#unnervingly accurate

[ir0n-angel]

What's your role in the tragic play?

Quiz link

Tagged by @crackinglamb. Thanks, luv. 😘

Tagging @madangel19 @st0nergh0ul @the-desert-dancer @ranaspkillnarieth @bogunicorn @theluckywizard and @fiadhaisteach. No pressure!

((image: my commission of my OC, Eve)

[cuculine-nelipot]

here's a random word generator--whatever word it gives you is now the thing you are the deity of

[steel-and-fire]

Affection language

Stolen by: @nameaprice

Tagging: @belost-the-watcher @ringmaster-midori , @the-storm-chaser , @tribus-semitae , @llixulia , @nasus-thescholar , @abhorsenslives , @green-x-reaper

[thelemoncoffee]

so my friend Toby just made a large chunk of our friend group binge watch Sk8, and even though i hardly retained any actual plot or story information cause Plent and Winter were doing some live dubing jokes over the show (90% of which were about duct tape)- i did infact come out of this binge alive and with an au plot.

yep i'm doing this, Saiouma with skateboards doing the underground racing tournements, lets go.

Specifically i wanna talk dynamic, it's a pretty common one for me and my aus, but it works so insanely well for a competitive sport au like this: and that is of course lovers by day, enemies by night. i want the whole underground skating world to think Saiouma hate each other's fucking guts, but then like- by day they're they gayest couple to ever.

They know who the other is so this isn't like a hidden identiy situation, they just like competing with one another and playing mind games, and this was the way they chose to do so. quallity boyfriend bonding time by pretending to be enemies/rivals.

actually- bonus points if they act totally different while skating than they normally do. Like Shuichi uses the night life to come out of his shell and harness his inner punk, while Kokichi is much more reserved and sweet/caring to his opponants, both play it up as part of their skater identies but both are rooted in parts of them self they normally don't show in public for varying reasons.

the personas of course also add to the enemies dynamic too- like wtf did that punk guy do to piss of the nicest skater to run this track? be his boyfriend in a mutual enclosure enritchment game of wits, that's what

alternatively there could also be a skater x skateboard maker dynamic here, and depending on how you interpret Saiouma either could be in either position- but i prefer the fake rivals dynamic more.

[brilarsn]

phoebe kent is gay confirmed

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

[angie-words]

Firstly: I am sorry for no. 8, but sometimes the angst takes me

Secondly: thank you to @prinxlegolass for helping me source some of the text posts!

Thirdly: if you haven't already seen the news that Michael Sheen will be playing Prince Andrew in a Prime TV show this September, it looks like MS's performance will be unnervingly accurate, reminding me of this Sean Lock line:

last meme dump next meme dump

[bunchashapes]

as per your previous ask -- what's your favorite idea for a "twist" on conventional fantasy tropes/races/etc. either in a setting you're working on or just as a one-off thought that has entertained you.

this question is from a while back and i keep forgetting to answer it. i will happily take this opportunity to soapbox about my own setting so allow me a moment to talk about elves. or more specifically, dragons.

Dragons are basically extinct in modern times, but people still recognize them as they appear in legends; big scaly guys with regal wings, covered head to toe in scales, capable of exerting overwhelming elemental power. While this isn’t untrue, dragons are actually more legend than beast. “Dragon” more accurately describes a power that supersedes biology or even life itself. The very IDEA of dragons is an interminable force of nature. As such, anything can BECOME a dragon. A city-shattering hurricane with enough momentum can become a dragon, as can say, an exploding star (even a particularly angry swarm of bees, given enough determination, can become a dragon).

So what happens when ancient humans attempted to attune to draconic magic themselves? That’s where you get Elves! Long-lived, elegant, and intimately familiar with magic, the first elves were the result of an attempt to ascend to dragonhood, some more successful than others. In fact, especially long-lived and powerful elves can grow even closer to dragonhood, taking on any number of dragon-like qualities (this is where you’d slot in dnd-style dragonborn, except these would be EXCEEDINGLY rare) and under the right circumstances, an elf can even pass the threshold to dragonhood…

In terms of visual design, elves are pretty standard fare with the long ears and all (they tend to have long necks like elves in divinity) but also have the potential to have tails! The more “true” an elf, the more unnervingly slender and draconic they look, but in the context of say, a ttrpg, this just means you get a lot of little options for what type of elf you want. anyway that’s elves :)

[dragonflies-draw-flame]

