#not much but to b safe yknow

[mosspapi]

(tw discussion of self harm/wound care)

Took the gauze off this thing to change it and it immediately fuckin opened wide the fuck up again. Had to use butterfly bandages to get it to even stop fuckin bleeding. And my parents come home tmrw night. Chat am I cooked here (rhetorical. I am absolutely cooked)

[blankinsidecards]

so this year I’ve been kind of analyzing my relationship with gender, in no small part because of the fictional characters I’ve been obsessed with recently, which has lead me to start picking apart why and how I’ve collected the blorbos that I have. I’m thinking of making a chart.

[waloeders]

after work tomoz i need to finish editing my lil fic i wrote i got. distracted by trine 5 w friends,,

[ohbo-ohno]

I’m feral and need more of your a/b/o thoughts. Like I need to know your thoughts on alpha!141 snatching omega reader to keep for themselves

yknow i was gonna say that i haven't touched abo in forever, but then i remembered the gaz thing i just posted the other day lmao

(btw i wrote alpha 141 here but i think abo poly 141 would have alphas price/ghost and betas soap/gaz. probably. maybe. idfk.)

cw for noncon and kidnapping below the cut

i find poly 141 x reader really difficult to write outside of porn, since there's already so many interesting dynamics in regular poly 141. i have a hard time adding in a FIFTH element, yk? especially when that fifth element has to be a reader insert instead of some sorta OC or smth

anyway, i think the best dark poly 141 x reader idea is basically reader being used as a sex toy for the guys. like, she's there for them to relieve their stress in. but in an abo au i could totally see them using her as an element of softness in their lives. with 4 alphas in one home, you need an omega to soften things up a bit

and there you are. soft and sweet and small (compared to them at least) and just so perfect. you're the unlucky bastard who happens to smell appealing to all of them, and you're whisked away before you really even know it

they'd have to be sneaky, probably. you'd have a positive reaction to their scents too, so maybe johnny or gaz gets you to go on a date with one or both of them and then kidnaps you. maybe price or ghost just grabs you one day. something like that, i think, but there's much higher angst potential is kyle and/or johnny lulls you into a false sense of security first (and you know i love a good betrayal)

they'd push and prod at your instincts to force you into a heat before anything else. lock you in their den (soon to be their nest) and surround you in their scents, make low purrs to convince your instincts that you're safe

and as terrified as you are - and oh boy, are you - there's only so much you can actually fight your instincts. lets say you're either not on heat blockers, or maybe the blockers are weak, but for whatever reason you're very susceptible to all of their little pushes

they've got you knotted and mated by the end of the week

it's odd, coming up from that heat. your neck aches all the way around, to the point that it's painful to even turn your head. despite the unfamiliar room, your brain screams at you that you're safe, that you're in your nest.

it doesn't take long to put together the pieces. it also doesn't take long to become very very upset

thing is, it's too late to do anything now. you can't break a bond, and they're not giving you any opportunities to get away. you're stuck with these alphas who have performed the greatest invasion possible on your body and soul. it's crushing

cue lots of attempted comfort. soap and gaz would be the softest with you, always trying to tempt you into realizing how good it is to be with them. soap is rougher when he fucks you, but they're both equally soft outside of that. they bring you nesting materials, constantly make sure you're covered in their scents, and bicker over who gets to cuddle you on the couch

ghost isn't willing to coddle you. he's sweet (in his own right) but he's not nice. he doesn't try to make you feel better - you're meant to be with them, why should he apologize for making it happen? all they did was skip the courting process, this is always where you were going to end up. he refuses to apologize for that. but he also doesn't want you miserable. he holds you close at night, soaks with you for long hours in the tub, and is always making sure you clear your plate

price is... weird. i'm never sure if i should make him the meanest or a softer kidnapper. because i could absolutely see a version of price whipping your ass raw every time you scream at them and call them names, but i can also see a version of price who just levels you with a disapproving stare and locks you in a small dark space when you get like that

regardless, they all smother you. you help balance out their dynamics a bit more, but they're always fighting each other for your attention. especially with the bond making it so they always know what you're feeling. and your instincts scream to trust them (and you can feel their emotions too, know that they really meant for the best, as sick and twisted as it is).

[grecoromanyaoi]

like all things, forbidding minors from drinking doesnt actually. stop minors from drinking. it just makes them go drink behind their parents backs. and like isnt it better for a parent to be there to teach their child about how to safely drink n b there to support them n help them see how alcohol affects them n help them think thru whether or not they like that affect rather than have them experiment being drunk w other kids, w/o supervision, n usually in a less safe environment. like obv this doesnt apply to all households bc naturally a home isnt necessarily a safe environment but in general. if u had kids, would u rather let ur 14 y/o have a glass of wine at dinner when u/ppl u trust r there of have them get drunk w their friends on the beach and not tell u at all, even if they get hurt. bc these r p much the two options. like id rather the kids in my life b comfortable calling me at 2am like 'hey im rly drunk can u come pick me up' rather than have them find their way home intoxicated yknow.

[matchamiko]

aw shit here we go again with alpha itto thots 😔😮‍💨 he just doesn't Shut! Up! when he's working his knot into you – so much fatter this time since he's been away ): maybe he's late to your heat so you've had to suffer alone for a few days )): – but when he does i rly think you'd squirt all over it and on his cock so deep in your belly yknow?? and he puts his full weight on you so that he isn't forced out and just sinks deeper. idk 😮‍💨🤙

Warnings; knotting, a/b/o, scenting, referring to genitalia as she/her

He’s so chatty and whiny and loud no matter the occasion:(( so eager and dizzying and giving nd sweet even when he is belly to belly, heat to chest; arms caging your head, the front of his thighs framing the backs of yours, cock bullying deeper and thicker into you with every bed breaking pound of his hips.

he’s sooooooo gushy when it comes to working his knot into you…. “A little more baby, lemme in c’mon, I know she wants to let me in I can hear her milking me…” and just grunting and gruffing with the effort of fucking his fat cock deeper into your guts, talking about your cunt as if it’s trying its hardest to swallow him whole (＃＞＜)

wrapping himself up around you nd he’s so big so you’re engulfed and caged in and there’s no escaping your big alpha’s knot nd his creamy cum that sits heavy in your belly, nosing at your neck and licking your pulse, teeth scraping your mating bond so you squeeze him a little harder, milk him a little drier.

