#it’s not like I’m complaining I’m just curious

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog w/ jeong yunho

you live in a shitty apartment in a shitty neighbourhood surrounded by shitty neighbours who seem to make it their life’s work to make your life a living hell

the guy that lives across from you is an aspiring dj, emphasis on aspiring

unfortunately with him working the late shift at his supermarket job, it means he likes to practice late into the night

after the first 5 noice complaints, you just gave up trying to get a decent night sleep; part of you thinks he carried on just as one giant ‘fuck you’

the family that live upstairs aren’t great either

the son—timmy? tommy? who cares—thinks it’s fun to sit on the stairs with his buddies and smoke anything they can get their hands on

your air freshener is the only thing keeping you from losing your mind at them! well, that and the fact that quite frankly him and his friends terrify you

they watch you carefully as you make your way down the stairs, pushing through their congregation with a tight lipped, overly polite smile on your face

usually they don’t say a word, giving you little more acknowledgment than a hum as you thank them for barely making enough room for you to push through them

they make you nervous, you can’t deny that, and half of you thinks that’s the whole point

it’s like it’s some sort of strange power play to keep you from complaining to his parents, or worse, the landlord

not exactly a threat, but not not one

maybe it’s those nerves that made you open up to your friend one day

you’d met up with him at a local cafe, offering to pay for his coffee if he gave you half of the sandwich he’d brought with him

“they just spook me a little, y’know?” you mumble as a few crumbs topple over your bottom lip and onto your chin, “it’s a group of 10 over-grown teenage boys; it’s fucking intimidating!”

mingi just nods along, a small frown on his face as he listens to you complain about your living conditions for what seems like the millionth time

he gets it; moving is expensive, especially in the city, and you need to stay relatively close to where you work since you don’t have a car

it doesn’t mean he has to like it, though

“what about a guar—”

“a guard dog?” you cut him off, “mingi, we’ve had this conversation so many times before!”

it’s the truth; it seems like every single time you see him he brings up the same suggestion; scary dog privileges can get you very far in life according to you friend

“too mentally ill to look after another life, sure,” he reiterates the same point you make every single time, “but what about a hybrid?”

again, it feels like you’re in a constant loop of deja vu, destined to relive this conversation over and over again until you can finally afford to move out of that shit hole

“i can’t aff—”

“—afford a hybrid, yeah i know,” you roll your eyes as he finishes your sentence; jesus, he’s annoying, “but what if i told you i knew a guy?”

it sounds suspicious, but you won’t lie and say you’re not a little curious

perhaps you’re just a little too nosy to not lean in a little closer with a brow cocked a question of ‘who?’ primed on your tongue

“can’t say,” is all mingi says, “he doesn’t like people poking around in his business.”

he says it so nonchalantly as if he’s not your best friend who’s just announced that he knows someone who is almost definitely into some dodgy shit

you’d be a bad friend if you didn’t ask at least a few questions, but before you can even open your mouth, mingi beats you to it

“£200 will get you a hybrid though,” you almost choke on the sandwich at the price; this is some seriously dodgy guy if he’s selling hybrids for that little, “£300 if you start laying down preferences.”

“mingi,” you begin, about to beg him to get out of whatever business he’s getting himself involved in

“i’m assuming it’s a no?” he raises an eyebrow; you don’t even have to nod for him to understand your answer

he concedes, throwing his hands up in surrender like he always does whenever you have this conversation

still, the smirk on his face as the conversation moves onto something else doesn’t fill you with the upmost confidence

a week passes by rather quickly; you work, you come home, you go about your evenings as normal, you sleep

nothing seems any different, and why would it? nothing about your life ever really changes without some sort of built up or expectation

and then your doorbell rings

you assume it’s just your neighbour again, around at yours to ask you some sort of stupid question that could easy be solved using a single braincell and google

you trudge to the door with a sour look on your face and a bitterness already growing on your tongue, just to swing it open to see… not your neighbour

not anyone you recognise for that matter

your gaze travels up from the chest you stand eye-to-eye with, traipsing lazily over the defined muscles on his neck before reaching his face

a jaw set in stone, two steely brown eyes and a pair of jet black dog ears are what immediately catch your attention

that and the fact that he’s very handsome; so much so that it takes everything in you not to stare at him with your mouth wide open

“are you going to let me in?” he says as if the hybrid’s arrival at your door was at all expected by you