Your Result:

Red Camellia - "you are a flame in my heart"

Wow, you are a force to be reckoned with! When you’re motivated, there’s absolutely nothing that can stop you. Sometimes, you can get a little wrapped up in yourself, but overall you are so passionate about other people. If you’re interested in something, you’ll take it to extremes and learn everything you possibly can about it. You can talk for ages and there’s constantly a million thoughts, ideas, and opinions running through your head. You tend to see the world in black and white; it wouldn’t hurt to balance your viewpoints out a bit, but also, never lose your strong sense of morality. You’ve definitely been constantly told that you’re “too much”– don’t listen to them. You’ll find your people who love all the parts of you, and especially your zest for life. You might have trouble balancing out your emotions, and you definitely feel everything at an intensity that would stagger others. You also probably have a great distrust of authority.

Have you ever wondered what flower from Victorian flower language you are? I have! I have a quiz about it! (my credentials are that I have a spreadsheet of over 600 flower meanings)

[tempobaekh]

Cheater!

pairings: daryl dixon x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, crack, chaos, yelling?, alcohol consumption

a/n: i saw this one video on tiktok this one and IT SOUNDS SO ACCURATE TO MAGGIE and i feel like she is the veryyy competitive type with underlying anger issues when it comes to board games LMAOOOO so i had to quickly write this before i lose motivation

The night air in Alexandria was cool, the gentle hum of distant cicadas blending with the occasional burst of laughter from inside your house.

Inside, the hum of laughter and the faint clink of glass echoed in your small Alexandria house as the six of you sat around the table. A half-empty bottle of whiskey stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by empty shot glasses, bowls of whatever slightly stale snacks you’d scavenged, and a stack of worn board games you’d brought back from the latest supply run.

After stumbling upon the box of board games on a supply run, you’d insisted on a game night.

The night had started innocently enough—Rick had vetoed Twister (his knee couldn’t handle it), Glenn had no clue how to play Scrabble, and Michonne had made it abundantly clear that Risk wasn’t an option. But when you and Carol suggested UNO, everyone agreed instantly.

The game started off simple enough. Glenn was the first to suffer Maggie’s wrath, groaning loudly when she dropped a Wild Draw Four on him.

“Seriously?” Glenn whined, stacking cards in his hand. “How do you have three of these?”

Maggie shrugged innocently, though the smug smile on her face was far from innocent.

Rick and Michonne exchanged knowing looks, already predicting Maggie’s reign of terror. Carol, sitting on your left, shook her head with a soft chuckle. “Don’t let her fool you, Glenn,” she said, her voice teasing. “She’s always had that sweet, innocent act down to an art.”

But to everyone’s surprise, Daryl was catching on—and fast.

A few rounds in, the tension was palpable. Maggie had two cards left, Glenn was drowning in a sea of colors, since she had won this round first, Carol relaxed and took a sip of her drink, and Rick was down to his last card, eyeing everyone suspiciously. Michonne was unnervingly calm, while you kept trying to suppress your giggles as Daryl muttered curses under his breath whenever the game turned against him.

Your boyfriend had been hesitant to play at first, grumbling about how he didn’t grow up playing games and didn’t see the point. But after a quick explanation of the rules and a few drinks, he’d started to get the hang of it, though his stubbornness and blunt demeanor didn’t make him the easiest player to deal with.

But again, he was getting the rhythm of the game.

“Daryl, your turn,” you said, nudging him.

He flicked through his cards, pausing dramatically before slapping down a Reverse card.

Rick groaned. “You serious, man? I was about to win!”

“That’s the point,” Daryl replied with a small, satisfied smirk.

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “You’re gettin’ too good at this, Dixon.”

“I’m just playin’ the game,” he shot back, shrugging.

You leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You’re doing great, babe.”

He grunted, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Carol chuckled softly beside you, her tone was full of sarcasm as she spoke to Daryl. “Looks like you’ve got some hidden talents, Dixon. Who knew?”

“Shut it,” Daryl muttered, though his lips twitched upward.

Now, a few rounds into the game, you were well past "simple" at this point. The table was littered with half-eaten pretzels, discarded cards, and a growing storm of drunken competitiveness. Maggie had turned out to be surprisingly vicious—who knew such a sweet, Southern farm girl could have such a cutthroat streak?

Right now everyone in the room was watching an actual showdown between Maggie and Daryl over one particularly heated round.

