#we need an animal crossing tv show

[perlamaritr1]

The plot of the Animal Crossing TV series:

Set in a dystopian future where humans coexist with sentient AI, a teenage cyborg accidentally finds the world’s last surviving video game and literally brings its adorable animal residents to life. Can his new fuzzy friends restore and save the entire planet from extinction?

[nayaesworld]

My favorite Dork

A/N: something short because this idea was stuck in my head for a complete week straight 😭..I hope yall enjoy🤭

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“You’re such a dork!”

“Mmcht..you said you liked it when I explained these things to you?” Terry turned and laid between your legs with his back turned to you as you stroked the short curls on his head. You loved listening to him blab to his heart's content about his favorite nerdy shows and topics. It made your coochie drip like a faucet when his sea green eyes lit up and that boyish grin found his face, it was so sexy and you had it all to yourself.

“I do, you're MY nerd. And if you said Eren Yeager had a right to let all those people die…I believe you bubby.” Terry had been hell bent on explaining Attack on Titans from beginning to end, making sure you understood every detail minor and large. He had a cute obsession with the show and the shelves in his room were lined with figurines, his closet had hoodies with his other favorite animes on them, and his watchlist on his tv was filled with new and old shows.

“All you gotta understand is that Eren is that nigga, and he was destined for this shit…end of story.” His voice elevated with excitement and his shirtless body was warm against your legs. You tapped his shoulder signaling him to lean up. Your sticky arousal was becoming uncomfortable in your panties and you needed to catch your breath to try and settle your horny thoughts.

“I need to go to the restroom bubby I’ll be right back.” You stood up from the bed pulling the pink sleep romper from between your heavy cheeks. A heavy smack on your right cheek had you spinning around quickly to face your best friend, a silly smirk on his mischievous face.

“I don't know why you walk around in this…why are you tempting me when you know you can’t handle this dick?” A tiny gasp left your mouth and your mouth sat open for a while thinking of a comeback.

“Me tempting you, Terry you tempt me often trust me…plus it’s not that I couldn’t handle it, you’re just so big. I’ve never tried to take anything that big before and I’ll admit I chickened out so what.” You rolled your chocolate eyes at him and crossed your arms. You were more than down for the dick at the time but seeing it and taking it was two complete different things.

“You know I had to jerk off to your panties that night…I was so horny that night when you left. And your panties were still so soaked I-I couldn’t let all that juice go to waste so I used it.” Your head was spinning at this point and you could barely stare him in his face after his confession.

His tall body sat on the edge of the bed, bulky arms reaching for her waist and pulling her into his open legs.

“Remember those FaceTime calls we used to do..I miss those, I wish we never stopped them.” You sighed and looked down at him. When the two of you were separate from each other masturbating on FaceTime was the go to…you’d get all wet and leak all over your bed from his deep velvet voice and moans.

“Terry I was in a relationship at the time, that’s why we stopped them… I thought he was a good guy and I didn’t want to risk what we were building.” He snorted at that and rubbed along the backside of her thighs.

“Yeah and that ended with me whooping his ass…y/n you’ll always have me I need you to understand that. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me to.”

“And I’ll always thank you for beating his ass, he was a dick and you protected me regardless of how you felt about our relationship..I love you bubby.” You leaned down to trail kisses across his face trailing them eagerly to his ear.

“When you nerd out and get all excited it makes me so wet. Do you know how many nights I had to go home and stuff my pussy because of you..and you were just so oblivious to it all, how I’d encourage you to keep talking.”

“All these years I’ve been sitting here yapping and you were turned on by it…you’re a tease you know that right?”

“It was my dirty little secret..it was innocent on your end but I was just being a freak. I wanna try something new, if you’re up for it.” His pretty green eyes held hers in a suspicious glare.

“What you trying to get into peaches?” Oh he was not playing fair.

“Oh now I’m peaches again, boy you are so sneaky. Now listen up..I’ve always had this fantasy I wanted to act out with you. I always wanted to jerk off a nerd and listen to him blab about his interests, I’ve wanted that nerd to be you for a long time.”

“You know you my peaches when you get nasty, and I’ll fulfill whatever fantasy you want…there’s lube in my top drawer.” You shook with excitement and bounded to his sleek black dresser to retrieve the bottle of pineapple flavored lube.

Your hands worked to unbutton the top of your romper. Double D titties bouncing as you positioned yourself on your knees in front of Terry to give him a perfect view of your plentiful breast. Your hands ran over his black netted basketball shorts, his heavy bulge making a tent in them. Eager to get your hands on the monster you motioned for him to pull them down just enough for you to work your magic. Your heavy breast kept him occupied as you squeezed a hefty amount of lube into your hands.

“Is there something new that you’ve been interested in bubby?” Your hands saturated his shaft in the flavored lube as you stared up at him expectantly.

His fingers twirled a taut nipple before he answered. “Mhmh…a show on Netflix based on a book I read. It-It’s about a mutant’s journey to protect his child surprise…fuck squeeze my tip. Yesss.” One hand sat firmly at his base, the other tightly wrapped around the leaking head.

“I like how you’re two different colors…prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. Keep talking, I wanna know more.” Lips now placing kisses lightly to the pulsing appendage.

“He tries to help her uncover her powers and hone them while building her trust…creating a bond with her. Fuckkk peaches hmm…suck it harder uh huh, now open wider let me fuck this throat.”

Mouth wide and tongue out, you welcomed nine inches of pineapple flavored dick down your throat. His toes ground into the carpet as he found his footing to serve mouth watering strokes to your mouth. Saliva dripped down your chin to your breast as his balls slapped your chin.

“I want this pussy next and I don’t want no excuses…shake your head yess.” your greedy hands tugged softly on his heavy sack and you shook your head up and down.

“If you can throat it you can take it right?” This time he nodded your head for you, too impatient to wait for your response.

“Y/N is scared of dick…but not peaches huh? Peaches takes dick she don’t run from it, ain't that right?” You were beyond turned on, freaked out, and now you were letting him hype you into taking nine inches of pulsating dick. No more running from the dick.

“If you nut before me you owe me a trip to Sephora…you better hold out big boy.”

Nerdy dick was the best dick…that point you couldn’t argue

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@becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @blyffe @23jammy @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @blackmoonchilee @tvchi @blackerthings

[miguelhugger2099]

Puppy Love

Summary: Gabriella wants a puppy! Miguel doesn’t. You convince him. Kinda. Not really. Art: Spinkee on Deviantart (quality is booty but i couldn't find another miguel with a dog hah)

Miguel x Reader, Pure Fluff that’s it.

“No. No, no, no, ningún perro.” Miguel shakes his head at Gabriella, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

His daughter is on her knees on the floor, looking up at her father on the couch with her hands clasped together. She falls on her back dramatically.

“Pero porque nooooo?!” She whines and Miguel sighs, rubbing his temples with one hand and dragging it down his face. He watches Gabriella complain and pound her fists and feet on the floor.

“Ah-ah-ah! Nada de eso.” He says sternly and Gabriella huffs, sitting back up with her legs crossed. She pouts angrily at him to show her fury but all Miguel sees is his baby girl throwing a tantrum.

“Gabi, mija, you’re not even gonna take care of it. Who’s gonna clean up the poop and pee, huh? It’s gonna be me.”

“Papi, I’ll take good care of it! I promise! Pinky promise!” She whimpers, scooting closer and tugging on his pant leg.

“Dije que no, Gabriella. Deja de chillar.” Miguel doesn’t even look down at her, his stress levels heightened after Gabriella had been asking for a pet dog for weeks now.