Big big sweaty heavy alpha purring deep in his chest when you wrap your legs around his waist and mewl back cause he’s so safe and heavy and grounding, plugging you up and dragging you down into his embrace (/▽＼*)｡o○♡.

[pumpkinsy0]

hcs of darry and soda catching curly at one of pony’s track competitions?

i actually havent talked about this in a while omg

•this nigga wasnt even INVITED to join em, however bc hes a student there hes allowed in🙄🙄

•secretly tho pony did tell curly he’d b happy if curly was there and curly kinda beat around the bush on if he was gonna show up or not

•so of course pony was happy to have darry and soda theres, but they couldnt help but notice that pony was looking in the crowd like he was looking for someone else, and then when he did find wahtever he was looking for, he looked to be even happier, hmmmmm🤔🤔

•and then they noticed the cheers for pony were louder than usual, they look around and LOOK WHO IT IS, thee guy ever, curly shepard

•they werent happy about it, however 1) they refuse to b kicked out the place bc of curly 2) curly IS allowed here after all he is a student so theres not much they CAN do bout that

•they were glaring curly for the way he was staring at pony, we all know u came to gawk at him man,,,ur not slick

•they did make SOME small talk tho, there was one guy on ponys team whos been annoying pony for a good while bc he would fuck up that stick pass over and over and curly mentioned it, darry and soda had no clue bout that guy

•when the race was over, curly MAGICALLY disappeared, and they thought nothing of it bc pony was right in front of them

•usually after ponys competitions they all go home so he can change first and then go out to eat, but pony said he had to “handle something first” whatever that meant, so they walked to the car to wait for pony

•however pony was taking too long and darry walked back onto the field and turns out the thing pony had to handle was pony talking to curly under those empty broken bleachers where nobody would walk over and kissing under em lmao, they didnt know darry saw but he did saw and yknow what??? he didnt say anything, pony and curly can have their sweet moments in darrys eyes so he wont stop em, for now

•he also didnt stop em bc those r the same bleachers darry would ALSO kiss someone under before one of his football games and he thinks its a funny full circle for pony to do the same, if he can experience having a high school sweetheart, who is he to rip that way from pony in this moment (they arent safe next time tho this is a one time feeling)

•he walked back to the car and said ponys on his way

[vrisrezis]

Comfort with atsv characters <3

Warnings?: reader is Latino/Latina, reader is a spider person, can you tell I wrote this at like 2 AM? (Spoilers for atsv). Is it obvious I don’t read the comics based off of hobie and pav? Also all the spiders are able to understand Spanish so 👍🏾 reader is hinted to be bisexual in Peter B’s (they also cannot have children), reader isn’t gendered but in Jessica’s they certainly are not a male,

Gwen is quiet, but you allow it. Miguel didn’t tell you much of what happened in Gwen’s dimension, but it clearly bothered her, whatever it was. It was just one of those very nights where she was bothered about her situation. She didn’t ever talk about it, rather she just sat in silence for awhile and then you’d make her some tea in hopes of easing any nerves or pain. She felt bad crashing at your place all the time like this, so much so she tried bothering hobie every once in awhile so that her staying at your home wasn’t as constant. You tried to remind her that this is what partners do, they look out for eachother when they need it the most. Staying at eachothers places when one of them is pretty much homeless is included in that.

Honestly though? Selfishly she enjoyed it. Maybe it was because she simply enjoyed your company, or because you were sweet enough to let her share a bed with you and she got to watch you sleep. She got to see all your features up close in your most peaceful moments. But of course, she missed her home. She missed her dad. She missed when things didn’t suck. She missed Peter too.

You’re both on the roof of your house. She’s thinking about things, deeply. She thinks about her life, her place in the world, She almost starts to cry, but she’s still holding back, holding back as much as she possibly can right now. It’s the first time you see her like this, and you feel relieved. You’re relieved because you know she’s been going through so much, but has been trying so hard to keep it inside.

“Mi amor, por favor, no reprimas tus sentimientos. Está bien llorar, somos tú y yo.” you say, putting your hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Not wanting to be too intimate in case she became uncomfortable in such a state. But you don’t have to worry as she grabs the hand on her shoulder and intertwines your fingers.

She finally allows her tears to flow. More then flow, they stream down like a ocean of tears. In the midst of it, she hugs you and you hug her back. Pulling her into your chest and she can’t help but feel safe in your arms.

“I’m so sorry.” she says in between sobs

“Don’t be. Te Amo. I will always be here for you, yknow? No need to hold back for me.”

Miles puts his head on your shoulder. He’s quiet, and unsure what he should say next. But you don’t say anything, and you decide he should be the one to speak first. He wraps his arms around your middle, and you change positions so his cheek is smushed on your chest now, your arms wrap around his waist. You could fall asleep like this, but you’re determined to stay up until miles tells you what’s on his mind. Even if you already know, he should let it out and talk about it. He always ends up telling you what’s bothering him, he’s practically an open book. At least in your mind, though you do suppose he is good at keeping secrets from others. Not the point though, you were there when it all transpired. You know what he’s upset about.

“How are we gonna get home?” miles finally asks, confirming your suspicions. He truly had no idea what he was doing, and what either of you were going to do. You’re both stuck in the wrong dimension with no way to get home. “How am I gonna save my dad?” he wonders aloud. You’re not sure yourself, you opt for one of your hands reaching for his back and rubbing his back in a circular motion as a means to comfort him.

“I don’t know.” you admit, but you continue before he could say anything, “but what I do know, is that you can do anything. Even the impossible. Eres el hombre más increíble que conozco. You’ll figure it out.”

miles shakily sighs, “I don’t know.” he says, so unsure of himself. “You don’t have to.” you say, “give yourself a moment. Recollect yourself. Cry if you need. Te protegeré.”

He truly doesn’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for him, continue to do for him. The support and love you’ve always given him, the advice you’ve given him, he knows there’s truly nobody quite like you.

There’s a moment of silence between you and hobie. While this wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence when the two of you just chilling out, this time felt very different. Instead of a rather calm and tired expression at this time of night he seemed so defeated, though that tiredness seemed more like exhaustion. And you come to the conclusion a canon event had to have happened for him to wear such a sad expression. It was only recently he had taken upon the role as spiderman in his dimension, or as everyone called him, spiderpunk. You know the whole spider thing is new to him, how stressful it can be to be on your own like this. You’ve been there too, and not that long ago. In your dimension you’ve only been a spider person for a couple months.