“Alright,” Maggie drawled, narrowing her eyes at Daryl. She had just played a Draw Four card, and he was staring at his cards like they’d personally offended him. “Your turn, Dixon.”

Daryl glared at his hand, chewing on his bottom lip. “Ain’t got nothin’,” he grumbled, drawing from the deck. He was sitting slightly hunched over, his shaggy hair casting shadows over his intense blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Maggie said smugly. “Two cards left for me. Better luck next time, boys and girls.”

You leaned back, sipping your drink, enjoying the sight of your man starting to get fired up.

“Oh yeah?” Daryl suddenly said, slapping a red card on the pile with a little too much gusto. “There. Done.”

Maggie blinked at him. “Wait. Did you—did you just put your second-to-last card down?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Maggie’s Southern accent sharpened in frustration as she threw her hands up. “You cheatin’ son of a bitch! You’re supposed to say ‘UNO’ when you only got one card left!” she bellowed.

That got everyone’s attention. Glenn choked on his drink, Rick coughed into his hand to cover a laugh, and Michonne leaned back, shaking her head in disbelief. You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying desperately to stifle your giggles.

Carol, calmly munching on a pretzel, raised an eyebrow. “She’s not wrong, Daryl,” she chimed in, her tone light.

Daryl blinked at Carol then turned to Maggie and shrugged. “I said one.”

“You’re supposed to say UNO,” Maggie hissed, jabbing a finger toward him, her cheeks flushed. “It’s a Mexican game!”

Daryl squinted at Maggie, clearly trying to decide whether she was messing with him. "What the hell’s bein’ Mexican got to do with it? I said it!"

Carol smirked at the exchange, leaning toward you. “Think we should step in?” she whispered.

“Absolutely not,” you replied, grinning. “This is gold.”

The argument continued for another solid two minutes before Michonne finally intervened, smirking as she threw down a Reverse card. “You know what? Let’s settle this the old-fashioned way—Daryl gets two penalty cards, and Maggie has to sit out a turn for yelling.”

���Fair!” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

Carol nodded sagely. “Sounds like justice to me.”

“Fine,” Maggie grumbled, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair.

“Whatever,” Daryl muttered, snatching his penalty cards and glaring at the table. But you caught the tiny, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—he knew he’d gotten under Maggie’s skin, and he was damn proud of it.

"Daryl Dixon, you’re the worst UNO player I’ve ever met," Maggie finally said.

"And you’re the loudest," he grumbled, glaring at her before throwing a wild card onto the pile. "Red."

As the game resumed, you leaned over and nudged him with your elbow. “Hey, Uno champ,” you whispered, grinning. “You’re lucky I am here, or Maggie might’ve actually decked you.”

Daryl gave you a side glance, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Ain’t scared of her.”

“Sure you’re not,” you teased, watching as he focused back on his cards.

Carol laughed from her spot, shaking her head and whispering to you. “Honestly, I think Maggie was about three seconds away from throwing that deck at his face."

As the next round began, the tension dissipated, though Maggie was clearly watching Daryl like a hawk. Every time he picked up a card or played one, she muttered under her breath, and you swore he started intentionally dragging it out just to rile her up.

The last round of the game had devolved into absolute chaos, and you were pretty sure no one had played by the rules for at least three rounds. By the time the game finally ended, Rick was cuddling Michonne in the corner, while she had claimed victory, Carol began cleaning up the card, and Glenn and Maggie were bickering over who had drunk the last of the whiskey. 

After a while of just talking and joking, the others decided to call it a night and began bidding you and Daryl good night and heading out the door. 

After everyone had departed, you and Daryl started cleaning, albeit his movements were a little slower than usual because of the alcohol.

"You really did good tonight," you teased, stacking the cards into their box.

"Good?" he muttered, raising an eyebrow. "I kicked her ass."

You laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Sure you did, Dixon. Sure you did."

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[punkeropercyjackson]

@insomniac-jay said Batfam Doawk au and i'm here to deliver

Duke and Jason are Greg and Rodrick obviously.Damian is Manny unnervingly accurately

Brutalia are Susan and Frank(Duke and Jason are adopted and Damian's their biokid)

Luna is Rowley because it couldn't be anybody else and Summer is Heather on cool hot popular IT girl Jason/Rodrick plays an 18 by Anarbhor cover to and pretends to hate him basis

The plot is basically the same but in black/brown coming of age/black/brown family movie font and instead of The Long Haul,the fourth part and finale is S'mores To Go,about The Traffic Light Siblings,Luna,Summer and Kon going on a cross country roadtrip lasting an entire month and has Jaysumm getting together

[welcometololaland]

do you like reading about tarlos having an awkward encounter in an adult store? if so, this snippet is for you!

this is from the fic affectionately known as 'Call Me' that i am successfully co-parenting with @rmd-writes (tag, you're it!)