“who are you?” is the only response you can

“your guard dog,” he replies, and just like that everything clicks into place

mingi, that bastard

“but i didn’t pay for a guard dog,” you argue, hoping that it’ll be enough to make him go back to whatever creep it is that mingi has gotten involved with

“well, someone did.”

he looks bored as he uses a hand to push you aside and steps past you into your tiny apartment, as if this is just another day for him

maybe it is; you don’t know much about hybrids, but you’ve heard enough stories to know just how many of them go through life without a permanent home

they’re tossed from pillar to post as if they’re not conscious beings with minds and lives of their own

it’s sad, the fact that they can be so easily tossed aside by so many people

it’s even sadder to find yourself relating to that feeling

you shut the door, twisting the lock with a finality that you’re not sure you understand

“what’s your name?” you ask as you turn to face him

“yunho,” he sighs

it’s a pretty name, you think to yourself

one that you wouldn’t mind saying over and over again for the… foreseeable future…

seriously, fuck song mingi

“well i’m—”

“i know your name, puppy,” your mouth snaps shut at the authority that laces itself into his words, “it’s all i’ve heard for the past few days.”

you zip your mouth shut, something in your brain warning you not to speak out of turn

something in your brain seems to forget that this is your own home; surely you can speak whenever you want to

“i wasn’t sure what to expect, but you seem to fit the bill,” dark pupils land on your body, dancing up and down your form before finally meeting your eyes, “a pretty thing like you in a town like this? i’m shocked you’re still in one piece.”

“how dare you, i—”

“where am i sleeping?” he cuts you off like your complaints are little more than the stubborn words of a child

it irritates you to no end, and yet you can’t find the words to fight back

there’s just something in his eyes that has you convinced that maybe you’re not the one in charge here

“the couch,” you point to the ratty leather thing, feeling a slight twinge of guilt that it’s the only thing you have to offer

he takes a glance at at for just a second or two before shaking his head

“no,” he replies, “you have a double bed, right?”

“a double—” your eyes go wide, “you’re not sleeping in my bed!”

“yes, i am,” he insists, condescending and annoying. you hate him already, “because i’m certainly not sleeping on that thing, puppy.”

it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s yet to use your name, instead sticking to that godforsaken nickname

if you thought it would make a difference, you might say something about it, but the stubborn arsehole has already shown enough of himself to make you understand that it would do very little

“the floor is available,” you spit, venemously

“and yet it tempts me even less than the sofa,” he smiles sarcastically and it boils your blood, “you’re just gonna have to get used to sharing.”

he takes a few paces forward until you’re having to crane your neck to look him in the eyes

you can practically feel his breath dancing across your cheeks as he lets out a low chuckle, a darkness washing over his face as he studies you

“you’re gonna have to get used to a lot of things now that i’m here,” warmth spreads across your cheek as his palm moves to cup it, “but that’s okay puppy, i can be patient while you learn.”

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[dixons-sunshine]

Good Job! | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When out gathering supplies with Daryl, he successfully catches your dinner. To show him how proud you were, you bestowed him the highest honour you could at that moment—a sticker.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison.

Warnings: Animal death.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/N: Inspired by a post I saw by @darylsdelts. I hope y’all like this!

The sun was shining brightly in the sky. Birds were chirping merrily from their sanctuary in the trees and the air just felt fresher than usual. If it were the old world, you would have spent the day lounging next to some body of water, a cold beverage in your hand as you soaked up the vitamin D the sun provided.

But it was not the old world. Instead of spending the day relaxing or something along those lines, you were instead trudging through the woods in clothes too long to be worn in such intense heat, wearing shoes so heavy you were seriously amazed that people wore them simply because they wanted to before the dead started walking, lugging a duffle bag full of supplies and deadly rifle along with you—a weapon you never would have thought you would be able to handle with the immense skill you now possessed.

Despite all those nuances that, under normal circumstances, would have had you complaining, you could not find it in yourself to do so, because it was not normal circumstances. The harshness of the world run by the dead had toughened your resolve and made you realize that some discomforts definitely were not as bad as you once thought them to be. Sure, you absolutely despised having to eat worms when the situation called for it, but you held your tongue because it was certainly better than the alternative, which was to starve.

Very rarely did you complain about anything nowadays—well, that is, if you did not count in the amount of times you had complained about Glenn’s snoring before, but that was all more in good fun. And a good chunk of what you knew to survive in a world like this was all thanks to the man you were trailing behind; your partner, Daryl Dixon.