You stand up from your place on the couch, walking up to him. You want to feign surprise, not knowing what’s happening. But you know. And you know that he knows, as he always does. Spider people typically aren’t good at lying. “You know, dontcha.” he simple says, voice rather quiet for somebody like him. “Yeah.” you eventually say, “it happens to all of us.” you admit. “For Miguel it was his wife, his daughter. For Peter it was his uncle. For me it was my mother. This is just.. part of the course.” you say, as if it’s just something to shrug off. Hobie can’t help but feel sick to his stomach upon you doing that, cause it doesn’t feel like the you he knows. The you he knows wouldn’t stand for some… cycle, some faux destiny. It’s not like you to just give up and treat something like this as just… it.

But he’s too upset to press you about it, so he rests his forehead on your shoulder and no longer says any words. You wrap your arms around him in an embrace and he allows it. “I know you probably have a lot of questions.” you say, and he’s always taken aback at how you’re the only person he’s ever met that can read him like a book. Then again, spider people are not good liars.

“For now, what I’ll tell you is this.” you start, “you’re going to lose people. It’s going to happen if you continue this line of work. The hard lesson to learn about this job is that we can’t save everyone. At least, not alone.” you continue, “but together, we can.” you say, and upon these words he feels a bit more relieved that you hadn’t fallen down some algorithm. You haven’t given up nor are you falling in line with some dumbass rules Miguel has set up.

“I can’t exactly provide you the best advice.” you admit, “pero siempre estaré aquí apoyándote. Puedes contar con ello.” you say, and hobie smiles for the first time that day.

Pavitr has never been like this, but it’s to be expected. At least, in your mind.

He clutches you like a lifeline, and if it weren’t for your super amazing spider strength you think you’d be in a ton of pain right now with the way pav is holding onto you.

You’re not even the one that nearly died. Pav nearly lost his best friend, gayatri as well as her father who also seemed to mean a lot to him. You don’t know much about him and singhs relationship, but you know it’s rather complex. Pretty hard on Pav and his friendship with his daughter, assuming they have a romantic relationship or something along the line. But this very man seems to adore Spider-Man. So naturally, complicated. But didn’t change the fact he meant a lot to Pavitr. He almost lost him. He almost lost two important people in his life. And if he almost lost them, could he have lost you?

He tries to reason with himself, you’re strong and can handle yourself fine but what if…?

“¡Basta!” you say, and it’s the first time he’s ever heard you yell at him. Because of this it’s quick to snap him out of the daze he seemed to be in. He can’t help but let a few tears slip out. You put your hands on his cheeks, worry seeping through your eyes. “Odio cuando haces eso. No me va a pasar nada, cariño. Puedo protegerme así que no te atrevas a preocuparte por mí.”

You wipe away his tears with your thumbs. “Mi amor, we’re gonna be okay.”

Peter sighs, and from that moment you know somethings wrong. You’ve known this Peter in particular a long time, there’s something obviously weighing on him. It certainly helps you’ve gotten to know so many versions of him, so many peters and so many of them are horrible liars. He is no exception.

You can’t help but wonder if it’s MJ related, which tugs are your heartstrings a bit. But you understand him, he lost his love. His first love in fact, and he’s not willing to let her go. You understand. You remember your first love, Gwen. Just a pretty blonde in your science class, but you fell hard. And so did she. To her death, that is.

You sit next to him on the balcony, “wanna talk about it?” you offer, and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him. “I don’t know.” he admits, but as soon as he says that he feels himself leaning on you.

“Have you ever thought of becoming a parent?” he asks, and you can’t help but be surprised by his question.

Now it’s your turn to sigh. “Yeah, I suppose.” you shrug, “not that I’d be able to have one, but yeah.”

“Really?” he wonders, and you nod. “Both me and Gwen, at least in my dimension, were physically unable to have kids. The same went for me and my own Peter.” you shrug, “not that I was interested at the time though. It’s moreso a ‘what if I could’ situation.”

“I want a kid.” he admits.

“So did MJ, and she still wants a kid.”

You feel your heart sink for a moment, before deciding it was his time of need, not yours. You’re both far too old for shit like this. You’ll move on. Like you always do.

“I could give her what she wants.” he continues.

“But I don’t know if… I can? I guess?”

“What do you mean?” You inquire.

“It’s a lot of things. I mean, what if I’m a bad dad? What if I’m not there enough? And besides that point, even if I do go through with this, the kid would have to deal with having parents that aren’t even together.”

It takes a minute for you to process his words, especially the last part. “Wait… why wouldn’t you two be together?” he shrugs, “because she deserves better.” he says, but it doesn’t seem like the full truth. “And besides I wanna be with somebody else.”

He tries to be subtle with his next words, “they can’t have kids, so I think this is a next best option. At least, when I’m ready and they’re ready and we’ve been dating long enough where it wouldn’t be weird to ask.”

You can’t help but wonder if it’s you he’s talking about.

But for the time being, you ignore it and put an arm around his shoulder, “Pues deja de preocuparte. Serías un gran padre.”

he cracks a smile and thanks you.

Jessica is always well put together, it’s something you’ve always known about her. But there’s something off about her.

You think you know what’s up, but you know better than to think you know everything going on with Jess. She’s not exactly an open book, only is when she wants to be.

She kept a lot of her personal life away from you, as a means to protect you from that. Either that or she wanted her privacy, which you also understood.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to touch her stomach, admire it, the excitement of a new life was adorable in your eyes. But her relationship with her husband was something she never relayed to you, she never talked about him and if she ever did it was briefly. A part of you wondered if it was because she knew how you felt and wanted to spare you. A part of you hoped that was all it was, and that there was nothing else going on.

But you’d be wrong, as you often were.

She lets a few tears shed, and it’s the first time you’ve seen her cry.

“I don’t think I love him anymore.” she finally admits, and you have a feeling it’s the first time she’s admitted this to anyone, even herself.

“I don’t think I ever did.”

“I don’t even think I like men, period.”

And this puts you into a even bigger state of shock, woah.

“I think I just wanted a baby.” she continues, “and it didn’t matter who it was with as long as I got one.”

“I thought, it was because I loved him so much I wanted to start a family but…” she turns her head away from you, “I don’t think I ever felt a damn thing for him and I’m scared and I feel so guilty.”

All you can do is wrap a comforting arm around her,

“No pasa nada. Siempre estaré aquí Jessica, lo sabes. Podemos resolver las cosas juntos.”

she leans into you despite her mind telling her to pull away, don’t be soft, don’t give in.