There’s a head of brown hair that’s clearly visible from over a row of very…interesting paraphernalia. Even before the man turns around, Carlos knows who it is. It’s a vibe, an aura, an unfortunate consequence of being extremely attracted to someone who is in precisely the wrong place at precisely the wrong time. Carlos was wrong. Seeing TK Strand in a sex shop might be worse than seeing his parents. “Savannah,” he says, coughing awkwardly. “I've, um, I’ve actually got to go somewhere. Emergency. Don’t worry about the—” “Are you sure?” she asks, far too loudly. “I can show you the options real quick—” “Officer Reyes?” Fuck. Carlos is completely fucked. He feels rooted to the spot, unable to take a breath as his eyes dart over the shelf of unnervingly accurate, plastic, human body parts. Clear green eyes blink back at him, equally as shocked. “Strand,” he replies, his voice sounding far less shaky than it feels. “Hi.” “I’ll leave you to it,” Savannah says, looking between them furtively before scurrying off between the aisles. Carlos kind of wants to throw a dildo at her. “What are you— I probably shouldn’t ask that,” TK stammers, looking adorable with his wide eyes and his unguarded expression. When Carlos’ eyes drop to TK’s hands, he sees he’s holding an ungodly amount of lube and a small silver plug.  Huh. Interesting.

if you haven't played wip weds and you want to, you SHOULD! I tag you!

thanks for the tags @heartstringsduet and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut!

i'll tag some tarlos people who might have a laugh and then provide me with their own snippets (greedy for them): @bonheur-cafe @decafdino @vineofroses @liminalmemories21 @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @reyesstrand @kiwichaeng @goodways @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk @theghostofashton @safeaswrites @kiloskywalker @thebumblecee @nancygillianmvp @sznofthesticks @sunshinestrand @thisbuildinghasfeelings @three-drink-amy @strandnreyes @lightningboltreader @orchidscript @lemonlyman-dotcom @never-blooms @alrightbuckaroo @freneticfloetry @fitzherbertssmolder @whatsintheboxmh

and @kiwiana-writes because they're the best and tag me every week 💜

[litsetaure]

I mean…on the one hand, yes.

On the other hand, I’m half-English, so England beating Australia is also bloody satisfying (not that it’s happened recently, mind you…)

[c-schroed]

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) Or Why The Probably Most Accurate Movie Adaptation Of Dracula Still Is Not Accurate Enough

I mentioned some time ago - while salivating over the marvellous razor scene of Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula adaptation - that there is quite some stuff to unpack here. And now I found some time to unpack. So let's begin. I'll start with the good stuff, firstly the good stuff that's not in the book (i.e., the Flourishes), than the good stuff that's true to the book (the Well-Conserved). Thirdly, I'll make note of things that were, unnervingly, changed (by which I mean They Came Back Wrong), and then I'll deal with what is unfortunately left out from the book (the Missing). And finally, finally I'll rant over that two bad things that never were in the book in the first place (a section I'll call JUST WHY?).

So. A tragedy in five acts. Here we go.

Act I - The Flourishes

The razor scene. I think I dealt with this enough by now. It's perfection and I'll die on that hill.

The music. Obviously, Bram Stoker's gothic lil masterpiece is lacking some gorgeous score. But mourn no longer, because Wojciech Kilar cooked up some dashing, pushing tune for us, fitting perfectly to this dark tale of spreading darkness and deepening madness.

Some basic knowledge about blood groups. Yeah, Stoker can't be blamed for this, but still. It's a nice addition to remind us that we do indeed live in a world where blood groups exist.

The Westenra Estate. As much as I pity that the lovely town of Whitby did not make it into the movie, I do love Lucy Westenra's house. Because I'm a sucker for hedge mazes. Simple as that.

Those glasses. Those. Fucking. Nice. Glasses.

Act II - The Well-Conserved

The plot in general. Yes, there are a lot of maddening differences, as we will see soon. But still, this movie at least makes the impression that most of the people working on it had indeed read the darn novel. Which is something that I can't say about many other Dracula adaptations I have seen.

