during the holidays it was so much worse. Good thing he was cute, you always teased.

"You were, too!" You laughed, approaching him, two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in your hands. "Go ahead and open it, if you want! I'm ready."

Quinn would let you take a seat beside him before handing you a small box he had hidden beneath a blanket next to him. As soon as you saw the colour of the box you knew where it had come from. That trademark blue could only mean one thing: Tiffany's!

"Quinn, you didn't!" You didn't know what else to say!

"I may have. I hope it's okay."

Taking the box, you give Quinn a kiss as thanks before seeing just what was inside. "I'm sure you really outdid yourself! I didn't need anything like this!"

"Sure you did," he replied, taking a careful sip of the hot chocolate.

Inside, was a gold ring in a cursive script that read "love". It was dainty, classic, and so very touching. When had he had the time to get you such a gift, you had no idea but words could not express how much it meant to you.

"I love this so much!" You choked out, putting it on your middle finger. "Quinny, thank you so much!"

"You're welcome. I just wanted to get you something you could enjoy everyday." He was smiling like a kid whose mother had put his best artwork on the fridge. Things like jewelry wasn't his forte in buying, and he couldn't lie: he had help from the girls at Tiffany's in picking it out. His mom had actually suggested the famous jeweler when Quinn had confessed he didn't know what to get you. He had picked out some little things like a book or two, but in terms of the big, memorable, post-on-Instagram sort of gift, that's where he had struggled.

"Oh, I'll absolutely wear this everyday! I've never gotten anything from Tiffany's before!"

"Well, I'm glad I was able to get you something new." Quinn scooted closer, pulling your face to his. "Maybe I'll make a tradition of it?"

The kiss was long and passionate. Such a romantic Quinn had turned out to be and you loved being the center of his ever affection. His hands held you tightly, not letting you leave his side until he was for certain that he had expressed just how much he loved you. The ring truly had meaning.

"I have something for you, but not as nice as this, lemme go get it!"

Quinn slowly withdrew his hands, his fingertips trailing against your body as you got up. "If you have you."

"There's no need to pout! I'll be right back!" You headed to the hall closet where way in the back were two wrapped hockey sticks hidden as far back as you could get them. The had been a custom order to the specs of his on-ice sticks, but these had the Canucks colorway elements and a little message engraved where normally his name would go. You didn't care if he used them even once, but what hockey player couldn't use more sticks?

"How did you wrap those?" Quinn asked, arms outstretched to take them from you. "That's impressive!"

"Well, I think I used a whole roll of paper because it was not going well!"

Carefully, Quinn unwrapped the dual-packaged gift and smiled. It was like he had ordered them himself. Now, you had had some help; making a couple phone calls to teammates to snap a picture of his stick specs so you could get them just right. They had to be perfect!

"'Nobody puts my baby in the box!' You're too cute! Thanks, sweetheart." You had thought a long time about what you wanted to have put on the stick shaft. What better than what you always yelled when Quinn was sent to the "pretty boy box" as you affectionately called the penalty box.

"I thought it was pretty fitting," you giggled, excited that he hadn't found the message too cringe.

"They're perfect! Thanks, babe." His smile was so sweet, and his eyes sparkled within the twinkling of the Christmas tree. "I love you."

"I love you, too!" You pulled yourself into his lap. "Should we open the other stuff?"

"Later, right now I just want to enjoy you." Quinn buried his face in your neck as you laughed against the feeling of his facial hair against your skin. An hour would pass before you left the sofa, or maybe it was two... 

[allthemeniveloved]

Little Rat

Summary: Arthur Morgan saves you from an uncomfortable encounter with Micah.

-

The fire crackled low in the center of camp, casting flickering shadows against the trees surrounding Clemens Point. Most of the gang had turned in for the night, save for a few stragglers nursing drinks by the embers. You were tidying up your things near your tent, the quiet hum of the crickets offering a small sense of peace—until you heard the unmistakable drawl.

“Well, look who’s all alone in the dark,” Micah Bell said, stepping into your line of sight with that irritating smirk plastered across his face. His eyes glinted in the dim light, and you instantly felt your guard go up.

“Micah,” you said tersely, keeping your tone neutral. “What do you want?”

He feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest. “Now, that’s no way to greet someone, is it? Just tryin’ to be sociable, sweetheart. Seems like you could use the company.”

You shot him a cold glare. “I don’t need anything, least of all from you.”

Micah chuckled low, ignoring your clear discomfort as he took another step closer, his presence pressing in on you. “Now, now. Don’t be like that. I think you and me, we could get along real well if you’d just stop actin’ so high and mighty. Ain’t nobody else around, anyway. What’s the harm?”

You stepped back instinctively, your pulse quickening. “Back off, Micah,” you warned, trying to keep your voice steady.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he reached out, his hand gripping your arm as he leaned in closer. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. Don’t be like that. I don’t bite.”

Before you could push him away, a deep voice growled from the shadows. “Touch her again, Micah, and you won’t have a hand left to use.”