As if somehow sensing that you had been thinking of him, Daryl glanced over his shoulder at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a softness reserved only for you.

“You alright back there?” he called back to you, despite already knowing what the answer would be. You were not the type of person to complain much about anything, and that was an attribute about you that he loved.

You nodded your head and adjusted the rifle’s strap over your shoulder. “I’m fine, Dar,” you assured him, sending him a radiant smile.

He nodded his head and turned his attention back in front of him. He kept his crossbow trained in front of him as his eyes searched for any dangers that could be lurking in the shadows, be it a walker, a wild animal, or another person. His main mission was to get the two of you to his bike that had been left abandoned for the time being, as the two of you had been forced to go on foot to the cabin Michonne had come across whilst on her search for the Governor.

The cabin—which had been in pretty decent shape despite being abandoned—had been stocked with supplies. You and Daryl, along with some other people, would have to go back in the morning to get the rest of the supplies. The two of you had stumbled across a metaphorical gold mine.

“So, Daryl,” you began, deeming it safe to strike up a conversation when the man in question grunted in acknowledgement. “What’s your favourite bird?”

The unexpectedness of the question made Daryl chuckle. He shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his eyes trained forward. “I don’ know. Maybe a bluejay?”

You nodded in approval at his choice, although he could not see you do so. “Great choice.”

Daryl hummed, glancing back at you. “Why’d ya ask?” he inquired. However, his attention got diverted when he heard something in the distance, his senses jumping to high alert.

“Just curious, is all.” You transferred the duffle bag from your one hand into the other, nearly sighing in relief when the blood began circulating through it again. “What—”

“Shh,” he shushed you quietly, instantly shutting you up. He motioned for you to stay put as he quietly stalked towards the bush where the source of the noise was, his crossbow raised and ready to be fired at a moment’s notice.

The perpetrator quickly got revealed in the form of a raccoon when Daryl pulled the leaves back. It hissed up at the archer, but it quickly got silenced when one of Daryl’s bolts pierced through its body. The pained whimper it let out right before it died made your heart ache a bit, but you quickly reminded yourself that it was necessary. It meant that there was the slightest bit more nutrition to bring back to the prison. Its death would not be in vain.

Daryl picked up his bolt, the raccoon’s body sat on it, before turning back to you. He simply raised the arrow a bit, shrugging a bit as he looked at you.

“Got us our dinner,” he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing to say.

You laughed lightly at him, shaking your head. However, it was as if a lightbulb went of in your head. Placing the duffle bag on the ground, you leaned down and zipped it open before rummaging through multiple cans of food and other supplies, in search of something you had bagged for little Judith to play with.

“Ah-ha!” you exclaimed victoriously when you found it, taking it out of the bag to reveal a small sticker book. You stepped towards your partner while flipping through the pages, searching for the sticker you had spotted when you had initially looked through it the first time.

You found it after a few moments. You gently peeled the sticker off of the page and pressed it against the archer’s beloved vest, the bright, neon-like yellow ‘good job!’ standing out against the gray leather. You smiled and gently patted his chest, before taking a step back.

“Good job,” you repeated the words on the sticker, giggling to yourself.

Daryl rolled his eyes at you, but he could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks,” he drawled sarcastically, trying not to laugh at the silliness of the situation. “S’much appreciated.”

“Oh, come on. I know you love it,” you told him through your small fits of laughter, your eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.

Daryl simply shook his head. “You’re ridiculous, ya know that?” Despite his words, he could not help the warmth that bloomed in his chest. He felt oddly touched by the small gesture, felt appreciated. He could not explain it.

You laughed and picked up the bag again, before beginning to walk again. “Yeah, but you love that about me.”

Among a lot of other things, Daryl thought to himself. However, he shook the thought from his mind and caught up with you, this time falling into step beside you rather than being in the lead.

As the two of you walked the remaining short distance to Daryl’s bike, with you striking up another conversation, Daryl simply admired you. He felt like the luckiest man alive for being able to say that you were his girl.

And if he got teased by the members of his found family for the sticker that remained on his vest for the rest of that day, he could not have cared less.

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @thevegandarkelf (comment/DM/inbox me to be added/removed!)