The costumes, the sets, the atmosphere. Well done, everyone!

The Actors. The good thing about being not native in a language is that one is not very prone to dialects that seem off. And as I happen to not be a native speaker of English, I have little problems with Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder adding some US touch to what should be very, very, v e r y British characters. I even find Reeves perfectly fitting for the oh so darn young Jonathan Harker. And the rest of the cast is marvellous, too (with the exception of Winona Ryder, see below for details). Especially Tom Waits, who is hard-wired to the name of Renfield in my brain ever since I first saw this movie. And Gary Oldman as Dracula… Well. I think I already made clear what opinion I have about that sexy bastard.

Some lucky few of lovely quotes made it over to the film. Dracula's welcome. The Fowl Bauble of Human Vanity, of course. And Qunincey almost making me faint when saying "Little girl" when I least expected it.

Act III - They Came Back Wrong

The dates. Goshdarnit, the dates! It's an epistolary novel, so why make the effort of making up completely new dates for events that already had a precise date in the novel? I just don't get it. And it unnerves me. Every. Fucking. Time.

Time in general. Watching the movie after Dracula Daily makes it feel so very, very hasty. Jonathan travels to Castle Dracula like it's no thing at all. And the first few days in Castle Dracula are condensed into one weird evening.

Dracula meeting Mina before Jonathan is back. I really, really loved the book for avoiding the most terrible tropes. And then comes this movie, and struts right into this terrible pitfall.

Mina. I'm sorry, usually I love the work of Winona Ryder, but here she was way too bland. Maybe it was because her character had quite a revamp (ha. ha.) and no one cared to tell her what new approach she should take. But whatever reason, the clever, adorable train fiend of the original did not deserve this!

Act IV - The Missing

The Voyage of the Demeter is way too short. Where is "But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship"? Where is the poor sea captain tying himself to the wheel? And where is his funeral? Oh, I really missed all that. And, I mean, I don't mind hearing Anthony Hopkins read the lines, but would it have been such an expense to at least hire an additional actor to voice the correspondent or the sea captain?

Jonathan Holding Mina By the Arm. That's really not an objectively big issue. That's just me who fell in love with JonMina after reading this chapter. And almost no one does it properly. They deserve justice!

(Thanks a ton to @smieska for capturing my mood just perfectly!)

Act V - JUST WHY?

Elisabeta. Don't get me wrong here: All of the oh so tragic Drac backstory they invented for this movie is terribly unnecessary. But in this sea of uselessness, the tragically deceased wife of Vlad Țepeș that just so happens to perfectly resemble Mina Murray is an audience-insulting island of unoriginality. I mean, yeah, I guess someone wanted to add some romance to the story of Vlad the Fucking Impaler. Because, well, nineties or so. But Mina, of all women? Why not invent some new character that can be bothered with such stuff? Why ruin an all-nice JonMina ship? I don't get the whole new backstory, and I especially don't get this aspect.

Dracula raping Lucy in his shitty werewolf form. Everything about this is wrong. And it has no relevance for the plot. Just. Blergh.

Epilogue

It's cruel to watch Francis Ford Coppola's take on Dracula right after finishing @re-dracula. I know that now. Everything is still too fresh. It's a good movie, after all, but especially because it's quite good it is frustrating to be so terribly aware of all its shortcomings. In a few weeks or so, I would recommend it, again, I guess. As long as it's still Dracula Off-Season. 7 out of 10 points.

[my-burnt-city]

My rankings, purely in terms of number of times followed and which therefore unfortunately do in some cases misrepresent the amount of fondness felt for particular characters:

I made a tierlist

I WANT TO SEE YOUR RANKINGS

[oceanwithouthermoon]

OKAY im posting this crappy wip kubosai one-shot because ive been lagging severely on writing... sorry if its cringe, its completely unedited rn</3

this is roughly 1800 words.. the actual wip is about 4000 LOL but i skipped a couple parts so this is about half the wip i guess..

Kusuo was sitting at his desk with his legs curled to his chest, glaring at nothing, when his phone dinged next to him. Already not in the best mood, he sneered as his eyes snapped over to the device. The noise had disturbed one of his favorite pastimes; being moody for no reason and doing nothing, and the bright light was equally disturbing. When he looked over, it also shone the time as "1:36am" which ruined his blissful unawareness of how long he'd been brooding. His unusually accurate internal clock could have told him that, really, but Kusuo would never pass up an opportunity to be mad about something stupid.