Both of you turned toward the source of the voice, and there he was—Arthur Morgan, standing at the edge of the firelight. His hat was pulled low, his jaw set tight, and his hand rested casually on the butt of his pistol.

Micah straightened, sneering. “Well, if it ain’t Arthur Morgan,” he spat. “You always gotta stick your nose where it don’t belong cowpoke?”

Arthur didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze locked on Micah with a look that could freeze the blood in your veins. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but it carried an unmistakable weight. “Ain’t no need to explain yourself, Micah. Just walk away.”

Micah raised his hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips, “I was only paying her a compliment, that’s all.”

“You keep your compliments - and yourself - far away from her, or you’ll be eating the dirt under my boots. Got it?”

Micah hesitated, his eyes darting between you and Arthur. He opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur’s hand moved slightly on his pistol, and that was enough to send Micah scowling back toward his tent with a muttered curse.

Once Micah disappeared into the darkness, Arthur turned to you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding. “I am now. Thank you.”

Arthur grunted, his hand falling away from his holster as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to get involved, but… couldn’t just stand there watchin’ him bother you like that.”

You offered a small, grateful smile. “I’m glad you did. He’s… persistent.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened again, and he glanced toward where Micah had gone. “He tries it again, you let me know,” he said, his tone sharp with barely restrained anger. “I’ll make sure he don’t forget his place.”

There was something in his gaze when he looked at you—something fierce and protective, but also hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he should let you see it. You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard by how much safer you felt just standing near him.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you said again, softer this time. “I mean it.”

He looked away, his cheeks tinged red beneath his scruffy beard. “Don’t gotta thank me,” he muttered, almost embarrassed. “Just… don’t like seein’ you get hurt, is all.”

As he started to walk away, you caught yourself staring after him, wondering why your heart felt a little lighter, even after what had just happened. Arthur, on the other hand, kept his back to you, his fists clenched as he cursed himself for not saying more—for not telling you the truth about why he couldn’t stand the thought of Micah or anyone else getting too close to you.

-

a/n: I’m feeling so unbelievably productive & creative this week and the thoughts are just flowing but I just know I’m going to crash this weekend or next week and not write again for another 7 years

[stilliwilllivehere]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

☆ Lance wants to quit racing Fernando wouldn't really care but for some reason when Lawrence asked for his help he feels the need to convince lance to stay. ☆

°*There’s only today ❀

Chapter one

“Fernando, Fernando you listening to me,” the words wake fernando up from his thoughts, It was Lawrence

“ Can you stay for some private words?” Lawrence looked at him from across the table though he was asked, there was no room to actually decide.

After the meeting was concluded and every one had cleared out Just the two of them stood on the balcony of the nice meeting room with the doors closed behind them Lawrence leaned against the railing, took a deep sigh and talked without ever looking directly at alonso, trying to hide from alonso some sort of shame but fernando could see it in the way he looked and stood he was seeping embarrassment fernando looked down to the busy street under the balcony to hide his smirk from lawrence

“ lance said he wont race” alonso looked up from the street so quick he almost got whiplash

“ what” alonso had expected something, well, else definitely not this. but was this it, had that no good bratty kid finally decided to do every one the favor and retire. Alonso couldn't believe it no wonder lawrence was ashamed his son who has the easiest career in formula one history was retiring for no reason other than being lazy and when the news got word of this the whole motorsports world would cheer in celebration, ok maybe not celebrate that's cruel even for alonso, it's not like he hates lance he was worried about a minute ago it's just he has a hard time appreciating lanc, yea thats the word, but nobody’s gonna miss lance, they'll all breath a sigh of relief when they hear the news even alonso.

Alonso doesnt realize hes smiling until he looks up to see lawrence giving him a knowing look

He quickly fixes his face

“I'm going to keep his and my conversation more private but he's upset again you know how he gets, but this time I really don't know what to say to him, i'm not sure if you're aware you have always been like a role model for him not that I'm saying you have to but please, talk to him, he really looks up to you I mean that kids the reason we had you signed, he basically begged me to sign you”

Fernando found that hard to believe. Lance didn't so much as spare him a glance nowadays no less treat him like an idol but Fernando just continued to stare at Lawrence Not answering hoping that would end Lawrence's speech sense pretty much got from the short exchange what he needed to. He needed to talk to lance, but for what he had no actual idea

Still Lawrence continued “ he never knows what he wants, but I do, I know what's best for him.”

*****

Walking back to his dressing room fernando was still trying to put together what lawrence was trying to get him to do

Lance was feeling down that much fernando new but refusing to race was a bit much, lawrence had informed him that he and his son had had a fight which ended in lance refusing to race in ‘his fathers shitty car’ as he had said it but if Lance didn't wanna race how was HE gonna convince him to race? especially if his own father couldn't get him to, it was just stupid that lawrence would ask him to even try but here he was at lance's room anyway, he knocked and waited, getting no reply he knocked again

“ey lance, you here” he tried calling out to him

no reply

strange

But he tried again, still to no aveil Fernando was about to leave when he heard some movement on the other side of the door. Then the door swings open and Lance stands there staring at him, neither says anything. And Fernando realizes that lance doesn't look too good. His hair is messy and unkempt, also plastered to the side of his head , he's wet with sweat sticking to his forehead making him look dirty and he has dark circles under his eyes.