Gabriella’s face scrunches up, her tiny features contorting unpleasantly as tears well up in her eyes. “MAMI!” She cries, getting up and stomping away from Miguel in the living room to barge in your room where you were folding her clothes.

Gabriella faceplants in the bed, screams muffled as she flails her limbs wildly in frustration.

You pick up one of her clean shirts and fold it neatly in a growing pile. “What happened this time?” You ask her, taking a quick glance up to see Gabriella had moved her face to the side, cheeks flushed red with anger.

“Papi won’t let us have a puppy.”

“Gabi, my love, a puppy is a big responsibility.” Your daughter groans and flips on her back, watching you do her laundry.

“But, Mami, I'm not a baby anymore! I’m ten years old! Ten! I’ll be so responsible! Tell Papi that he won’t need to do anything!”

Once you’re finished folding, you place a hand on your hip and raise your eyebrow down at her. “Papi said no so we’re not getting a puppy, Gabi. Not now.”

“Mami, please!”

“Take these to your room, my love.” You hand the folded pile to her and she begrudgingly takes it. She hops off the bed and goes into her room where she shuts herself in for the rest of the day.

You meet Miguel in the living room, TV volume lowered of a faint cheer of futbol fans during a game. Curling up on his side, he welcomed you with his arm around you, tucking you closer and getting more comfortable with a heavy sigh.

“Maybe we should get a puppy.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel groans, his head rolling back and you look up at him with amusement. “Not you too.”

“We have the funds! I don’t see why we can’t have a little pet around here to keep Gabi occupied.” You place your hand on his chest, rubbing in little circles.

Miguel’s head tilts towards you. “It’s not the funds I’m worried about. I know as soon as that dog comes in, all Gabi’s gonna do is play with it and I’m stuck cleaning it’s shit.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby. It’s our baby girl we’re talking about. Our princess.” You coax him but he’s firm on his stance.

“No. Dogs and all those animals belong outside. So they’ll stay outside and never in my damn house.” He trains his eyes back on the screen.

“You’re so stingy.” You pout and cuddle up to him, head resting on his shoulder.

“She can get a dog when she moves out which is never.” Miguel grumbles, lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Remember: Don’t tell Papi how much we spent.” You remind Gabriella, giving her a pointed look with your index finger over your lips. 

Gabriella beams with happiness, nodding vigorously as she holds a brand new puppy in her arms. A little black pitbull sniffing the air and wagging its tail from left to right, matching the girl’s excitement.

You open the door and Gabriella places the dog down gently. The puppy sniffs the floor and huffs through its nose, getting familiar with its new home. It quickly sneezes and sniffs through everything, half of its body being swung around with its tail. It gives a small yip and its jumps around, wanting to play.

Gabriella is ecstatic! She chases the puppy around, taking toys from a bag and throwing it. “C’mere Princess!”

You slump on the couch, peering in the bag of pet supplies for a baby dog that Miguel would definitely not be happy about.

Gabriella runs around with the puppy for hours before passing out after a day of play. While placing pee pads in the corner of the living room, You hear the door unlock.

Your lovely and blissfully unaware husband hangs his keys in the hook, shrugging off his coat. “Hola, mi amor.” He greets you. 

You welcome him with a hug and a kiss, one he hums in delight. His arms go around your waist and he bends down for another kiss. “How was your day?” You ask him, lips brushing against his.

Miguel sighs. “Fine. Could be…better…” He trails off after hearing unfamiliar footsteps and a bark.

Miguel turns his head to the side to see a little pitbull running up to him and barking, thinking he’s an intruder! Princess circles around him, sniffing and sneezing with her snout, darting this way and that way before looking up at him with a ‘smile’. All she’s really doing is baring her teeth.

Miguel stares blankly at the dog. “You didn’t.”

You grin up at him, wincing. “I did.” You stop him when he groans your name, a lecture on the tip of his tongue. “Princess is already here and Gabi is just so happy.”

“You named it already?” He rolls his head back, hand coming up to cover his eyes in disbelief. He pulls away from you, a pout on his lips. “I’m not taking care of it. You keep that thing away from me.”

“Miguel, now you’re just being dramatic.” You place your hands on your hips. Princess continues to sniff at Miguel’s legs and he shoos her away.

“Mama, listen. I'm not walking or feeding or playing or cleaning it’s shit. That’s for Gabi to do. Whatever it needs, it’s not my problem.”

Miguel kept most of his promise. That was until you went weekly grocery shopping with him on the weekend. While you were finding the meats, you told Miguel to grab the seedless green grapes that Gabriella wanted.

He came back with the grapes and a dogs chew toy. It was a plain bone with ridges around the middle. He tosses it in the cart and hangs by your side. You glance at the toy and then Miguel.

“Why?” You ask. Miguel takes a grape from the box and eats it. Mid-chew, he answers you.

“For the dog. She’s chewing on my shoes.” 

“Uh-huh…” You nod, unconvincingly. Miguel ignores the way you don’t believe him, his hands grabbing the handle of the cart and moving without you. 

The next time is when Miguel comes home from work, dropping his work bag to the floor and tossing his coat on the arm of the couch. He sits with a loud groan, flipping his shoes off. 

The scratches of Princess’s nails scurry down the stairs and rushes towards Miguel, pawing at his pants. 

Miguel leans down and rubs her back a bit before patting her. Princess tumbles to the ground and rolls on her back, huffing while her tongue slips off to the side. “Hey, Princess.” He mutters, patting her over and over again. Princess tries to gnaw on his hand, still growing out her sore canines and Miguel tsks slipping his hand off her. “Okay, okay, ya, ya!” 

Princess rolls back on her stomach, unphased by Miguel’s snapping. She then sits up and jumps so her front paws are on the couch seat and Miguel shoves her paws off. 

“No! Not on the couch! You have a bed!” 

You approach with Miguel’s dinner, him taking the plate from you appreciatively. You then stare down at Princess, her beady black eyes looking between you and the food on Miguel’s plate.

“You just ate, Princess. Go. Bed.” You command and she walks off to her little round fuzzy bed, collapsing on it and rests her head on her paws. She looks between you and Miguel again, her eyes become more and more cute in hopes of some extra food.

“You taught her stuff?” Miguel asks after taking giant bites of your cooking. You sit on a chair by the couch, resting your feet on the coffee table in the middle.

“Me and Gabi.” You hum and turn on the TV to a novela that you and Miguel both liked. 

Miguel grunts. “Quick learner.” He mutters. 

The other time is when you woke up and couldn’t find Princess. You knew Miguel was on his run so she couldn’t have escaped so she must’ve been hiding. But where?

You searched high and low before Gabriella woke up in the morning for playtime. A deep pit of worry in your stomach began to brew, the thought that Princess might’ve escaped somehow. 

While making your own breakfast, you hear the front door open and a loud bark, followed by loud panting. You leave your breakfast, moving over to peek at the front door to see Miguel huffing and puffing and Princess on the ground equally exhausted but her leash around her body. 

“You took Princess?” You ask, placing a hand on your chest in relief. You wouldn’t face a ten year olds tantrum today. 

“I thought Princesa could use an actual workout instead of twenty minute playtime with Gabi and—“ Miguel sighs again, wiping sweat off his forehead and fanning himself with the front of his loose white tank top. “Jesus, she has energy.”

“Princesa?” You ask with a raised brow.

“What?” He sniffs. “It’s still Princess. Don’t be weird.” You put your hands up in defense but he quickly surrounds his sweaty arms around you.

“Ew! No!” You laugh and try to leave him embrace. Miguel pressed a loud obnoxious kiss to your temple. The sound of the kiss making Princess jump up and start barking. She lunges at you both, using her force to push you enough to take a step back. 