His eyes softened significantly when he caught sight of what the notification actually was. A text from contact name "Kuboyasu Aren" with no contact picture. Yeah, that was how Kusuo kept all his contacts. Super boring and super normal.

He clenched his teeth, trying to bring his anger from before back after realizing how much and how easily his mood lifted just reading his classmate's name.

His phone had gone back to a black screen before Kusuo could read the actual contents of the message, so he begrudgingly unfurled himself from his position with a heavy sigh. He planted his feet back on the floor just a bit too aggressively and swiped up his phone as he stomped over to his bed to flop himself down on it.

When he finally turned his phone back on, the notification read “3m ago” and he clicked on it.

The message read, “hey princess when u wake up do u wanna hangout ??!? could i come overrr tomorrow please”

Annoying lack and misuse of punctuation, but Kusuo has learned that this tends to be the norm in texting, especially with other teenagers. In all fairness, the way Kusuo texts isn't very conventional either. He made fun of Toritsuka’s severe overuse of emojis once, and then immediately got ganged up on by all of the self proclaimed ‘PK psychickers’ because he tends to overuse emoticons in the same way. He doesn't know how else to express himself over text, alright? He learned to text only from his mom, Akechi, and Aiura and this is just how it turned out.

And for your information, the stupid princess pet name was just some silly thing Kuboyasu had gotten in the habit of doing lately. Trust Kusuo when he says it's much more embarrassing when he says it out loud, especially at school, than when he texts it, though knowing that his name in Kuboyasu’s contacts was “My Princess :)” was probably even worse.

Anyway, Kuboyasu had clearly made the assumption that Kusuo would be sleeping at this hour. Well, usually he would be. Kusuo LOVES getting his sleep in, but he just so happened to have taken a very long nap earlier that day, so he had a late dinner, and subsequently a late dessert. So, his usually abnormally fast metabolism hadn't quite been rid of all the sugar and caffeine he'd consumed not long ago. A series of unfortunate events, really, which culminated in him not being tired enough to sleep yet. At least he got to get in his usual ‘angrily staring at nothing for no reason’ time that he accidentally skipped because of his nap, although that did just get interrupted too.

So finally, he responded to Kuboyasu with, “I'm awake. (-.-;) Sure, I guess.”

Kuboyasu read the message and began typing unnervingly quickly after it was sent. “really ?!?!? also y r u awake lol i thought u would be asleep hours ago”

The poor guy probably wasn't expecting him to say yes immediately. Kusuo usually would argue about it for a bit before giving in to the teasing and pleading of his self proclaimed friends. It was way too late (/early) to play that game right now though, he knew he would just say yes in the end anyway. It had nothing to do with him actually wanting to see the dumb former punk who he had been unusually close with lately.

The taller boy just GOT him in a way other people never did. His undying loyalty and honesty was a refreshing contrast from many of the other people the psychic was often forced to be around. Loyal, honest, strong, romantic, protective. Not that those last few things affected the way he interacted with Kusuo or anything…

Kusuo replied again, “Yes. And I usually would be, but… too much caffeine. (￣^￣)”

Another quick response, “lol thats totally something u would do.. since ur up, r u down to call right now ?”

“To call? It's almost 2am. ಠ_ಠ Why are YOU awake anyway?”

“lol i know i know but im so bored… i just cant sleep.. we can be quiet on the call, but id like to hear ur voice right now :)”

Good grief, ew. How disgusting. “Hm… okay. ∩(｡-_-｡)∩”

(Don't you dare ask Kusuo why his internal monologue is so different from what he actually replies with. It's definitely not because he's an unreliable narrator who doesn't want to admit to himself or anyone that he actually wants to talk to a boy. Why would that be the case? Don't be dumb.)

Kusuo forgot to turn his ringer off before Kuboyasu could call him, so despite entirely expecting the phone call, the loud ringing startled him into dropping his phone on his face. How embarrassing, all-powerful psychic drops his phone on his face at almost 2am.

He scrambled to pick it back up and answer it so that the noise wouldn't wake up his parents. It would be really easy for him to just lull them back to sleep with his telepathy the second they wake up, but it would be inconvenient and his dad might complain in the morning. About either remembering waking up or just about not getting a good night’s sleep.