But she does.

She gives in to her deepest desire.

She gives into you.

Miguel is never this clingy. Something is wrong, and you feel it. It’s not just his aura, it’s his body language. It’s the fact that his face is shoved into your stomach, desperate for you to not only not hear him at all, but not see him. You feel his sorrow, his shame, his guilt, his anguish. But most of all you feel his regret and his grief and you automatically know what’s wrong.

You run your fingers through his hair, something he normally hated but in times like these truly loved more than anything and it calmed him down so quickly. He still doesn’t know how you do it, honestly. You make him putty in his hands without even trying and honestly that terrified him. To be so weak, so soft, when it comes to you.

“Vamos, cariño.” you say, “let me see you.”

He’s not quick to comply, but he eventually does with enough head scratching. You sigh at how distraught he looks. You hate this, you really do. You hate seeing him upset, that one injury of yours could send him spiraling like this.

“No voy a morir tan fácilmente, sabes. Ten un poco de fe en mí, ¿quieres?”

“Lo sé.” he replies, shakily.

“I’m just scared of losing you too.”

You kiss the crown of his head, “I know. But trust me when I say a little injury is not going to kill me. I’ll be okay.” you try to reassure him.

He nods, but you have a feeling he doesn’t believe you.

Even after all these years, you don’t know how to help him.

[taximaximus]

Safe Haven Headcanons

Ft. Mostly Newt, some Thomas and Minho

TW: panic attacks, nausea, blood (all mentioned/never in depth)

(I'm sorry if any are similar to other posts!!)

- I imagine that all the Maze people (Gladers and group B) had amazing immune systems because they've been living/traveling in unsafe and dirty conditions for a hell of a long time, ie they built a tolerance. But after getting the Flare, Newt's is weakened for years. He gets sick more than most

- Which sucks bc sickness makes him nervous. Constantly checking his skin and arms, feeling the need to throw up even if he's not actually nauseous, and panic attacks at worst

- He tries to isolate himself because he knows how any illness sets Thomas on edge (and everyone else to some extent but not as much as Thomas). But Thomas will be damned if he ever leaves Newt's side until he's better

- In any cases of Newt being extremely ill, Thomas will offer his blood as "medicine" (because that's how he cured Newt of the Flare, why shouldn't it work with anything else?)

- Newt's limp is more likely to act up when sick since his immune system is focused on, yknow, combating the actual sickness

- In recovery, Newt spends a lot of time by the sea. He finds the little things comforting (fresh air, salty spray on his skin, occasional sea creatures, rhythmic waves) and it all reassures him that he's alive

- Thomas often joins him. Newt sits on the beach while Thomas looks for seashells and brings back any he finds. They continue this even after Newt recovers, basically becoming a weekly thing

- Newt, Thomas, and Minho fall quickly into the subconscious habit of checking each other's pulses. Thomas, to make sure his friends are staying with him. Newt, to make sure he's alive. Minho, to make sure everything's real

- In general, the ivy trio engages in more casual touches for the same reasons as above. But the one who does it the most is Newt (with Thomas)

- Thomas and Newt need to sleep by each other. They realized this quickly when Thomas was finally allowed to leave the medical tent after his gunshot wound healed and he immediately had a panic attack once night set in

- Minho sleeps close by before they all get their own houses/living areas. Always closer to the entrance, so if anything bad happens, he's the first to bear the damage in hopes Thomas and Newt can get away

- Minho gets into whittling. At first just to provide everyone with weapons, then because he actually enjoys it because it's something other than running that keeps him busy

- He eventually whittles Newt a cane and Thomas a holder for the pendant he got from Chuck

- Newt writes. A lot. Journals his thoughts, writes reminders for everyone (mainly Thomas), records plans and any important events in the Safe Haven

- Thomas and Minho go on early morning runs around the beach. Sometimes they invite Newt, and they slow down to the blonde's pace

- Thomas and Minho also explore the Safe Haven. They're the first to report any animals, unsafe areas, new food, more wood or vines. Basically Runners 2.0 except this time it's more voluntary

- Newt stays near the Safe Haven as much as possible and works on the gardens. When he gets his own place with Thomas, he creates one of his own (and bans Thomas from ever touching it)

- Despite his gardening skills, Newt is not a good cook. Awful actually. Thomas is more likely to make something edible

I'll cut it off there but I'll eventually post more bc I need to get these all out of my head

[walrus150915]

Nimona headcanons part 3 bc I'm insane (out of order and disorganized so like- be ready) and bc it's my new year gift for y'all

• Nimona mostly talks like a normal teen but sometimes she'd use words that show her real age. "Sonorous", "vapidity" n stuff like that. Her vocabulary is INSANELY huge

• Ambrosius tries not to swear so he uses a lot of silly replacements instead. "HOLY S- golly!!", "You son of a b- bishop". Like I'm sorry but he's the type of guy to say fricking instead of, yknow, the intended word. Ballister finds it endearing; Nimona finds it stupid

• Yes yes he does replace sex with lovemaking. Yes he purely refers to him and Bal going at it as "making love". Yes he's a fellow like that

• Ballister doesn't drink alcohol. I know that's implied in the movie that he drinks (although I thought he drank, like, soda?? On the other hand he is a wholeass thirty years old man who's seen some shit so I wouldn't be surprised) but idk he strikes me as a type to refuse drinking out of moral code. He doesn't eat pork for the same reasons (pushing my cultural Muslim Ballister agenda)

• Ambrosius drinks only during celebrations or parties. Not much because he's a light drinker😭 one cup and he's already lying on the floor, crying and hyperanalyzing his life

• after Nimona came back Ambrosius was not safe from her jokes. Neither of them despised each other (not after Nimona saved the whole Kingdom and not after Ambrosius proved he really isn't a jerk) but boy does Nimona make fun of him on any given occasion. Ambrosius was taken aback by this at first but then he just got used to it

• Ambrosius is being kinda petty and jealous when Ballister spends more time with Nimona than him ("Although now apparently he's got a new best friend, what's that about?!"), not in a way that'd make it unhealthy ofc but still😭. Him and Ballister were tied to the hip for like the most of their lives and now there's someone ELSE Ballister likes to hang out with? Ugh🙄

• Ambrosius had a diary when he was a teen, he didn't write much there (one or two sentences a day). Once he became an adult he kind of forgot about it but after the whole... Hunting stuff started happening he found himself writing a ton of sentences there again