She continues to bark and whine, nudging herself between you and Miguel’s legs. Miguel lets go of you which makes Princess jump up as high as possible to Miguel. He leans down and pats her body all around. 

“Alright, alright! I’m gonna shower.” He laughs and leaves another pat to her head before giving you a proper soft kiss to your forehead. 

But what really solidified Princess as an O’Hara was when Gabriella had a mini talent show in front of Miguel.

With one hand she held a treat. Her other hand did commands for the tutu wearing dog.

“Sit!” Gabriella said. Princess followed.

“Spin!” Princess spun.

“Roll over!” Princess stood still.

“Roll over!” Gabriella tried again. Princess tilted her head. Gabriella faces her father. “That one is still a little new.” She frowns but Miguel chuckles. He pats the seat beside him and Gabriella giggles, jumping into his arms.

Princess barks, feeling left out and tries to jump in as well. 

“No, no, no! Bed!” Miguel shakes his head, commanding her while trying to push her off and Gabriella helps her up. 

“Papi! Just let her do this one time!” Princess whines when Gabriella tugs on her front limbs.

“Gabi, no! The couch is gonna smell like dog!” 

Princess lands on the couch, her body having grown a little bit bigger after these few weeks. She places all her weight down on Miguel’s lap, tumbling down to lay down on top of Miguel and Gabriella’s lap. Gabriella tries to move but can’t so she laughs.

“She’s getting heavier!” 

Miguel groans. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” 

Princess tilts her head up, her tongue coming out to lick his neck and face. Miguel stops her. “Eww!” And Gabriella breaks into laughter.

After a while, Miguel stays up watching TV, Gabriella and Princess both asleep in his lap, Gabis arm around Princess. 

You come from outside your shared bedroom and yawn. With your slippers you shuffle into the living room and see all three of them huddled up together. 

“You’re still here?” You ask, another yawn escaping you. 

Miguel looks at you and then his two girls in his arms. “They were so tired.” He mumbles softly.

You sigh and shake your head. He could be soft about his daughter and dog another day. Not in the middle of the night. “No. C’mon. Take Gabriella to bed.”

A/N: Heavily inspired by my own parents teehee

[violetarks]

“baby keep talking, but nobody’s listening!”

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: gojo satoru, choso, fushiguro toji

summary: they find you on a date with someone they've never seen before, but they don't need to look for long to see how bored you were. deciding for you that it would be the first and only date you ever went on with that man, they come to your rescue.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, reader is on a date with a man, said date sucks ass (trying to regulate what y/n eats, snarky comments, egotistical, rude to hospitality workers), shoko/itadori/shiu help set you up on a date but they suck at it

↣ gojo satoru

"satoru, you have to get out," you huff at him, crossed arms over your chest. he sat on your cough, flicking through tv channels. "my date is coming here in ten minutes!"

"you mean the stranger that shoko met at the mall and said would 'totally be your type'?" he says, looking over his shoulder to you. you raise a brow. "c'mon, blow him off. we need to finish 'the last of us'!"

"don't you dare watch it while i'm gone, satoru, or god so help me—" your phone rings, interrupting your threat. you answer when you see the number of your date. "hello? oh, yes, this is y/n."

you begin to walk to grab your keys and your bag, satoru following after you when you suddenly stop.

"oh, uh... you want to meet there?" you say, tilting your head, "no, that's fine, i'll leave now. see you—..."

"he's not coming to pick you up?" satoru questions, watching as you take out your car keys.

"he's actually already there. and he's ordered for me." you say with a bit of doubt in your voice. satoru can hear it. "it's fine, i should go now. don't you dare watch that show, i will kill you. see you, satoru."

the whole time you're gone, he can’t do anything. he’s sitting in silence for an hour, not even looking at his phone. he felt angry at himself.

so he followed you, obviously.

he looked up the restaurant you had mentioned to him before and saw the pictures posted online. it looked like such a nice first date place. and that boiled even more jealousy in him. of course he had to follow you.

and luckily he did; you looked miserable.

he takes out his phone as soon as possible.

“you know how many calories are in that meal?” your date said after the waiter left your table, “way better for you than what you wanted.”

you had just told him your favourite dish in the menu. and he told you he ordered you just a salad. while he got two meals because he was ‘bulking’.

when shoko showed you his instagram, you had to admit that he was cute. he was fit too, and you did your fair share of exercise. he had a nice smile and he also posted photos of his dog. but that couldn’t shield you from what was right in front of you.

you found out he was a model for a magazine you’ve never heard of, and while that was impressive, it was his whole personality. you asked about his pet, and he somehow turned it back to his career and how he did a fireman themed calendar last year. you’d think he was surely more than that, but it didn’t seem it. you had barely talked about yourself. it didn’t look like he was interested anyway.

“hm, what did i do today?” he thought out. you cringed at the way he tapped his chin, pretending to think. “i hit the gym at 5am, walked my pet for an hour and a half, took some photos for my resume since i’ve got a new deal coming up, and spent time from then to now just at the studio.”

you were waiting for him to ask about your day. he doesn’t.

“and you know, i’m actually the most valued model at my studio. they always call me for shoots, i’m always first on their list. you’d think i could catch a break every so often,” he chuckles out, rubbing up and down his arms. you hold back from rolling your eyes as you sip your water. “but it’s hard being so… handsome.”

you stare at him and fight the urge to roll your eyes once again.

"what about you?" the moment you've waited for comes a little too late. you're not even interested in speaking about yourself.

"well, i did some grocery shopping this morning—"

"what did you buy?"

"me and my friends are having a movie tomorrow, so i just bought some snacks for us," you explained for some reason, "chocolates, popcorn, chips—"

"junk food?" he scoffs back, "no, no, you don't need all that. you oughta' bring it back and get some fruit. way better for you."

you down the rest of your alcoholic drink you had ordered (the one thing he did let you choose) and look away.

that is when you feel a hand rest on your upper back.

"excuse me, ma'am," you look up and widen your eyes when you see satoru standing before you. he's wearing a white button-up, black slacks, dress shoes and a black waist apron. you freeze up. "the gentleman over there asked me to give you this, already paid for."

you look over to where he was pointing. nanami sits in his own suit as he waves his hand at you, pained smile. satoru places a mojito in front of you. your date stands up.

"the hell? doesn't he see that i'm here?" he scoffs as he stands up. his chair screeches against the floor, which collects everyone's attention in the restaurant. "he's insulting me! what a prick! i'm gonna fuck him up!"

"hey!" you stand up as he begins trudging over. satoru places a hand on your shoulder to stop you, and you see nanami roll his eyes and stand up as well, ready for the fight. "what are you two doing here? and why are you dressed like that?"

"i'm the ultimate undercover agent, of course," he replies. he begins pulling off his apron and dropping it on your seat. he hooks his arm with yours and smiles. "let's get outta' here."

"but my date—"

"he's fine," you watch as nanami dodges one of his punches with and irritated face. "nanami will take care of him."

you let him whisk you out of the restaurant while everyone is watching the two men fight (not really). satoru walks you to his car and starts the engine. you see nanami's car behind his.

"did you seriously bring him along to get me out of that date?" you chuckle as you stare at him. satoru purses his lips and looks away. "thank you, satoru. you didn't have to."

"you're welcome, gorgeous," he responds to you, "i could tell from the phone call that he wasn't all that. wonder what barrel they fished him out of."

you let out a small sigh and look out the window. you were embarrassed; this was the first date you've ever been set up on, and it went horribly. you knew you should've left earlier, not wait until satoru came along. he was your saviour for today, you had to admit.

but what was even worse, you seemingly let than man talk to you like that. you could chalk it up to just being friendly and giving him the best benefit of the doubt, but deep down you know you would never have let that slide with people you know. hell, yaga could speak to you that way and you would still give him an earful.