“Im guessing my father send you” lance looks annoyed

“ yes he did “ fernando acts like he doesn't notice the change in lances deminer. Alonso tried his most very worried voice, and it wasnt that he didn't care about Lance and whatever he was going through but he didn't really know what was going on between him and his dad, he was just doing what Lawrence asked him to do.

“Your fathers very worried about you lace-

“Can you not do this please ” lance said dragging his hand over his face and letting out a deep sigh subsequently cutting Alonso off ( he's letting it go as lance usually doesn't act like this and he obviously going through something) lance moves over to allow fernando into his room fernando walks in and looks at lance continuing.

“ your father told me you do not want to race” Alonso made sure to keep his face unreadable

Lance is quiet just staring at the ground like a toddler getting scolded.

“ you want a faster car I know that but you still have to race bad car or not” fernando doesn't really know what he's saying but he's just gotta get lance to understand that sometimes things suck but there's nothing you can do about it, honestly lance should have learned that years ago but he's a rich kid so alonso learned not to expect much from him, no real empathy or grasps on reality, but that doesn't matter right now he's just gotta convince lance to race and forget about whatever it is that's bothering him.

Lance looks up from the ground glaring at fernando before answering a bit angrily

“did my father tell you that,” a pause fernando doesn't say anything, isn't this what it was about “I was upset with the car, mad I didn't get a fast car and threw a tantrum refusing to race” lance continues to stare at fernando and fernando stares back

Fernando feels a bit dumb but he doesn't let on,he had pieced together what Lawrence had said to him and that's what he had come up with. Was he wrong? had he just assumed it was the car because he himself thought the car was trash? If so, why else would Lance refuse to race? Fernando couldn't think of any other reason not with what Lawrence had told him at least.

”Look fernando I get it my dad probably told you to come say this to me but I don't really need this right now, if you could just go i'd really love that, and um you can tell my dad you inspired me or whatever just leave me alone before the race, yea? thanks”

Fernando was shocked as lance shuffled him out the doorway before blocking the entrance to his room

“ and tell him I'll race,” he said before closing the door in Fernandos face.

Fernando was left standing there like an idiot. He was worried and angry, but mostly upset because Lance just pushed him out of his room. They'd never been close but that was disrespectful and rude, which again wasn't something lance would do to fernando. Fernando began to worry

[good-vs-evo]

okay i understand the reason why ppl put ivantill and shiguang in the same box (doomed black and white yaoi) but oh my godddd the parallels between shiguang and mizisua make me so genuinely insane and i don't see. anyone talking about it in fact. if you have i'm sorry but i need to do this for my sanity

LOTS OF SPOILERS FOR BOTH LINK CLICK AND ALNST UTC! <3

starting with the fact that i don't think their personalities align perfectly or anything but just the way their relationships operate are Pretty Damn Similar

your ignorance is my bliss

let's start with mizisua for this one!

it's abundantly clear from the fact that mizi was actively looking forward to singing with sua on the stage that she had no idea what had to happen. she was a sheltered kid from the start and she had this innocence and naivety about her that, in my opinion, is part of the reason why sua was attracted to her. mizi essentially represented all of the happiness that everyone else could have if they weren't burdened by the knowledge and the fear of their looming deaths. and sua wanted her to stay that way, she wanted mizi to take a simple kind of joy in just being able to sing with the person she loved the most. because she thought that was right.

the thing that's the worst about this is that she made this decision on her own. she never let mizi decide if she wanted this knowledge, and just as ivan said, it ended up being a burden to mizi.

and now, for shiguang :>

when lu guang decides that he's going to dive back in time to save cheng xiaoshi, he also makes the decision to never let cxs know. his mantra is to never change the timeline, and he sticks to these morals throughout it all, never giving cxs so much as an inkling of what he'd done. to him, none of it mattered without cxs. he refused lose the one he cared most about without a fight, so he fought and fought and hid it all from cxs. second only to saving cxs himself, lg's most important mission was to make sure that cxs never ever found out the true nature of what he did. because the knowledge would kill him, knowing that cxs's life was the direct cause of someone else's life would kill cxs, and lg wanted to protect him from that.

insert quote about how lu guang liked cheng xiaoshi's naive nature. head in hands. goodnight.