• when him and Bal started dating Ambrosius had a whole page in that diary filled with "Ambrosius Boldheart" HE'S A GUY LIKE THAT OKAY

• Ambrosius likes to attack Ballister's face with quick little kisses. If he pecked his forehead he must peck his cheeks and nose and eyelids and cheekbones etc etc

• Nimona sometimes speaks in rhymes. She doesn't know how she's doing it but her tongue just does it on its own. ("Let's go dunk on the punk in the trunk")

• Ballister has actually been a year older than everyone in his class, another reason why he was the black sheep™

• Ambrosius can play the flute and the piano due to his noble upbringing he HATES whenever someone brings it up tho

• Nimona and Ballister have those nights where they recall historical facts and situations and Nimona shows her perspective of the things. "The guy claimed to be a war criminal was the biggest sweetheart in the world what are you onnn". Ballister wrecks his brain trying to understand if she's serious or not

• Ballister doesn't get a lot of the jokes, they just fly over his head. Only after some time he starts getting them, like in the middle of the night randomly going "ohhhh that's what she meant"

• first time Ambrosius and Ballister made out Ambrosius threw his hands in the air and said "yayy :D"

• Ballister's haircare routine is better than you think it is he's just casual about it. Yes he uses coconut oil like his life depends on it

• Ambrosius's complexion is leaner but Bal's is broader. So when they exchange clothes it doesn't fit because Bal's shirts are too loose on Ambrosius but also kinda short and Ambrosius's are kinda long but too tight in the shoulders for Bal. They still think it's sweet to swap their clothes sometimes

[futturmangamez]

Hellloo tumblr! Or should I say..futturfriends? I don't know hah! This is very important‼‼⚠️ I really hope everyone can see this

Just wanted to say a big thank you again for all of the love I have received so far! Did not think that I could gain a lot of new friends on here:) I wanted to point out though..I am uh..23. And I do tend to post a LOT of...nsfw topics😅 so I think it's really important to remember that unless you're an adult, I suggest not looking through my page and stuff. Maybeee 16+ is okay? Not for all things though. But still..I see some of you little preteenagers trying to talk to me in certain ways when you should be finishing your middle school final project before summer(light hearted joke😆🤣)

On another note! I do want to make sure everyone who is following and interacting my page feels comfortable. I want to be a safe space for you guys whether it be to reblog silly posts, ask me questions or share what you're up to, even messaging me how your day is, a little uh..flirtayy😌(hello beautiful ladies,men, and other futterfriends💋), and ranting as well! I dont mind any of that stuff..just keep in mind that I receive a lot of messages now and I try to balance tumblr with my games and work such! So please pleasee do not be hurt or offended if it takes me a few hours or even a day to reply sometimes 😅 I promise I will get to you when I can. Love you💙

(Also hi! This account is growing quite quick and I appreciate a lot of you for sticking around as well..still kinda new to tumblr and shit. Pls remember this is yknow..a roleplay account..I'm aware josh does post some annoying stuff hah I am just here to make others happy and do as best as I could roleplaying as josh..even if it's a lil horny haha I'm an adult too. I myself am nott trying to get with any of u..if that wasnt clear🤭I'm also human. Not an ai bot. (C ai and janitor ai has lots of josh futturman bots:)) I promise none of you guys are bothering me but I tend to take some time now to answer as it's been difficult balancing things, especially since I have some low mental health days too..as I'm sure josh would as well:D but yes feel free to message or reblog as much as u want..I know all of us are going thru something..if you're under 18 I dont mind if u come to josh to talk about anything NOT nsfw. I know what it's like to be young and not have a safe place to talk about things/rant..josh can be like your older silly cousin or sumn🫂 and if u ever prefer josh to say specific things in dm just say so :] also down to make friends with anyone here as well. Sending love and virtual hugs💜- B🃏

[galaxythreads]

Girlfriend👀

:DDD SO. i'm dating now??? i guess? i have a gf?? (!!!???) yeah. um. there was mutual pining from both of us, i proposed like 20 times (I propose to all my friends but I meant it this time) - as a JOKE but what if it WASN'T A JOKE?? - and i finally just like. straight-up asked her on saturday if she'd be interested in dating me? the signs were pretty obvious in retrospect? we're both amazed at how oblivious we were even though were SAYING WE WERE FLIRTING and PLANNING the wedding (JOKINGLY). she did write a fanfic for my original story like 3 months ago (?) as a "this will make her like me" thing which !!!! i had no idea. absolutely went over my head. We do live a whopping 24+ hours apart by car though, which is awful.

Genuinely, i never thought i would get this opportunity or that it would be safe TO date (still isn't, on the latter), but I'm so so so blessed she chose to be my girlfriend and i love her dearly. can't wait to meet her in person and finally kiss her beautiful face. Will be gushing about her on tumblr from now on so sorry about that.

anyway, our first date is friday. yes i asked her to be my gf before we went on the first date. we've talked so much that honestly i feel like we've been on 10-12 dates already? I had planned to wait but things just kinda. yknow. happened. idk. still reeling. still doesn't feel real. have had 1 and like 1/2 panic attacks about it. (it's GOOD, but it's also scary)

anyway, turns out, we're a fanfic: friends to lovers, a fell first but b fell harder (i'm b), fake dating/marriage au, mutual pining, and for me the "Oh. Oh." moment.

[luluwquidprocrow]

like a row of captured ghosts

kit snicket

teen

2,568 words

Kit Snicket visits a house in the city.

for @asouefanworkevent's woevember day 2, the baudelaire mansion! featuring my enduring headcanon that the baudelaire mansion was previously the snicket mansion, and b+b get it when they marry lemony. i am 100% willing to admit it is Unlikely, however let us not forget kit saying “our families have always been close”, so, yknow

title from welcome home by radical face

Kit could get in if she wanted. She’d been given lockpicks expressly for the purpose, because the locks on the house were special, but she didn’t need them. She knew the statue in the back of the garden had a hairline crack in one of the hands – she didn’t remember which one, but it wasn’t as if there were many options – that, when pressure was applied, opened a brick in the patio. Under the brick was a lever. If one were to pull the lever, the little window in the hidden attic opened, roof shingles shifting out of the way, and one could wiggle themselves in, with enough effort. Her grandfather had put a number of clever little secrets in the house, and Kit had gone looking for them when she was very, very young, so she knew a decent amount of them. Few others did. 