"don't be sad, y/n, now we can go to yours and watch our show," satoru attempts to cheer you up. he flashes you a smile. "i promise, i won't eat all your food."

"you're a liar, satoru." you laugh back.

"seriously though, that guy was a wreck. why did he keep talking about calories and stuff?" he mumbles out with a disapproving shake of his head, "i had to shut him up somehow. i should've just spilt the drink over him."

"oh god, what about the food? i didn't pay for my meal."

"you mean the salad you didn't want? i cancelled it for ya'."

"why aren't you this nice all the time? you usually bully me." you claim in a joking matter. satoru pouts at you. "i appreciate this, a lot. i guess guys who only ever think about themselves aren't my type."

there's a quietness in the car as he turns on his indicator. you enjoy the little noise coming from the radio, a song that you've heard quite a lot.

"you know, yuuji, nobara and megumi?" he clears his throat.

"yeah?" you respond to him in confusion.

"yeah," he hums with a nod of his head, "i think 'bout them a lot. they're good kids."

"they are," you agree with him. it takes you a few seconds before you look at him again. "satoru, that's not what i meant."

"so am i your type?"

"oh my god."

"answer the question, y/n."

↣ choso

"yuuji?"

"yeah?"

"do you know who this is?" choso shoves his phone into his brother's face.

"uh, that's y/n." yuuji responds in a bit of confusion. the two of them were sitting in a new restaurant with ramen on their tables. choso’s sat nearly untouched for the past ten minutes as he flicked through some pictures you sent to a groupchat with him in it. yuuji was halfway through chewing noodles when choso asked him about the photo you sent a few minutes ago. “why? she looks good.”

“no doubt,” choso mutters in response as he zooms in on the other figure in the picture you took of your reflections in the window, “i mean him.”

“oh, that’s the guy who me, nobara and y/n saw last week at the movies,” yuuji responds, “he asked y/n for her number, so i think they’re out together right now.”

he looks at yuuji in disbelief as the pink-haired boy starts slurping on the soup. it takes him a few seconds to properly react.

“are you serious?” choso says a little loudly. people turn to stare at the pair. “you let him get her number?”

“what? he seemed cool and y/n didn’t seem to mind that i gave it to him.” yuuji holds his hands up in defense as choso angrily glares at the photos on his phone screen. “you said you weren’t gonna’ make a move on her anyway!”

“that doesn’t—” a groan leaves his lips as choso holds his head. he lets in a deep breath. “okay, it’s fine.”

“i’m sorry, choso.”

“no, it’s my fault, i did say i wasn’t going to ask her out,” he tells yuuji, who slowly goes back to eating, “i… i missed out, i guess.”

yuuji frowns as the guy in front of him sadly eats his food.

“you know…” he begins with a small smile. choso looks up to him. “they’re just out for lunch nearby. y/n told me where they were going. we could—”

“yuuji! hurry up!” choso has grabbed his jacket and is rushing to the door before yuuji can reply, “we might miss them!”

yuuji scurries out of restaurant after he gobbles down his ramen. it isn’t too far of a drive, actually. it took about 15 minutes to get there and choso had easily spotted your car in front of a cozy cafe. he parks next to it and almost ducks when be notices you in the chair facing the window, facing the two of them, with your date sitting in the booth — your favourite spot. choso always let you sit in the booth side.

choso clutched onto the steering wheel with gritted teeth. yuuji looked towards you to get a better view.

“huh… she looks annoyed.” yuuji points out.

“this guy…” choso grunts.

inside the cafe, you had taken a few photos of your food and your drink. you’re glad yuuji suggested this place, you loved the service and the food here. the servers were always so nice and helpful and quick, and the food was amazing too.

it was obvious to you that your date didn’t think the same.

“god, everything in here is so…” he begins as he examines the design on his waffles. he cringes a little. “girly.”

“it’s just a bunny design,” you point out as you sadly stir the cat-shaped foam into your hot drink, “it’s cute.”

“it’s embarrassing,” he reiterates. you purse your lips and sip your drink. the delicious taste was enough to make you forget his sour tone. until he speaks up again. “can’t believe your friend told us to go here.”

“i love this cafe,” you state, “everyone here is so nice.”

“the service is slow and they gave me the blueberry waffles instead of the normal ones like i said,” he complains. you set your drink down and hold back from rolling your eyes. “i don’t care how busy you are, you always check five times that the order is correct.”

you don’t even reply to him after that, only trying to enjoy your meal that you paid for. he wasn't helping at all. you thought that because he was so charismatic when talking to yuuji that he was probably a good catch, but you couldn't have been more wrong. maybe he was just putting up a front in order to score you. you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover anymore.

"hey. over here," he begins to snap his fingers and nodding at a server with four full plates of food. the guy looks over frantically, obviously under pressure. "i wanna' ask you something."

"ah, right, give me a second, sir—" the guy was trying to distribute the food with the customers who he was serving.

"i told you, slow service," your date scowls towards you. could you be any more embarrassed right now? the server finishes off his task before coming over to you two. before he can even ask, your date is holding up a nearly empty cup of coffee. "this is the most bitter coffee i have ever had in my whole entire life."

"oh, well, you ordered an americano, sir," the poor server explains, "they tend to be bitter."

"what? no, no, no," the guy in the booth starts shaking his head, "i ordered a flat white."

"you..." the server begins. he was the one who had taken your order too.

"you ordered the americano, actually," you pointed out. the guy raised a brow at you, unamused. "it's okay, you can just order a flat white—"

"god, i did not order an americano." he claims.

but you distinctly remember him saying 'americano' for his drink. and the server repeated the order back to him before it was confirmed annoyedly. you stare down at his nearly empty cup.

"y'know what? just put the flat white on the tab, i will pay for it." you sigh out as you rub your neck.

your date looks more pissed off as the server leaves.

"he was wrong, you don't have to pay for another drink." he mutters out.

"it's nothing, don't worry." you retort and stare back down at your food. you didn't have an appetite anymore and a few minutes pass in silence.

the flat white comes out after such a long time of waiting. your date drinks it quietly, but you notice that he makes a face to show he doesn't like it. you quickly excuse yourself to go and pay at the counter for your food (he insisted on splitting the bill since he didn't like the place) so that you don't have to hear him bicker about it.

"hey," you turn behind you to see choso standing there in a baggy hoodie, a bit nervous, "fancy seeing you here..."

your eyes flicker to outside, where you see yuuji waving at you from choso's car. a smile lands on your face.

"nice to see you, choso," you mutter back as you fish out your wallet. the cashier rings up your total and you press your card to the reader. "how was your lunch with yuuji?"

"good. we cut it short to save you," he bluntly says. you blink as he glares at your date. "i don't like the guy you're with."

"me neither," you sigh out, "i think this is the last time i'll see him. but i gotta' tough it out for the rest of the date."

"you could just leave now." choso adds. he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"ah... i'm not that confident—"

"a takeaway box and takeaway cup, please," choso asks the cashier. she had been sitting there and silently agreeing with you that the guy you were sitting with was a total jerk. "thank you."

he places them in your hands and pushes you gently towards the table.

"who the hell is this guy?" your date scoffs and glares at choso, who does the same back.

"look, i'm not really having a good time on this date," you say as you play with the takeaway boxes. choso hastily takes them from you and fills it with your food in an organised matter. "i think this is the farthest we go. please enjoy the rest of your food, though."