2. my god, my universe

i guess this one is more of a minor thing on the part of shiguang, so let's start with them lol

technically speaking, there's no confirmation of what lg's true true thoughts about what cxs meant to him, but there is that one line from the live action opening that's "i don't wanna lose my world". combine that with, you know. All Of Lu Guang's Actions. and you can take a stab at the fact that cxs meant the world to him.

and of course the famous mizisua line(s).

i mean idk what to tell you. repeatedly throughout canon, they refer to each other as soulmates, each others' universes, their gods, saviors, etc etc the list stretches for the eternity that they could've spent together but they were robbed from. thanks. i don't need to say more AHDSHFJSF

3. the meaning of death

this one's obvious i supposed but let's talk about it anyways! first, mizisua

sua's death drives mizi forward. it changes all of her actions in the future, from her lashing out at luka to her full-on rebellion against the aliens, it's all because of sua. she doesn't have the power to bring sua back, so she does everything she can possibly do to make sure nobody ever loses anyone the way she lost sua. in her memory, in a way, for her.

and now shiguang

i mean the entire premise of the end of link click was that cxs's death drives lg's every action. he, unlike mizi, has the power to go back and fix the things that went wrong, so that's exactly what he does! and when he manages to save cxs, he intends to do everything in his power to keep him

i thought i had a lot more to say about this but i guess that's it? most of my thoughts were related to that first part. and the fact that they Liked Each Other HSUHFHSDF (i love ivantill i pinkie promise)

aaaanyways this was so dumb but i'm going to post it because i'm not a quitter and it'll be more embarrassing if i spent this much time writing this out only for it to rot in my drafts so BAM hope you enjoyed this!

[dustymeadows]

I should smooth out what the situation is between nightmare and his men

I don’t quite think its anything abusive, but you can’t put 4 mentally ill men in the same building and expect good situations to come from it you know. So its not exactly all needs are perfectly met either

This is all coloured by my personal idea Nightmare would not replace his men- its just generally inefficient and troublesome and honestly emotionally taxing. And terrible for loyalty. Nightmare went through so much shit himself feeling like second-best, expendable, like nobody would blink an eye if he was gone, and as much as he’d want to position himself like the people that hurt him in order to feel powerful I think the moment he felt like his brother (or how he believed his brother thought of him) he’d recoil like touching a hot stove.

Anyway my order of joining I think would be Killer, Dust, Horror, Cross (if applicable)

I like Killer being first because it means all of the shit NM had to figure out? He had to do with Killer. Creates a really complicated relationship thats closer than Nightmare’d like to admit. Killer’d get to see Nightmare go from someone floundering trying to pretend he knows how mortals work to sssort of having it more together by the time Dust is picked up. Killer doesn’t have a positive opinion of Nightmare but he still likes NM yknow? Out of everyone, Killer sees Nightmare the most falliable. The most “human”. Just as prone to faults in judgement as everyone else. Killer trusts Nightmare only as much as Nightmare will trust Killer. Which puts them into fun seesaws

Dust doesnt really give a shit? Dust is always kinda in his own world until things settle down more. Dislikes Nightmare but its as much as Dust dislikes everyone so. Has the most trouble adjusting to things but I also think him and Nightmares arrangement definitely involves NM telling him if the player returns to his world? So it lets Dust kinda start to explore his new… everything, without as MUCH of that constant weight. Which eventually becomes a general trust of nightmare even if it never grows past neutrality

Horror… horror is. Interesting. The first hurdle you have to jump is how the hell you convinced him to join NMs gang but that could be a whole other post. So putting a pin in that, Horror seemed like he adjusted the quickest but definitely was just putting up a front until everything eventually cracked and he had worlds worst crash-out. Horrors trust in nightmare (and dust and killer) was built by how that situation was handled- not that it was done perfectly but the fact Nightmare gave him proper space and accommodation without trying to force anything definitely. Like. Like in the moment it worsened the paranoia but in the long-run it made Horror feel way more secure in his place. He’s not too personally close with Nightmare but he has a pretty positive opinion despite it

Obviously theres a lot of rough edges but i think its important that Overall theres a level of security. Because it helps tie them together and give them an actual motivation to stick around if shit gets rough. If nightmare ever spiraled or seemed to make stupid decisions the three wouldn’t blindly follow, they’d turn around and try to figure out what was fucking him up. Because even if Nightmare believes its fear or deals that keeps them in line, its the security of the situation and the fact that Nightmare listens to them and values their perceptions of reality.

[underneathitalldeepdives]

Gwen's Lyrics: Late To Bloom & Sooner

A few weeks ago, Gwen's unreleased song "Sooner" was posted on YouTube for the first time. The song, written by Gwen, Shane McAnally, Busbee, and Amy Wadge, was added to BMI in 2019 and seemingly came out of sessions Gwen had with those writers in the spring of 2019. (Another song written during this time called "You Kissed Me Back To Life" was spotted on BMI the same day as "Sooner." We still have not heard that one.) 

Fans at the time immediately guessed what "Sooner" might be about - Gwen's wish that she had met Blake earlier in life. Gwen posted what would turn out to be a line from the chorus under a throwback photo of Blake in September 2019:

This was about a month after the song title was discovered on BMI by fans, but time passed and nothing ever came of it.

As we know, Gwen eventually released a new studio album, "Bouquet," which did not include "Sooner" but included another song with an extremely similar theme - "Late To Bloom."