(The lockpicks confirmed that. If they thought that was the only way someone could get into the house, Kit was not going to correct them. And there were worse things, weren’t there, than simple theft, things for which no real defense existed.) 

Night air bit at her ankles, her fingers, her neck. She wasn’t dressed nearly warm enough for November, having grabbed her blue spring jacket in her hurry, but the cold was of little concern to her. The mansion stood across the street, set back from the road, with that winding brick path up to the front doors, the maple trees scattering their leaves around the yard. It was in the heart of the city but in a place one would never know unless explicitly looked for – a turn off an erroneously marked dead end, then another, to an old avenue along a river with more trees than houses. Her grandparents had picked it on purpose. Presumably safe, but close enough. 

They had added to the windows. Neat, decorative ironwork, curled into hearts and vines. 

Kit put her hands in her pockets and crossed the street, her footsteps the only noise. 

The fence out front had been replaced as well. Kit’s grandmother had done most of the architecture, and Bernadette Snicket had favored a simplistic, practical style in her work, but the new fence matched the intricacy of the window grates. That just-too-big space in the bars a person could slide themselves through if they desired, that Kit had, years ago, when she’d – that was gone. Kit walked the length of the fence twice, considering. She couldn’t linger long. There was a light on in a downstairs window, glowing soft behind the drawn curtains. Kit could not put it past them to eventually see her. She walked down the sidewalk one more time, picking up her pace. There was no way around the fence. Climbing over it didn’t seem like an option. The points at the top of each iron bar looked sharp, glinting in a stray hit of light from the streetlamp over near Kit’s car. 

(Kit wondered how much was a choice – how much was a needed decision – how much was meant to erase. She couldn’t judge Beatrice and Bertrand for that. Not without damning herself, which Kit was not, overall, in the habit of doing.) 

Of course there was a sewer grate nearby, and of course Kit pushed it up soundlessly and slipped down inside. 

Her grandfather had three boxes – one Kit had already taken some years ago and given to Bertrand, for reasons better left unsaid. One had been given to Lemony. The third was still in the house and held a very specific map of the city. Headquarters wanted it, among other things. And if Kit came across one of those other things, she was at her liberty to take them. 

(She and Beatrice had argued, Kit remembered. The sewer was dark and icy, and Kit shivered hard, grinding her teeth together. They’d argued about those other things, and Kit had not been able to give Beatrice, or herself, a satisfactory answer. It was one of the last conversations they had, if not the last. Most likely the last, if Kit was honest. Beatrice had made it clear where she and Bertrand stood, and where Kit stood, and that it was no longer in the same place. And it never would be. 

Kit told herself over and over that she would never do it. There would always be another option, as long as Beatrice and Bertrand were alive to emphatically refuse. Right now, there was this option – Kit was going into the house. She was taking the box back. Nothing else. And the box wasn’t even going to headquarters. There were other plans for that box.) 

The box would be in the downstairs office, under a floorboard. Probably Bertrand’s office. The windows were one of the ones her grandmother had put the stained glass in, and shards of blue fell over the green floor when the sun sat just right in the sky. It was a good room for thinking, and Bertrand likely did a great deal of it there. Kit swallowed and hurried further through the sewers, past the names that didn’t matter, and started scanning the curved ceiling. If one knew where to look, there was a sloped hatch up there that led up into the passage between the house and 667 Dark Avenue. Kit would open the hatch, get inside, go into the house, and then leave the same way. And there it was. Tucked in a shadow, just waiting for her. Kit reached up for the wheel, ready to heave the door open. It was going to stick with so little use. 

The wheel turned easy under her hands. 

Kit jerked back, her whole body seizing up. Someone had been here. Someone who was not her. Someone who wasn’t just checking. Kit spun the wheel frantically and the hatch fell open. 

(She’d brought Olaf here. Her grandparents hadn’t cared who knew the location of their house, but their generation had been different, and Kit’s parents had stressed, when they could, the importance of keeping this secret. Her associates thought it was a safehouse, one they could never quite find the location of, and wrote off as another ruse. She’d driven Olaf, pointing out landmarks the whole way, because she’d thought – 

Kit was not foolish enough to think she’d get married. But Olaf was important to her, and she was foolish enough to think he’d stay important, and that when Lemony inevitably married Beatrice and they took the house, Olaf would be there too.

They crept in through the fence. Olaf chased her around the maple trees. Kit took him into the house through the font doors and showed him what her grandparents built. And he understood what the Snicket mansion meant, in the way he had to understand what the Count’s mansion meant. Some time later, Kit realized he had not. 

Olaf’s memory was shit, except where it mattered. Except in the things she wanted him to forget. He’d remember where this house was and it was only a matter of time before he – before anyone – got their hands on the Baudelaires.)

Kit hoisted herself up into the passageway. She tugged the hatch closed behind her, then felt around in the black for the dip in the center. Her fingers kept slipping, shaking, pushing into metal that wasn’t right, nicking her nails, her heart thudding faster and faster in her chest and rising to a crash in her ears – where was it? There. She found the button and jammed her thumb into it. The metal hissed as it sealed from the inside. It wasn’t enough, Kit knew. Nothing would ever be enough now. But it would have to do. 

She ran along the passageway, keeping one hand on the wall. It came to an abrupt end, and Kit had her hand ready to pull open the trap door into the office when her mouth went dry. She swallowed, and then did it again. Once more. She let the trap door fall open and climbed into the Baudelaire mansion. 

The office was dark, as expected. Bertrand kept his desk by the windows, because of course he would. Not because Kit’s grandfather had, but because Bertrand would obviously like the view. The bookcases still lined the walls, but the books must surely be different. Kit wondered what he kept there, but there was no time to get into it. She could see the strip of light hovering under the door. It was poetry, probably. He probably kept poetry. Fairy tales he read to his children. The chair at his desk was different than the one her grandfather had there, perfect for sitting in and telling stories. She turned and faced the wall.

The floorboard was in the far left corner, at the front of the room. Kit moved slowly, quietly, barely breathing. Bertrand had covered the whole floor with a thick, heavy carpet, so at least that was in her favor. She bent down, tugging the corner of the carpet up, and lifted the single loose floorboard. 

(She always wound up doing this, she thought, in a voice that sounded stunningly like Lemony’s, wry as he ever was. Sneaking into someplace to steal something important. At least now she had experience.) 