"you serious? ditching me for some jackass?" he accusingly points at choso who wears a shit-eating grin on his face. "this is bullshit!"

"calm down, god..." you groan and rub your temple, "i just don't like you, you're so rude."

"me? you're the one who dragged me to this shithole!"

"shut your mouth before i drop you right now," choso scowls as he pushes the guy back into the booth seat. everyone was watching now, quietly thanking choso for showing up and dealing with him. "grow up, man. you act like a child."

choso grabs your hand and tugs you out of the cafe. you both thank the service with your takeaway in hand. yuuji gets out of the car with a wide smile once you two get closer.

"so, how did it go?" he asks with wide eyes.

you throw your keys at his chest.

"you're driving my car back to my apartment as punishment for setting me up with that asshole," you say with a small frown. you all knew you didn't really blame him, though. "never giving my number out to anyone ever again."

yuuji apologises thoroughly before getting into your car and driving off in the wrong direction. choso opens your door and gives you the food. once he's inside the car himself, he starts it up and begins driving.

you rest a hand over choso's on the middle console.

"thanks, choso," you sigh out, "i should've done that earlier."

"it's fine, y/n, i just wished i came sooner." he replies.

you stare at the side of his face, how irritated he looked just thinking about your date. a smile settles onto your lips and you brush your thumb over his knuckles. he falters and looks back to you for a second before muttering a 'what'.

"i'll take you out for dinner as a thank you," you state, which makes his ears go red, "you're a sweetheart, choso."

"i... uh, yeah, i'll go out with you," he mutters, "thanks..."

the laugh you let out is worth ruining thousands of your dates.

↣ fushiguro toji

"have you ever been to france?" the conceited finance guy in front of you asks, fixing his tie. he wears this smirk on his face that proves that he just knows how rich he was. he wasn't coy at all. you force a smile and shake your head slowly, trying to enjoy your meal at least. "really? that's a shame. i've been plenty of times before, and i've gotta say, the best part is..."

you begin to zone out, sighing to yourself as you move your pasta around on your plate haphazardly. he had chosen such a nice italian restaurant to absolutely ruin your perception of this guy after the first ten minutes of talking to him. you look to your watch, showing it had been only two hours since your date started.

cursing out shiu in your head, you cautiously look out the window to the sky. it wasn't that dark yet, but it felt like your night had been taken away. your mind wanders to yesterday to your conversation with shiu.

shoe

you're getting picked up at 5 tomorrow

y/n

am or pm?

shoe

???

shoe

don't show him how stupid you are, he's a rich guy. maybe he'll bring you to a yacht

y/n

why would i want to be on a yacht for our first date? is he nice?

shoe

he's rich, y/n. that's all that matters.

sometimes, you wonder how he managed to meet all these people. but then you remember that assholes attract assholes. they move together in flocks.

you stare at your red wine and tap your finger on your cheek.

"what do you think about it?" he questions, getting your attention again. you look up to see his smug face. did he really want to know?

"oh, me?" you asks, sitting up straight. you had no idea what he had been saying for the past 15 minutes.

"well, who else would i be talking to, silly?" he says in this mocking tone.

'yourself, it's who you've been talking to all night', you internally say. you had wasted such a nice outfit too. it was such a shame.

"mmm, well, it's a bit—" you begin, only to get interrupted.

"it's insane, isn't it? how could you lose so much money in only a year?" he barks out a laugh, as obnoxious as he was. the table shakes as he bangs his fist against it, waiters and guests looking towards you two. "it's absolutely preposterous! i would never make such a decision like that."

you chew out an awkward laugh before turning to your wine, sipping it.

unknowingly to you, toji was waiting in the car outside the building, getting a good view of you and your new date. he cursed shiu in a huff; not only did he set you up with someone, but the guy was a total prick. he couldn't have done a worse job, and he was broke. he pulled his seat back, watching him with pointed eyes. that guy's mouth hadn't stopped moving ever since you entered the restaurant.

and you? you looked gorgeous, your dress hugged you just right, so much so that he was jealous. toji knows it should've been him to go and take you somewhere like this.

he snaps when the guy calls the waiter over, complaining about his half-eaten food and causing a scene. you looked so uncomfortable. standing up, you excused yourself to the bathroom. and toji is quick to get out of the car.

"he's such an asshole." toji claims as you exit the ladies room. you freeze, pressing out the creases of your dress before walking closer to him at the end of the hall.

"when did you get here?" you ask, hand on your hip, "and how do you know he's an asshole?"

"been watchin' the whole time from the car," he tells you, watching as you widen your eyes and tilt your head at him, "what? couldn't help myself. shiu said you were on a date with some rich guy, 'n i had to see it."

"yeah, well, remind me to kill shiu. he's got the worst taste in men." you sigh out, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall with him. he peers at you. "you know he asked to try every single wine they had before we ordered? and he complained about the merlot not being darker. not only that, he saw my plate and said 'are you gonna' eat all of that?'. the dickhead!"

"that shit looked good." he commented, shaking his head, "who wouldn't finish that food."

"right? ugh, i hate him so much. and he hasn't even asked me about myself other than my name. he explained to me his 'entrepreneurship' and dropshipping. wanted to clock him in the face." you complained more, only fueling toji's own hate for the man.

he lifts himself off the wall, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. "go 'n get your things. we're gettin' out of here."

"what? what am i supposed to say to him?" you mumble, stumbling behind him, "where are we going?"

"don't say anything to him. if ya' feel bad, pay for your own food." he explains to you, hand moving to rest on your back, "i'm not lettin' you waste that pretty little dress on someone like that guy."

you stare at the back of his head before falling into step with him, stopping at the table with your date. he does a double take once he sees toji, slowly standing up.

"who's he?" he asks, scanning him up and down.

"none of your business." toji retorts, looking down at him.

you begin to grab your purse when he holds out his hand to you. "where the hell are you going?" your date asks you.

"here. for my food." you say, handing him a fifty. the note flutters onto the table in front of him, which he stares at in awe. tugging on your jacket, you stare back at him with furrowed brows. "good luck in life."

with that, you turn around and begin to walk to the exit. behind you, toji sticks his tongue out at the other man and follows after. his hand finds your back once more and you wait to cross the road, sighing out to him, "thank you, toji. saved me."

"no problem." he replies, opening the door for you.

"how did you get in my car?" you ask, sitting in the driver's seat.

"don't ask." he tosses you the keys, making you wonder even more. he gets into the other side, looking back at you. “we’ll hit up that restaurant downtown. the one you always talk about wanting to go to.”

“but you said you don’t like their cuisine.” you claim, starting the car.

“it’s the only place i know that’s fancy.” he explains, looking out the window.

“sweetheart, i wouldn’t say that’s fancy—”

“do you want to go out or not?”

you laugh, reaching out a hand and holding his. he gives a small smile before looking back at you. “thank you, toji.” you say, stopping at a red light. you glance at him, sincere look in your eyes. “it means a lot that you care.”

“jus’ saving you from being stupid as fuck.” he tells you, making you roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, “could ya’ not tell he was a tool when he didn’t knock at your door? motherfucker waited in his car.”

“my god, you’ve been watching since then? toji!” you jokingly reprimand, looking at him for a split second, "i should've known from the start though... he was on his phone the whole time, in the car ride. on bluetooth speaker too."

"i woulda' jumped out the car." he retorts, shaking his head, "we should jump shiu."

"we really should." you laugh, smiling at him, "maybe for our next date."

toji can't help but roll his eyes. he knows deep down that you were hoping shiu was going to set you up with him instead. he can see it on your face, a smile that is pushing through on your lips. you're secretly happy that it was toji who 'ruined' your 'date'.