Here are the lyrics to "Sooner" and "Late To Bloom" side by side:

When comparing the songs, the thing that sticks out to me is that "Sooner" seems a little more personal and raw. It has a sad tune, includes striking references to Blake's previous marriage and his late father, and is more reflecting on the time that was lost. It's interesting her honesty about wishing he wouldn't have loved anyone else before her.

If she'd released this song, the line about "all the years you had to fake it" would have definitely gotten people talking. My opinion of this line is that it means that Blake and Miranda, same as Gwen and Gavin, had a lot of ups and downs, but as a public couple they always had to put on the best face for people and not let anyone see the cracks that were there. They had to pretend things were great even when they weren't (which is why their divorce came as quite a shock to the public).

"She didn't even know she wasted you" seems like a sister line to "And only a stupid girl would let you go" in "Rare" — Gwen likely believes Miranda took him for granted and didn't appreciate him the way that she does. But she is envious of the time that Miranda got with him before they met, time that she believes was wasted with the wrong people who just hurt them.

In contrast, "Late To Bloom" has a peppy tune and is more optimistic. It has more generalized lyrics that don't reference anything too deep, but still has a personal touch, talking about them riding in Blake's truck and picking flowers. The lyrics show that she is enjoying the present and looking toward the future, rather than dwelling on the past with so much melancholy.

It's possible the difference in tone between the two songs is due to the fact that "Sooner" was written when Gwen and Blake had only been dating a little over 3 years (and thus were only 3.5 years past their divorces), while "Late To Bloom" was written when they'd been together more than 7 years and were now married. It could be that the more time Gwen has gotten with Blake, the less it stings that they met so late because they have continually filled their years together with valuable shared experiences.

Shane McAnally would say that working with Gwen during those spring 2019 sessions (which included writing "Sooner") and hearing about her relationship with Blake helped inspire him while writing "Nobody But You."

“I had worked with Gwen Stefani, just a few days before I went in to write this song,” McAnally said. “When I heard the melody, it made me think of Blake, and it sounded like a love song. I just said, ‘We should kind of write this with them in mind.’”

“One of the main things we talked about was her and Blake, and she just was telling me how happy they were and how glad they were they found each other at this part of their life and they're just truly in love,” he says.

I notice in the lyrics of "Nobody But You," there is again the similar theme to "Sooner" about wasted time:

"All the wasted days, all the wasted nights/I blame it all on being young/Got no regrets, 'cause they got me here/But I don't wanna waste another one"

The longing to have found each other earlier is also expressed in Blake's 2021 wedding song, "We Can Reach the Stars," in the line - "We always said we wished we'd met long before we finally did."

Gwen again touches on this theme in a line of "Empty Vase" - "Why, why did it take so much time? You've always been the one I've been trying to find"

It's obvious that this thought has loomed large in Gwen's head over the years, how different things might be if she had been able to meet Blake earlier in life.

I wish she had released "Sooner" because it is a very honest and touching song, but listening to it actually made me feel a little depressed, too. It's just rather sad! I'm grateful there is a more cheerful and hopeful iteration in "Late To Bloom," showing a sunnier view of the theme of meeting your great love later in life.

[fictionalreads]

Hello do you think you could do this one the reader and Mike are married and she knew about Lockwood but Mike didn't believe her because of Rita, reason, and they had an argument he said something that he should never said and she got kidnapped while being months pregnant 😦😦😦😦

A/N: HIIIII!! I'm so sorry this took so long, I was out of town and then had to get back in the rhythm of things once I got back. Writing for Mike (where it's his story and he's not playing the role of narrator for the sake of Armando) was different. I included Rita but I just couldn't make her the reason he didn't believe reader, I just felt like she and the reader wouldn't have beef so that was changed but I tried to stick to the rest of your request. I hope you enjoy this! 🥰 Title from Forget How to Love by Meghan Trainor

I Know Your Words Shouldn't Hurt Me, But They Hurt Me

Fandom: Bad Boys Movie

Pairing: Mike Lowrey x reader

Warnings⚠️: Um... Relationship issues? canon typical violence even though its mostly talked around

You knew when you married Mike Lowrey that he was used to doing things alone, that moving as a unit didn’t come naturally to him. Sure he had Marcus and they were a well oiled machine, but it didn’t start that way and at the end of the day Marcus had a family that was his priority no matter how much he loved Mike.

But Mike was your priority, you’d go through hell for him.

He knew this, but after relying on himself for so long, he didn’t always come to you first. His initial reaction to anything was to internalize and figure out a solution, only coming to you after he failed on his own. You were used to it, but it didn’t make it less hurtful every time he did it.

You on the other hand, preferred talking it out with him. You liked to explain the issue to him, not looking for him to fix it, but rather to vent it out to someone you trusted, someone who would let you think through it all out loud, sometimes offering his own two cents. You usually were able to solve the issue on your own while talking it out, but having him as a sounding board made you feel less alone. Mike was good at listening to what you had to say.

Which is why you were so surprised when he was dismissive about your concerns.