There it was. Just as it had always been, another secret waiting for its time. The small, jeweled box with the complicated lock with the code her grandfather had taught all three of them. Kit tucked it inside her jacket and replaced the floorboard. 

It hit her like a shot, her breath catching in her throat. The sewer hatch locked only from the inside. She couldn’t go back that way. She whirled around, clutching the lump in her jacket to her chest. The best way to leave – the closest way out – that was through the library, two rooms down, through the passageway in the wall and up to the hidden attic. But that meant leaving the room. Standing in the hallway. Walking to the library, unseen. 

(She did not have experience. That voice sounded like Jacques, if Jacques had ever been so straightforward in his disappointment. She had to get out of this house before she kept thinking.)

Kit waited. Listened. She couldn’t hear anything from here in the office. She went through the map of the ground floor in her head, the foyer at the front, into the parlor, the living room to the left, the kitchen to the back, the dining room to the right – the hallway behind the kitchen, with the office, the billiard room, the library. The left wall in the library, where the hidden door was. Conceivably, it was easy. Wasn’t it? 

She turned the door handle and left the office. 

The hallway was half-lit from the living room at the end of the hall. Now she could hear the phonograph, playing a jazz record she didn’t recognize. Beatrice and Bertrand had to be in there, and it was right across from the library. Unless they were in the library. Unless they were – Kit gave herself a shake. She wouldn’t know anything until she moved. She just had to move. She just had to move. Kit just had to move. 

She couldn’t see the green floors. Beatrice and Bertrand had rugs everywhere, in elegant red and ivory. Kit tiptoed over it, hesitating. Paintings hung in groups down the hallway, flowers and little portraits and framed children’s drawings, scribbles of the garden hung with the same care as the art. They must be Violet’s. The jazz record kept going. Kit’s grandmother had liked oil paintings of flowers. She’d had a few in the hallway herself in her time. 

(Katherine, Bernadette Snicket had said. 

No, Kit insisted. How old was she then? Four? Just Kit. And her grandmother had looked pleased, like Kit had passed a test. Everything was a test and always had been, tests she’d completed perfectly, and why did it hurt? How far had Kit gone down the hall? The box sat against her ribs like another heart, heavy. Everything ached, especially her jaw, clenched shut like her life depended on it. And it did. This life around her she wasn’t a part of anymore, this family, this safety, Kit’s life existing outside of this place, everything depended on Kit, on her walking out of here alone, back to her apartment. The whole series of events spooled out in front of her as a nightmare unraveling. Was she crying? Why was she crying?)

Kit took another step, then another. The library was one foot away on the right, a mile away, mere inches, an eternity. The passthrough to the living room on her left gaped open.

Bertrand hummed a bar of the jazz record. And then – 

“What’ve you got there?”

Kit froze.

“I knew I left it somewhere in here – ha! That book I was looking for, for Violet and Klaus.”

“You really want to do the cob, don’t you?” The smile was clear in his voice, and Kit pictured Bertrand leaning forward in his chair, his hand on his chin, gazing at Beatrice and bursting with delight. 

“I absolutely do! I get to do a fake death scene and everything. How many kids books are going to give me that kind of opportunity, Bertrand?” 

They were alone. Their voices were far enough into the room that they shouldn’t see her at the doorway. They joked like she remembered, exactly like she remembered. Did they joke like that with their children? Would they have joked like that with Lemony, here, like they used to? With her? Would Olaf have – would her grandparents – wasn’t Kit supposed to be here too, not because it was hers, that wasn’t what mattered, what mattered was – 

Kit held her breath and didn’t let it out until she’d slipped into the library, until she’d rushed to the wall, until she’d nearly slammed her hand into the door hidden in the dark wallpaper, until she was safe in the narrow passageway. She wanted to run, to keep running. But they’d hear her in the wall. She took it step by step with her chest burning, traveling up two floors to the hidden attic. There was the little window in the roof, waiting for Kit to wiggle her way out. She did. The climb over the roof and down the trellis was harder, with her whole body trembling, but she made it. 

She stumbled through the garden, racing over the brick path back to the road, to the fence – she shoved her heels into the ironwork, scrambling over it, the tip of a bar slicing into her calf and her palms. She slipped on the way down the other side and her hip met the sidewalk, pain skittering through her leg and up her side. Get up. Get up, Kit. And Kit did, back to her car across the street, into the driver’s side. 

Kit took long and deep breaths. In and out, until her head was back on straight, with the plan set right in her thoughts, as it was supposed to be. Everything was as it should be. She set the box down gently on the passenger seat. She did not look at the Baudelaire mansion. She would patch herself up later, when she had time. She took another breath and put the key in the ignition. 

She had to go back home.

[lemontongues]

yknow ive been thinking again lately about how i would like to see more realism in batman content, both canon and fandom, but not the Dark And Gritty kind. the kind thats like.

yes actually he is highly emotionally intelligent and does understand himself quite well and has just accepted that he is A Freak and decided to roll with it rather than being so horrifically emotionally repressed that he can barely even acknowledge that what hes doing is based in trauma. hes been in therapy since he was like 9 years old. he studies human psychology extensively both for himself and so he has better odds of predicting whats gonna go wrong and how when hes up against a rogue or negotiating a hostage situation or whatever. he meditates for two hours a day and is fully capable of keeping a healthy handle on his anger 98% of the time. he's nice to people and fun to be around and sincerely caring. if he were just Always Right but super isolated and reactive and cruel and controlling everyone would fucking hate him and no it wouldnt be enough to sustain his crimefighting activities, thats a stupid lone wolf fuckboy fantasy

he has a strict 9pm bedtime that he only breaks for mandatory WE/brucie activities or emergencies. if theres a gala where he needs to rub shoulders with ppl to gather intel or keep his company running he'll do it but hes Not Happy about being out until midnight and cuts out early as often as possible, and when hes chasing the joker around until 3am hes lamenting his poor sweet circadian rhythm that did nothing wrong ever in its life the whole time. when hes batmanning hes expending a fuckton of energy and he needs to make it up and have a well-established routine to counteract the punishment hes putting his body through. on a similar note, this man is building braces and compression into his suit and doing extensive physical therapy exercises every day of his life bc he wants to have helpful little things like "knees" and "shoulders" by the time hes 40, and hes probably eating a small farms worth of assorted leafy greens and several chickens per day

he is simply Never drunk and he doesnt actually have that much sex. hes really really good at faking a) being drunk and b) getting a high priority phone call from lucius the minute someone hes making out with starts trying to get his shirt off. he also does a lot of "hey look i gotta get out of here with my reputation intact, can we help each other out and pretend we're gonna go fuck?" kind of negotiating with ppl (see: his 9pm bedtime, plus sometimes hes gotta slip away from an event to be sneaky), which is how a lot of the more wild stories about him start circulating lol. this is a man who's regularly getting gassed/injected/etc with highly experimental substances created by maniacs trying to torment or kill him, he does NOT want substances like drugs or alcohol in his body that could potentially interact with them, and the last thing he needs is to be dealing with a pregnancy or sti scare. plus if he can play it safe with someone and have them think of him as a nice and trustworthy dude who just has a bonkers reputation, all the better for his batman activities!