"i say that because i know you can't pay for dinner."

"did you think i was paying for this one?"

you scoff back, elbowing him, "you leech."

"you know you love me." he says it teasingly, but he knows better than anyone that you actually do.

[koyagifs]

𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓭𝓮

pairing: wooyoung x reader au: idol | best friends to lovers genre: fluff word count: 871 words summary: Waiting for Wooyoung to arrive home, you grew tired as he continued to yap. warning(s): -

You stretched out comfortably on the couch, the soft cushions enveloping you as you absently scrolled through your phone. The TV played in the background, a familiar variety show providing a light soundtrack to your wait. You couldn’t help but chuckle at some of the antics on screen, but your mind kept drifting to Wooyoung.

He had promised to stop by after his schedule, and you were excited to catch up. You imagined his easy smile and the way he always seemed to bring a bit of energy with him, no matter how tired he might be.

You glanced at the clock again, nearly midnight, wondering how much longer it would be. Just as you settled back into the couch, you heard a familiar voice coming from the TV, and for a moment, you thought of all the times you watched these shows together, laughing and sharing snacks.

As you began to doze off, the sound of your door unlocking stirred you awake once more. You quickly sat up, brushing your hair back and smoothing your clothes as you listened intently. The door creaked open, and there he was—slightly disheveled but beaming, a playful grin lighting up his face.

“Sorry I’m late!” he exclaimed, stepping inside with a bag of snacks in hand. “I thought I’d bring some midnight treats!”

A yawn escaped your lip, a smile still placed on your lip. “You know I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about me!”

Wooyoung chuckled, settling next to you. " now why i would forget when i was the one who suggest to hang out after my schedule."

You shrugged, grabbing a bag of chips

“True, true,” you replied, opening the bag with a satisfying crunch. The familiar sound mixed with the warmth of his presence made you feel instantly at ease. “But you know how it is—waiting can feel like forever.”

He laughed, leaning back on the couch, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I had to keep you on your toes! Plus, I had to make sure I brought the best snacks.” He nudged the bag closer to you, a playful challenge in his eyes.

You dug into the chips, savoring the salty crunch. “Okay, I’ll give you that. These are pretty great. But you still owe me a story from today!”

Wooyoung leaned in, his expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. “Ah, the infamous ‘what happened at work’ segment! You’re in for a treat.”

As he launched into his tale, you couldn’t help but smile, completely engrossed in his animated storytelling. As another yawn escaped your lip, Wooyoung looked at you with love.

" why don't we go to sleep hm?"

" no, finish your story Woo," you whined.

Wooyoung chuckled, pulling on your arms.

“Come on, you can hear all about my day in your dreams!” he teased, his eyes dancing with mischief as he tugged you gently toward him.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop you. “But what if I miss the best part? You can’t leave me hanging!”

He sighed dramatically, pretending to consider your plea. “Alright, alright. But if you fall asleep, I’m going to have to tickle you awake!”

“Deal,” you replied, playfully crossing your arms. “Just finish the story!”

Wooyoung grinned, leaning back as he resumed his tale, his voice animated and full of energy. As he spoke, you felt your eyelids growing heavier, but his enthusiasm was infectious. You tried to stay engaged, savoring the sound of his laughter and the way he effortlessly made even the mundane seem exciting.

Just as you felt yourself drifting again, he nudged you gently. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me! I need my best audience awake!”

You stifled a yawn and nodded, leaning closer to him for warmth. “Okay, okay! I’m awake. Tell me more about the ‘work adventure.’”

He launched into the next part of the story, and as you listened, the comfort of the moment wrapped around you like a soft blanket. Just as you shut your eyes, you felt a pair of lips on yours.

Quickly opening them, you found Wooyoung’s face just inches from yours, surprise and mischief dancing in his eyes. Your heart raced as you processed what had just happened.

“What was that?” you asked, a mix of shock and excitement bubbling up inside you.

Wooyoung shrugged playfully, his grin widening. “Just a little midnight snack of my own,” he teased, leaning back as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

Your cheeks flushed, and you could hardly think straight. “You can’t just kiss someone like that without warning!”

He laughed softly, his gaze softening. “I figured it was about time I made my move. Besides, you looked too cute dozing off.”

The air between you felt charged, and as your heart settled into a steady rhythm, you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he replied, leaning in again, this time brushing his lips against yours more gently. The kiss felt warm and inviting, sparking something deep within you. You leaned into it, losing yourself in the moment, the world outside forgotten.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 3

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 3

Word Count: 3599

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Chapter 3 is now up! Let's enjoy these simple interactions before everything becomes fun complicated, shall we?

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06

Masterlist

|Chapter 2| | |Chapter 4|

You barely sleep all night. Every moan or noise coming from your father wakes you up. If he grunts in pain, you are by his side in a second. You keep checking to see if he’s feverish, cold, asleep or awake, struggling or sleeping soundly…

You are even more exhausted than yesterday.

When the morning nurse comes to check on him, you excuse yourself to get some breakfast and to go to the property to check on the animals or see if Ace needs any help. You gulp down a huge cup of coffee before leaving, though, hoping that it gives you enough energy to handle the rest of the day.

When you get home, Ace tells you he has everything under control and you should just go rest. You don’t rest, but you take a well-deserved shower, change clothes, have breakfast, drink another big cup of coffee and go back to the hospital. You have this day off work as well and then it’s the weekend so you can stay by your father’s side the whole day. 

As you reach the hospital, you have another coffee and this time you feel it kick in as exhaustion is pushed to the back of your mind and you feel a bit more ready to tackle the day. 

“Hey, dad. I’m back.” You say as you enter the room and sit by the chair. “How do you feel?”

He grins. “Much better. The nurse bathed me.”

Your smile quickly turns into a frown. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, bug. And then she gave me some more drugs because my back was throbbing like hell, and now I’m suuuuuper fine.”

You want to keep giving him an annoyed look, but you can’t help but chuckle at his silliness. “You’re incorrigible dad.”

He nods and grabs the remote, leaving it on some news channel. “Bug, you look like shit.”

The frown is back on your face in the blink of an eye. “Dad!”

“Sorry, but you do! Have you slept?” His gaze leaves the TV to settle on you again.

“I… I… a bit!” You stammer. “But I drank coffee, I’m fine!”

“Your eye bags say otherwise.” He shrugs. “Lean back, bug. Sleep a little bit. Or go home. I’m fine.”

You shake your head, cross your arms and stare at the uninteresting show with the highlights of some football game. “I’m not sleepy.”

“How many coffees have you had?” His voice is stern so you avoid his gaze.

“Some.”

“Bug…”

“Three! I’m fine!” Then you fish a book from your purse and open it, clearly putting an end to the conversation. “Let me read.”

Shanks doesn’t press and you actually manage to read a few chapters uninterrupted. For about an hour before you’re overcome by yawns. Looking at the time, you decide to try and take a quick nap before Law comes over to check on your father. Just a quick shut-eye.

You close your book and are about to get comfortable when the door opens and Law comes in, effectively chasing away all semblance of sleep left. 

“Law!” Your dad exclaims, clearly still under the happy effect of the drugs. The doctor nods at him as he greets both of you and enters the room. His eyes linger on you, a slight crinkle between them as he takes in your state. 

Your dad said you look like shit and he's not the most attentive person on earth so… you really must be looking terrible. Dreadful enough for the handsome doctor to notice. 

“How are you both feeling today?” Shanks grins and gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Then Law says your name and you shrug, forcing a tired smile to form on your lips and mumbling a weak ‘fine’. “Maybe you should be resting. You know your father is fine and he's got the best care team looking out for him.”