“I’m telling you, something is off with Lockwood,” you insisted.

“The man is one of the best U.S. attorneys I’ve ever worked with. He’s part of the reason AMMO exists and has tried a lot of high profile criminals that nobody else would touch cause they were afraid of the blowback.”

You shrugged, having already thought of this too. “The best criminals hide in plain sight, gain your trust and make sure you’d never think of them.”

“This ain’t Scooby Doo, alright? This is the real world, let’s get back to reality please.” You knew he didn’t mean anything by it, not really, but it felt like a dig.

“You don’t believe me? You think I’m making it all up?” You were defensive, ready to 

“I never said you were making it up, I’m just not convinced. What proof do you have?” He placated.

He had you there. There was no concrete evidence, nothing specific that made you feel like Lockwood was hiding something, but you just knew he was.

“I don’t have any, it’s just a gut feeling. Intuition or whatever you want to call it.”

“Intuition? You want me to investigate a man who will probably be the next mayor of Miami cause you feel something?”

He was being dismissive at best, belittling at worst. It irked you, especially because you knew he had done exactly that for others before. So why not for his wife?

“Would you do it if it was Rita?” It was a bit bitchy to ask, considering Rita had been nothing but kind to you despite being Mike’s ex. You had thought she’d be a point of contention for the two of you when you first started dating and you found out he worked with her all day, but it wasn’t. You weren’t using her now to pick a fight, just to prove a point. You knew if any of the AMMO team had come to him with the same amount of information you had, he’d chase every lead until there was nothing left.

“What?”

His surprise was warranted so you clarified, “would you look into it if Rita came to you and said she felt something off about Lockwood?” 

“Why are you bringing Rita into this?” His evasive answer made the hairs on your neck stand up. Why wouldn’t he answer the question? You were prepared for him to say yes and for you to point out the hypocrisy of his answer, but him refusing to answer? It put you on edge.

“Why are you ignoring the question?”

“I’m not.”

“Then answer the question. Yes or no?”

“Where is this coming from?” Another avoidance.

“Yes or no Mike?”

“Yes! Okay? Yes I would.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” He knew exactly what you were asking and honestly you were almost afraid of what this was leading to, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself, to diffuse and come back with a calmer head so you pushed some more.

“Why would you do it for her and not me?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Is it because she’s a cop?”

“Y/N,”

“Or because you’ve known her longer?”

“Y/N,”

“Is it because she’s dating him and therefore closer to him?”

“Because I trust her!”

And wasn’t that a slap in the face.

“And you don’t trust me?” You whispered.

“Y/N,”

“What are we even doing if you don’t trust me Mike? What was the point in exchanging vows and being together if you can’t trust me?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You still said it.” Mike was at a loss for words, staring at you, hoping you’d understand but you couldn’t. The man you loved just told you he didn’t trust you. You had never felt so unmoored in your life. Everything about your relationship had just shifted in your view. “I’m gonna go stay in the guest room for the night,” you managed before turning away from him.

That had been the last time you saw him before he became a wanted man and you were kidnapped by McGrath. What you wouldn’t give to go back to that night and talk it all out instead of allowing hurt feelings to run the conversation. Now you could be killed before you got the chance to fix things.

You had faith in your husband’s abilities but McGrath held you and Marcus at gunpoint, blocking Mike’s view of himself.

“What you don’t know is one of ‘em can’t die.”

What the hell? Since when did one of you become immortal? What the hell was he doing? You missed his and Marcus’ exchange because you were so confused by the first statement, only jolted out of your thinking by the gun going off. Mike had shot Marcus to get him down and then shot McGrath. It was over, and Mike was running to you.

“I trust you, and I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before,” were the first words out of his mouth. He cut your restraints, pulling you into his embrace.

Too high off the adrenaline of the past day, you couldn’t have a real conversation about it with him so you let him know it was okay with a joke. “Bet you’ll never doubt my intuition again.”

He laughed and went to say something when you both heard Judy over the comms saying she’d found Armando. He looked at you in a panic, clearly not wanting to leave you but needing to get to Armando. “Go, I’ll check over Marcus and get us back to the team.” He didn’t waste another second, running to find his son.

It was later when you were escorted to an ambulance that you saw him again, rushing to get to you.

“Everything alright?”

The medic looked at you for permission to speak. “It’s okay he’s my husband.”

The medic nodded, answering his question with, “Its just a precaution sir. We just want to make sure there’s no hidden wounds that are being masked by the adrenaline.”

You were helped onto the back of the ambulance and the medic began her examination, checking your head for wounds and asking if you were hit at any point, blacked out or fell into something hard. You answered in the negative, stating you were pushed around a bit but not hit or thrown into anything. Any falling was the result of trying not to get hit by a bullet or the chopped that crashed. When it seemed she was about done with her examination you spoke up.

“Is it possible to do an ultrasound?”

“Ultrasound?” “Of course.” Mike and the medic spoke at the same time.