[qoldenskies]

You’ve mentioned it a few times but I’m actually really curious as to April’s reaction toward them shit-talking Donnie? Particularly the first time, but in general, too, because the only thing resembling that is her pressing the boys about Donnie not acting off unless something is wrong. We (obviously) only really see the curse from Donnie’s perspective, very occasionally one of the boys mention their perspective, but nothing from the outsiders! Splinter makes me curious too, but he only had his accidental gaslighting scene, so 🫠

the only indication that it was happening was that first phone call where she mentioned mikey saying some nasty things to her through text, and she was generally being very forgiving about it. "he was just venting" was probably something she attributed to MOST of their weird behavior about donnie, but i still think they held back around her at least a LITTLE because if it got too bad she would call it out. april wouldn't want to thought-police, and sometimes their complaints were more funny than they were harmful (oooh how she must regret laughing with them now, like donnie's undeniably who she's closest with out of the four but she doesn't take his shit so i could see her finding it funny and harmless... little does she know), but once they crossed a certain point she'd tell them they were just being vindictive and shitty. there's no way they haven't gone to her complaining about each other in the past, its inevitable that you're gonna have grievances when you live with someone and april's really the closest friend they've got, although she's not always up for putting up with it PFFT. i could also see her thinking they want advice, or giving solutions to their "problems" (because i think she'd find venting for the sake of it a little aggravating? very solution oriented person imo), and they straight up just lied to her and said they'd listen and then did nothing lmao.

really they all lead april and splinter on just like they did donnie, with all of their worst moves they planned around it and intentionally threw them off the trail. honestly when it came to things like that first phone call and the one on the rooftop, i could also see it as an intentional play to get april IN on it, although it didn't really. work lmfao, she could tell something was off, even if she didn't have reason to suspect the depth of it. i dont have reason to write from their POVs but they are both going through some shiiiit, they really got CONNED and they both feel so ashamed about it. they're doing what they can to rectify it now, but its causing a lot of self-doubt. i could see both of them being almost over-attentive after this is said and done. they both certainly feel like they were way too negligent.

[reyvenqueen114]

I got one question where tf was Smidge during Trolls band together? Huh 😂 first they got rid of Dj (because of the voice actor not being able or something like that)

Now smidge 😂

[theswedishpajas]

Magma art dump of random gay Stanley things (Featuring me! Go figure!)

Anything that isn’t in some kind of blue or yellow is by one of my friends

[diltonsstrangescience]

Guys help I think I’ve been transported to a parallel universe. The ponytail is on the wrong color hair.

Archie is blond now.

This is surreal.

[to-a-merrier-world]

as a chronic age gap ship enjoyer, i have to say, it’s kinda disappointing how little MarcoAce shippers engage with their age difference. Marco is 25 years older! He was a pirate before Ace was even born! He’s already in his 40s when he meets a teen Ace! And yet it’s so rare to see anyone engage with that, and even when they do, it’s so often just a throw away “I’m old” kinda line and is never given any weight or thought. It’s just so bizarre to me, cause other age gap ships I’ve liked that had a smaller gap than this (more like 10 yrs) engage a lot more with the age difference, but MarcoAce just… doesn’t. It’s so odd to me lol, and kinda a bummer cause i find half the fun of age gap ships is engaging with that age difference and the conflict it can cause (as well as the kinky aspects).

[valkyurii]

watching a video where radahn is fighting malenia and hitting her for like 3000 damage per hit while she’s doing a pathetic 300 and the crowd are going wild cheering on their favourite Chad Man only for malenia to still beat him 2/3 times is so funny. “but the rot–” literally doesn’t matter, at one point bro hit her with a true combo that took over half her health bar and he still managed to lose the fight.

[doggolol]

they showed tiara in the ed of ashk!

[deklo]

not to sound like an american…but do cities in europe have advertisement billboards…..

[seventh-district]

so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh

[amass0fvoices]

Just now realizing that my tftbl keychain has gotten jack and Rhys stuck together in the hatch

Not that I’m complaining, seeing as they are my two favorite characters

But it is kinda funny the position they’ve gotten stuck in

[age-of-moonknight]

Phases of the Moon Knight (Vol. 1/2024), #3.

Writers: Yuji Kaku, Justina Ireland, and Chris Giarrusso; Penciler and Inker: Daniel Bayliss; Colorist: Dee Cunniffe; Letterer: Cory Petit

[101flavoursofweird]

Kat showing kindness and empathy to other lonely orphaned kids.

[novelist-becca]

Can anyone think of a reason why my cat likes to hang out under the Christmas tree lights?