Sighing, your smile turns real. “I know. But I need to be here for him. I need to know everything that’s going on and if I'm home alone, I'll just go crazy!”

That sly smirk tugs at his lips and he nods slowly. “It's a control thing, right? You just can't let go.” Your chest constricts and your breath hitches, the way he speaks those words… they bring such promises attached to them, it makes you want to let go, to surrender. But to what? 

To him? 

He keeps holding your stare. A piercing amber gaze that seems to bore straight into your soul, leaving your secrets bare and open for him to find and read them. 

“Let's check you out, shall we, Mr. S.?”

And as he examines your father, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and splash some water on your flaming cheeks. 

-*-

By the time you get back, Law is finished and the nurses are bringing lunch for your dad. Your stomach growls as it smells food - even though it's hospital food - and you wonder if you should eat a sandwich from the machine or at the hospital bar. 

Law says goodbye to your dad and intercepts you at the door. “Have lunch with me.” It's not a request. It's basically a command, the way he carries his low voice, a slight slur to the words. You want to say yes immediately, but you're frightened - and intrigued - by the hold this man has over you, so you shake your head. 

“I shouldn't.” But you don't elaborate. Because why shouldn't you? You like speaking with Law and he's not your doctor. He's your father's doctor, so there’s nothing inappropriate about a simple lunch. 

And he immediately sees through your facade. 

“You shouldn't, but you want to.” Fuck. “We'll just grab a quick bite. You need to eat. I'm alone, you're alone. It's perfect.”

It really is. 

“Go with him, bug!” Your dad sing-songs from his bed as the nurse helps him eat. 

“Butt out, dad! And eat the food by yourself! You're perfectly capable of doing it with one arm! You've been doing that practically my whole life.”

Law purses his lips but you can see the amusement in his eyes before he raises his eyebrows. “Come with me.” He says and you let out a big sigh. 

“Fine. Let me get my purse.” Entering the room, you glare at Shanks who keeps being fed by the nurse and tell him you won't be long. As you cross the mirror peeking at you from inside the bathroom, you frown and tell Law you'll meet him in five by the hospital entrance. Then you try your best to look presentable by combing your hair and fixing your clothes. It will have to do. 

-*-

“So you entered university two years earlier. You're a prodigy.” A smirk leaves your lips as you nibble your food. Conversation has been flowing smoothly between you both and you've learned that he lived with his uncles since he was ten until he entered university, because his parents passed - he didn't share how and you didn't press. He just added that information when you shared you were a child of divorce and were reconnecting with your father. 

You've been sharing professional and educational experiences and turns out Kaya was right. The man is a freaking genius. And you realise that that fact just turns his sexy points up by one thousand. You're so doomed. 

As he's about to answer you, his phone rings. He excuses himself and takes a look, then a frown and a deep scowl etch upon his face but he quickly dismisses it and sets the phone aside. Just for it to start ringing again. 

He sighs. “Sorry, I can't mute it because of the hospital and the clinic, but this is a bothersome call that I would rather not take.” Another sigh as the caller tries one more time. He excuses himself but doesn't get up to answer it. “I'm busy.” It's all he says, but you can sense him tense up, the mask of perfect control he usually holds crumbling slightly as he clenches his jaw with stress and tension. “Yes, I RSVP'd, didn’t I?” His throat bobs up and down and you try to focus on something else because you don't want to pry. “I don't know yet. Bye.

Law locks the phone with a grunt and sighs. “Sorry about that. It was my uncle.” You smile and nod. Could it have been Doflamingo? You noticed the way he talked about his uncle Rosinante - Cora - with a fondness in his words and kindness in his eyes, but he didn't elaborate on his relationship with the eldest uncle so it strikes you as somewhat strained. “Where were we?” He continues where you left off and you keep talking and getting acquainted. 

-*-

Lunch went by in the blink of an eye and, once again, you realise how simple and nice it is to speak with Law. He's very profound in many subjects, intelligent, clever, witty and with an odd sense of humour. The only thing you barely got a read on, was his emotions. He seems to guard the way he feels about things behind a well-crafted mask of control and assertion. And you have yet to take a peek behind it. 

Though his uncle calling him certainly got a rise out of him and they barely exchanged three sentences. 

Law walks you to the hospital and stops. He had said earlier that he was returning to the clinic for some appointments and then had surgery to perform before dinnertime. He promised to visit your dad before heading home, to see how he was doing. 

You start to feel exhaustion settling into your bones again, so you sip your coffee while nodding. 

“You can't fight exhaustion with coffee for too long. Get some rest. Your father’s fine. This is an order. A doctor's order.” He adds with a slight smirk. 

“I told you I don't follow all manner of instructions, Law.” He hums low and your knees tremble.

“I can see that.” He uses your name sternly and your eyes glint with amusement and desire. “We're still getting to know each other, but I'm sure you'll soon find out that following my instructions can be quite… rewarding.”

You can feel your pulse quicken as his amber gaze pierces, once again, so deep that it almost reaches your soul. 

“I'll think about it.” You say meekly and the semblance of a smirk he had before transforms into a deep grin. 

“Good.” He drags the word and you're left craving for more. Good girl, that's all you wanted to hear from his lips. He said it once. It was meant as a joke but the sound still echoes in your brain. Fuck. 

You're so doomed. 

-*-

When the sun begins to set on the horizon, you try to fight sleep so you can be awake for Law's last check-up before he leaves. But he said he was going to be in surgery so maybe the surgery ran late because he should've appeared by now. 

Your dad is engrossed in another football match and you can't focus on the words of your book anymore. You try to browse through your socials but easily lose interest. Games don't help either, so you decide to just lay your weary head down for a moment. 

You cross your arms on your father's bed and lay your head on them, your back stretching a bit from your sitting position on the chair but you have been bent for a while so it's a welcome stretch. 

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly. You don't even notice when sleep claims you. 

-*-

Law removes his contaminated scrubs and washes his hands. His surgery took much longer than planned and he hated that. He should be used to it by now, surgeries very rarely take the time they were meant to. And he always adjusts his plans according to that. But this one ran three hours late. 

And he promised you he'd check on your dad before he left for the day. 

And as much as he likes being in control, he hates to break promises. 

So he rushed his after-surgery routine, hoping you'd still be there by your father's side, waiting for him. 

You have an inexplicable hold on him. He can, at the same time, understand you as if you were an open book and yet be left wanting to learn more about who you are. He suspects there are parts of yourself still hidden from your own knowledge. 

And Law thrives on knowledge so he's very eager to learn all there is to know about you.

By the time he reaches your father's room, the lights are already dim and dinner has been served. His own stomach grumbles to remind him he should eat something too, but he pushes his hunger to the back of his mind as he pushes the doors to the room open. 

He's about to start talking when Shanks shushes him with a finger to his lips and a whispered shh. His chest constricts as he sets his eyes on you. You're in a godawful position that is not doing your back any good, but you look adorable in your sleep. 

There's a strong feeling within him that urges him to protect and care for you and he doesn't really know how he can feel so strongly about someone he practically just met. 

Truth be told, you have spent some time together thanks to your father's appointments and exams, and you have claimed permanent residence in his brain, complete with zip code, mailbox, address, you name it! Still… 

He sighs as he sets down your father's patient chart. “That can't be comfortable. How long has she been in this position?” He whispers as he approaches. 

Shanks shrugs and pats your head softly. “Hours. She has been surviving on coffee for more than a day. She just blacked out.”

“Yeah, she didn't look her best earlier and I did tell her to rest. But her back is going to kill her tomorrow.” Law sighs once more as he removes your purse, book and jacket from the corner chair and presses the switch to recline it. Then he sets the pillow near the head and approaches you. 