You reached out to grab Mike’s hand, tears in your eyes. “Yeah, an ultrasound.” Mike looked dumbfounded and you continued to look at him even as you spoke to the medic, “My OB said I was about nine weeks.”

The medic noted the information and readied the ultrasound. Before long the sound of your baby’s heartbeat filled the air and the fear you’d been holding back burst through you in the form of relief. Uncontrollable sobs wracked your body knowing you had managed to keep your baby safe. Mike held you closely, trying to calm your breathing.

You knew the two of you had some tough conversations in your future but right now all that mattered was that your little family was safe.

[ghosthoard]

PART 7

parts 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

After everybody but Time and Twilight had washed, the gruel was steaming and ready. 

All Legend can attest to was that it was warm. Watery, bland, and barely really food, but warm. 

“Come eat,” he said to the camp at large, tapping the ladle against the side of the pot because he guessed that’s just what people did. Wild would do it.

The youngest first, Time had insisted when they first became a group, not yet family. Wind had had a tantrum at that. Like being called young was a grave insult (Legend still remembered when he was that age, he probably wouldn’t take being treated like a kid well either). But once he ate a spoonful of Wild’s cooking, Wind hoarded that youngest privilege and bragged about it to everyone’s face like the brat he was. Since he was the first to get his food, he was also usually the first to get seconds which he could never finish and usually passed off to one of the others.

The kid came up to Legend, silent and gloomy and not as annoying as he should be. His eyes were still red.

He filled Wind’s bowl up to the brim. Youngest first. Then as he was passing it back and before he could say anything in an embarrassing attempt to comfort him, the sailor looked down at his food and said, 

“Ew.”

A laugh almost startled out of Legend, that one word settling his worries more than anything else could’ve. He smirked, genuinely delighted. “Alright, you cheeky little snot. No seconds for you.”

Wind left with his tongue sticking out. 

Four was next. The other night when he left the camp for privacy after tasting his pilaf, Legend wondered why he wouldn’t just split. He knew the four of them probably needed some time apart, it would personally drive him nuts trying to grieve while stuck with three other people.

Legend still remembers when he first met the colors. Seeing confirmation for the first time that the earliest of his nightmares was the young man he had unwillingly grown to care for like a brother had him falling into bad habits. He lashed out and threw insults and sulked and avoided Four as much as possible. It came to the point that Time told him to get it together. 

Four had found him trying to “get it together” on the roof of their inn that night. The fresh air and being away from the others for a bit was what had drawn him to the place, but of course his brothers couldn’t leave well enough alone. He heard Four carefully walk over to him and settle next to him. 

The quiet was a deceptive peace. And sure enough the little asshole broke it by saying, “You’re really easy to read, you know.”

Legend groaned, rubbing at his face and curling up. Maybe if he ran now he could escape this talk forever, live without his brothers reading him for filth for the rest of his short, miserable life. 

He could hear the grin in Four’s voice as he continued, “But maybe it’s just because I know Blue too well. You two are alike. Too cool to care, right? ‘Nobody will see how scared I am if they’re too busy being angry at me’, is the go-to strategy right?”

“Which one of you is talking right now?” Legend said from his huddle, “I’ll make sure to remember for the next time you split.”

Four laughed, bright and in the way Legend knew the smith’s nose was crinkling. “I’m just me right now. I only ever really hear the colors separately when they disagree on something or I’m emotionally compromised.”

“So that just means I can hit you now and be done with it.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Four challenged.

Legend chuckled, untensing, letting the quiet settle more comfortably around them.

Eventually, Four spoke up again, carefully neutral, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t split around you, I know it’s strange.”

Legend straightened quickly, snapping around to look at the smith, “No! No, that’s— that’s not the problem. It’s a cool bit of magic.”

Now face to face with his brother, Legend managed to catch the sad heaviness of Four’s face before he hid it with a cocky, self-satisfied tilt of his head. “Told you the Four Sword is impressive.” 

But Legend wasn’t having it, “Four, I mean it, don’t keep yourself from splitting because you think I’m uncomfortable. I’d like to know the colors better.”

For a moment, the two just looked at each other on that rooftop during a warm, summer night. Four seemed to be searching for something in Legend with that discerning gaze that made everyone rely on the small hero in one way or another, and Legend hoped he was making it easy for him to find it without having to come out and tell Four the truth of exactly why he was so bothered by finding out about the Four Swords magic. 

In the end, Four smiled wide, proving once again that having the hero’s spirit meant you were a menace when he said, “Aw, Hyrule’s right, you are a sap.”

And for that Legend had to jump him. Four kept laughing even when they both fell off the roof and into the hay down below.

To this day, Legend wondered if Four didn’t take him for his word, because the smith didn’t split even once since that first reveal, and god would he hate being the one keeping them all from spending time with their brothers.

“You sure you don’t want to split?” Legend said as he passed Four his food.

Four huffed and lifted an eyebrow. “So I have to experience your cooking four times? No thanks.”

Seems like his brothers wanted to fight today, huh? 