He finally clicked the answer button, luckily before his parents could wake up, and held back a sigh as he held the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, princess!” Kuboyasu was speaking in a whisper yell, probably also a room away from his sleeping parents.

“Hello.” He tried to speak in a way that wouldn't give away the fact that he was recovering from a smack to the face. Phone calls were a bit awkward for Kusuo, since microphones didn't pick up on his telepathy so he had to use his actual voice to speak over the phone. He always just hoped people wouldn't notice the extra rasp to his voice, but the late hour might work in his favor in this situation.

“So what have you been up to?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Up at 2 am and you're just sitting there, doing nothing?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I've been doing. What else is there to do at 2am?”

“Well, I've been making the most of MY time, personally.”

“And how have you been doing that, exactly?”

“Thinkin’ about you.”

“...”

“...”

“... *snort*” Okay, how could that NOT make him laugh? He took the phone slightly away from his face and laughed into his hand.

“What?? It's true!” The idiot couldn't hold back his laughter either.

“Yeah, yeah, okay… whatever, you're such a pain…”

“Yeah? Am I?”

“Yes.”

“And yet, you're here talking to me at 2 am just because I asked you to? Admit it, you love it.”

“Tch. You really need to get over yourself, you know that?”

“Well. Humor me for a bit longer, will you?”

“You're desperate.”

“For you.”

Kusuo muttered into his hand, “Oh my god.”

“I wish I could see your face right now, I know you're blushing.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you can prove that.”

“You want me to?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want me to come over there and check?”

Kusuo could hear the smirk in Kuboyasu’s voice. The jerk knew Kusuo couldn't say no to him. They both knew this game. Kusuo would deny him just for show, even though they both know he wants to say yes, and Kuboyasu would tease the truth out of him. Well, fine. Kusuo could play this game.

“You want to sneak out of your house and into mine at 2am just so you can check how successful your teasing is?”

“Mhm. Not just that, I would do anything to see my pretty princess’ face right now. I'm bored, you're bored, the only solution is for the knight to rescue the princess from this ailment, obviously.”

“You're an idiot.”

“You want to see me, I know it.” And he did. Kusuo could hear shuffling over the phone. That asshole was probably already putting his shoes on, knowing Kusuo would say yes. “What, you scared to prove me right? You don't want me to see your pretty pink face right now?”

… Kuboyasu was good at this game. He knows that husky voice is fucking irresistible. To Kusuo, at least. “... Okay, okay. Only so I can prove you WRONG.”

He knew Kuboyasu was smiling, but then the mood settled a bit. “You serious, Saiki? I know I'm messing with you, but I won't pressure you if you don't wanna sneak me in. I mean, that's kinda a lot to ask now that I'm thinkin’ about it. I really wanna see you, but I wouldn't make you do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, I've already made up my mind. Are YOU sure? You realize how late and dark it is, yeah? You can't just stroll the streets at 2 am, you're gonna get hurt.”

“Awee, you worried about me, princess? No need, your knight in shining armor can protect himself just fine.”

"... Fine. Just stay on the phone with me."

"Hm? While I walk?"

He figured Kuboyasu wouldn't want to have a conversation over the phone in favor of paying attention to his surroundings, but... Kusuo couldn't help but be nervous about his friend's safety at this hour. He just wanted to make sure he was fine the whole walk.

"We don't have to talk, just... stay on the phone with me..."

Kuboyasu snorted. "What, you gonna miss me in those, what, ten whole minutes?"

Kusuo scoffed quietly. "Don't be so full of yourself. I'm just making sure you don't trip and fall or something at 2am on the way to my house. Wouldn't want the blame to fall back on me." He somehow still managed to convey snark in his almost monotone voice despite his whisper.

Kuboyasu chuckled softly, as he snarked back teasingly, "You know I can take care of myself. Can't believe you're still worried about me~."

Kusuo did know that. It didn't change anything. And he WASN'T worried, he just knew that his various nuisances tended to get into trouble when he wasn't there to monitor them. He was always getting them out of trouble even in broad daylight, so there was absolutely no reason to think that walking alone in the middle of the night would prove to be an exception.

"Just shut up and don't hang up, alright?"

He heard the quiet creak of a door closing and shutting, barely drowning out Kuboyasu’s attempt at muffling his laughter. "Alright, sweet boy. I'm right here."

-

EWWWW CRINGEE EW THEY HAVE COOTIES