idk i just feel like theres unexplored potential in a lot of that stuff bc so much of recent batman mythos is like HES SO HARDCORE AND CAN DO ANYTHING AND HES ALWAYS RIGHT CAUSE HES SO PARANOID AND DISRESPECTFUL OF PPL AND THEIR BOUNDARIES BUT ITS OKAY BC ITS IN THE NAME OF BEING RIGHT and im like. okay. gotta admit that i dont rly find that believable or in line with my values. can we talk about WE's sweet sweet employee benefits package and bruce designing his suit to take most of the impact off his knees when he jumps off a roof. members of the jl discovering that he gives shockingly balanced and insightful advice about their mundane personal problems. bruce printing his own batsymbol envelopes to leave people cash after he misaims his grappling hook and breaks their window. things of that nature.

[mackmp3]

🏚 🔮 🪚 ⚰️ 🩸 for the character ask game bc theyre all interesting asf & im curious :P

YAY THANK YOU im assuming you mean for my ocs? i had tagged that game as them & i dont think we have a lot of media in common hehe but YIPPEE i answered ⚰️ here already :)

🏚 - what would your character do if their house was haunted? are they haunting their house? does the house reflect their state of mind, or does the house love/hate them and vice versa?

ooh it kinda depends cos strangeways can talk to ghosts, if it was a standard Dead Person haunting she'd be able to just hang out with them. like she probably wouldnt mind so much. haunting as metaphor for hanging on to the past etc. but if i was something a lot more nebulous she would 100% go full horror protagonist by a) trying to research & document & figure out whats going on and b) therefore providing a complete record of her haunting :) (she works in an archive specialsing in supernatural & extraterrestrial events in folklore lol)

mihangel would be the one haunting the house. or the house is haunting him. the house is representative of his doubt and how she feels his identity could slip away from him any moment and he doesnt know how to stop life carrying on, pulling her along with it. she is still living in the house that she knows is haunting her because she has forgotten what it was like before

rest of qs under the cut its kinda long lol

🔮 - if your character had a dream they or a loved one was going to die a horrible death (that is probably inevitable), what would they do?

strangeways would probably, very very deep down, a bit relieved - because of her Time Thing she is aging slowly and isnt sure if she'll ever die, and really cant think of much worse than living Forever. but she'd still be afraid. being theoretically able to die and seeing your own death barelling towards you is quite different. if it was someone close to her? she would walk to their house in the middle of the night and make sure they were safe.

mihangel kinda canonically has this? like he has dreams about his time Being Dead and theyre very real because it. Was real. he would only start getting Worried if it wasnt the same dream yknow? but if it was about someone else he would probably tell strangeways about it and then they would panic together lol

🪚 - what would happen if you put two of your characters in a saw trap maze together?

panic & cry & bleed a lot probably idk much about saw traps but it sounds pretty bad theyd hate it needless to say

🩸 - if confronted with a monster, would they romance them, befriend them, fight them, run away, kill them? something else?

strangeways would be taking meticulous notes & even attempting a few sketches and getting out a tape recorder to ask them a few questions & respectfully sitting down to listen. mihangel would be trying to leave but if strangeways did end up actually interviewing/documenting/petting a monster she would probably chill out a bit but maybe not get toooooo close. he's been to space & met aliens but he was also killed by one so while he knows most of them are chill she's well aware a lot of them are Not lol. he is one of those people who as a kid fully believed in fae & convinced his friends at school the beasts of exmoor were real & he'd seen one too (not in exmoor but on his grandparents farm in wales so that was pretty close when youre eight) so yeah he would be immediatly Scared by a monster. though it does depend on how Big & Feral it is ig

[mochiwrites]

okay yknow what. Ethubs and 7?

send me a prompt!

A loud yell has Etho bolting upright, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

He's lived in this shrine for years, he knows this place like the back of his hand. He doesn't need to think as he runs up the stairs to Bdubs' room, where he finds the godling sitting up right and shaking. His hand is grasping tightly at his night shirt, right where his heart is.

Looking around first for any sort of danger, Etho sighs in relief when he doesn't find any. Which means two things: 1) it was a nightmare, and 2) he can focus his attention solely on Bdubs.

"B?" He questions gently, slowly moving over to him.

Bdubs' head lifts up, and Etho sees nothing but tears and snot. Bdubs is nowhere near a pretty crier, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

The moment Etho is close enough, Bdubs is latching onto him. With the godling pressed against him, he can feel how badly he's shaking. Etho frowns softly, moving to tug him properly into his arms. "I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now." He mutters softly, gently rubbing his back. He rubs gentle circles along his shoulder blades, giving Bdubs all the time he needs to collect himself.

He doesn't pay much attention to the snot getting all over his robes, not caring much. Though he'll definitely use it as fuel to tease Bdubs later, if only to get the other out of his own head.

Etho doesn't need to ask what the nightmare was about, if the way Bdubs is setting his hand over his heart is any sort of indicator. "You're alright, B. We're both alright." He murmurs again, and in a moment that he'll deny later, he presses a kiss against his head.

"T-The clock, Etho, it--" Bdubs stammers, voice shaking. "Isn't connected to you anymore." Etho soothes, "Your life is connected to mine now, remember?"

Bdubs looks up at him, and Etho offers him a smile. They lock eyes for a few moments before the godling huffs and buries his face into Etho's chest, "'Course you're the guy I'd get stuck with for all eternity."

"Aw, c'mon B, am I really that bad of company?" Etho replies, leaning into whatever distraction Bdubs is trying to create for himself. "I'm not the obnoxious one around here."

"Shaddup." Bdubs grumbles, but he's squeezing his arms around the angel anyways, nuzzling close.

"Love you too, B."