Legend pointed the ladle at him threateningly. “Watch it, or I’ll spit in your food enough for all four of you.”

“Can’t ruin something that’s already ruined,” Four said before hurrying out of spit range with his food.

Legend huffed, turning to the next person in line. 

It was Hyrule, still refusing to look at or acknowledge him.

The magical exhaustion seemed to be mostly gone now, Legend noted in his cursory appraisal. 

While he had been fighting with the porridge, Sky had forced Hyrule to take a green potion, and to Legend’s absolute shock, had even gotten the stubborn traveler to take two extra green potions to keep in his bag. He honestly hadn’t believed his eyes and almost let the porridge burn. What sort of magic had Sky used to convince Hyrule to accept two extra green potions after already taking one?! Din, if he only had Twilight’s dog ears he could’ve heard what they were saying, but now he’d have to try to get it out of Sky and the fluffy bastard would probably smile and play dumb.

Nobody could tell Sky no, while Legend seemed to only manage to make them more guarded. 

When handed his portion, Hyrule still managed a grouchy, “Thanks,” before running away, because Twilight had taught them all manners. 

“Thanks for cooking, vet,” Sky said when he came up with his bowl. 

Legend scanned him from the top of his head where his hair looked duller, his face gaunt, to his boots. More than exhaustion dragged at his brother’s body, he seemed on edge and ready to collapse. Looks like the wash didn’t really help with anything to Legend’s distaste.

Sky had been cursed with the possession of Wild’s cloak just as Legend had been with the slate. He recalled how while the group were arguing about whether or not they should be spending time fighting to open the portal or if they should go on foot to the Yiga’s main base, Sky said nothing. He did nothing but clutch Wild’s cloak in his hands, staring at the hatefully small portal. 

Cleaning up Wild with Warriors was something Legend had needed to do. To care for the dead just as he did when they lived. To make sure Wild was as comfortable as he could be. He couldn’t do anything about the sickly splotches of too big bruises and the frailness of starvation, but he could wipe the blood away, dress him in comfortable, warm clothes as Warriors worked on the mats and tangles in Wild’s hair just as carefully as he would’ve if he were still alive. 

If Legend had any say, Wild would be buried with all kinds of food with the best quality clothes and armor they could dress him in. But who’s to say what they do for their dead in Wild’s era. 

After they had stepped away from Wild, Sky had laid a kiss on Wild’s forehead then covered him with that same cloak. Laid him to rest. 

Sky’s been worse since he’s done that, but it’s not like cleaning Wild up had made Legend better either.

“Yea, yea,” he muttered as he poured Sky’s share and handed it over, “you won’t be thanking me when you taste it.”

Sky just smiled at him and left to go sit. 

Time at the very least was moving again. 

Taking his armor off always made him smaller, but he still managed to seem so big anyway in other ways, sturdy, larger than life.

When he first met Time, a small, young, basically buried part of Legend had peeked its head out at the nostalgic feeling of an older, father figure, and before he could do anything about it, that small part of him was warily but hopefully calling for "uncle."

But right now, Time wasn’t larger than life. He looked older than he ever did, the lines on his face deeper and heavier.

Adults weren't supposed to look that fragile. His adult only ever looked that fragile once.

Legend would never admit it, but seeing how defeated the old man looked while he sat vigil next to Wild had terrified him. Just as the wolf that refused to move from Wild’s side was still terrifying. 

He didn’t know what they would do if they lost Time and Twilight too. What did he need to do to help them? What was he supposed to say? He didn't know, and it was driving him crazy.

A warm, large hand reached out to squeeze his shoulder, solid and comforting and there. 

“Thank you, Legend,” Time said, actually looking at him, actually seeing him. 

Emotion swelled up, catching Legend off guard, and he quickly ducked his head to hide behind his bangs, wiping his eyes and composing himself.

Time gave him one last squeeze —it felt like a promise, a promise to be present, to be constant, to do his best— before leaving with his food. 

Warriors came up last, thinking he had subtly let everyone else get their share first.

“You didn’t burn it?” Warriors said with a stupidly fake shocked expression, a stupid hand over his stupid chest. “A blessing from the goddesses themselves?”

“I hope it’s stone cold just for you,” Legend scowled, being careful not to spill this idiot’s share.

Neither of them mentioned Legend’s red eyes or watery voice. Neither of them mentioned the bags under Warriors's eyes and the paleness to his skin.

Twilight doesn’t come up for his share. 

Legend inspected the remaining gruel. There wasn’t enough for seconds, but there was just enough for three more bowls. Enough for all nine of them. 

Legend served himself, leaving two servings, then settled himself beside Hyrule. 

There was silence while they ate.

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@jenniferchaulam @originsofevil @links-in-time @homewardwander @gothroughthelookingglass @seaotter-17 @alicewritingstories @silvrash-797 @niffty24

(tagged everyone since it's been awhile!)

what should i name this fic? I've titled it dead wild in my google doc but i feel like that's a bit too spot on. Let me know if you guys have any ideas!

(dare I ask? would anybody like another part?)