This is the tricky part, how to move you without waking you up? 

Easily, it seems. You must've really been exhausted because he picks you up bridal style and lays you on the chair, setting you in the most comfortable way before using his doctor's coat to cover you up and you barely stir. 

He doesn't resist tucking your hair away from your face before turning to your father - who's watching him with slight amusement. 

“Well done, Law. She didn't even stir. Those surgeons' hands are very steady.”

Law chuckles as he begins his routine examination. “They have to be, Mr. S. People's lives depend on it. And your daughter is just a heavy sleeper.”

“Perhaps… but I've noticed the extra care.” He winks before a frown takes over his face. “She could really use the extra care…”

Law doesn't really want to press, though he's curious. He's pretty sure your father said that because of your cheating ex. And though he's itching to know what kind of special asshole is capable of cheating on you, he lets it slide, as he adjusts the drugs in the IV and checks if the incision in Shanks’ back is recovering nicely. 

Law and Shanks make small talk during the rest of the examination and Law can't resist tugging the coat a bit more snugly around you and making sure you're comfortable before heading towards the door. 

Shanks’ eyes are closed when he speaks, but the older man can't quite hide the grin that overcomes his face. “You know, having a doctor as a son-in-law is something I wouldn't mind.”

Law snickers as he says goodnight and closes the door. That's a thought that will wander through his mind tonight. 

-*-

You wake up to the sound of chatter in the room. The morning nurse is fussing over your father, giggling like a schoolgirl as Shanks cracks jokes filled with innuendo. You blink and take a while to adjust to your surroundings because you're quite sure you'd fallen asleep near your father's bed, in the uncomfortable chair. 

A familiar soothing scent overwhelms you and you smile, feeling relaxed and at peace. It's a musky scent with hints of pine and… disinfectant? 

Looking down you immediately find the source of the scent: it's Law's coat. The corner of your lips tugs upwards as you smile and remove the item from over you. He must've found you asleep when he came to see your father yesterday. Was he also the one who moved you? Couldn't have been Shanks. 

“Hey, sunshine! You're up.” Your father greets cheerily as the nurse tugs the sheets around his torso and gives him a sultry wave before leaving. 

“Dad. Stop flirting with the nurses.” You say sternly as you get up, stretch and fold the coat neatly before settling it back down on the chair. Then you saunter towards Shanks and give him a peck on the forehead. “How do you feel? What did Law say yesterday?”

“I don't flirt with the nurses, bug, they flirt with me. I'm irresistible.”

“Insufferable is the word you're looking for.” You correct him with a smirk. 

“Law said everything was recovering nicely and I might even go home earlier than expected.” You sigh in relief. You know there's still a fair amount of chance for infections or other problems to arise, but it seems your dad is on his way to recovery. At least he's in good spirits and that always helps. “You know what Law also did?”

The blush in your cheeks is faint but you still turn your face away. “I can put two and two together, dad.” You mumble as you fidget with your phone. 

Shanks smirks. “So can I, bug.” You stare at him deadpan as he raises his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Well, you seem to be feeling fine, so I'm heading home to check on the property.”

“Ace's got it, bug!”

“And to take a shower and change. Need anything?” You add as he shakes his head. So, gathering your stuff, you promise to come back later and repeat the routine from the day before. Except this time you pack a meagre lunch so you don't have to go out to eat. Law said he would visit your father but he had a very busy day at the clinic so he wasn't quite sure when he would appear. 

As you return to your father's side, you discover that Law had already come by - much to your chagrin. You weren't quite sure why you felt disappointed not seeing him for the whole day, so you brushed that thought aside as you made small talk with Shanks. 

-*-

The weekend ended pretty soon and Law said your father would be released by Monday at the end of the day, depending on how he was feeling by then. He had already been able to get up on his own, shower and use the bathroom without any help. His back was still swollen, as expected, but otherwise he was recovering fully. You had been sleeping at home since you really didn't see the need to be by his side all the time and you were fully rested. 

On Monday, almost at dinnertime, Law released your father from the hospital. He advised caution, rest, no heavy lifting or driving, and reminded him to take his pills. 

The follow-up consultation - back at the clinic instead of the hospital - was set for next week and you were already feeling a pang of longing from not seeing Law every day, like you've now grown accustomed to. 

“If you have any doubts, worries, or just want to talk about something,” Law's eyes glance at yours, “just call me. If I don't pick up immediately it is because I'm in surgery, but even then, if it's urgent just text, I usually have a nurse monitoring any urgent texts.”

“We would never disturb your surgery hours because of something small.” You mutter as his gaze rests on you again. 

“Fair enough. But if it's serious, just do that. Okay?” You nod and your dad thanks him. He walks you both to the hospital entrance and before you leave to get the car, he touches your arm. It's a very light touch, barely two fingers, but it manages to send a jolt of electricity up your arm, making you gasp as you turn to him, lips slightly parted at the intensity you just experienced. “Don't be a stranger.” He murmurs and you smile. 

“Well, remember I have the best coffee in town - second only to Sanji's - whenever you feel like drinking something other than hospital swill.” You smirk and he grins. 

“I might just take you up on that.”

“Please, do.” You notice how his pupils dilate and his lips purse as you say ‘please’. It nearly has the same effect on him as him saying ‘good girl’ to you. The tension between both of you is palpable. 

If only you were brave enough to glimpse inside the door you closed for yourself. No men. No relationships. No heartache. As simple as that. 

But it’s all so tempting.

“Bug, the car?”

“Right!” You answer, a bit dazed by the intensity of the situation. “See you soon, Law!” You exclaim before leaving to get the car so you and your father can both head home.

|Chapter 4|

[poledancingdinos]

You're My Person

Pairing: Captain Syverson X OFC (1st person POV)

Word Count: 1139

Warnings: Domestic Fluff

Taglist: @summersong69 @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha ​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @rosecentury @shellyshellshell @winter2112rose @secretdream2 @toooldforobsessions @wa-ni @valacircareads @missemrose @liecastillo @identity2212

Masterlist

“Ow! Motherfucker!” I rubbed my head where I’d hit it on the kitchen cabinets. Yes, I hit my forehead on the eye-level kitchen cabinets. No, it unfortunately wasn’t the first time. Yes, I did foresee it happening again. 

The washing machine buzzed, giving me an excuse to escape the kitchen and leave behind the sink full of dirty dishes. If I didn’t immediately hang the laundry on the line, I would definitely forget to do it until the next time I tried to start a load and found the washer full of moldy clothing.

When I came back in, nearly tripping over Aika who darted outside right as I opened the door, I found Sy leaning with one shoulder on the kitchen archway. Instinctively, I checked his feet to make sure he wasn’t leaving dirty footprints on the freshly mopped floors.

“Hey, did you want me to get you something before I start the dishes?”

It wasn’t unusual for him to ask me to get him a drink when he came in with grease-covered hands. Having a mini-fridge—or even a second full-sized fridge—in the garage might be something to consider in the future. The extra freezer space would not go to waste with Sy’s appetite resembling that of a starved animal.

“Actually, I need ya to come downstairs with me.”

Confused, I set the empty basket on the table and followed without protest. I was expecting him to show me some new problem that would need to be fixed in the bathroom we were renovating, but instead he caught hold of my wrist and led me the opposite way towards our lounge area.

Sy pointed at a spot in the corner of the sectional couch where all my fluffy blankets were waiting.

“Sit.”

He waited until I obeyed before pointing to a steaming mug of hot chocolate that I hadn’t noticed was waiting for me on the table.

“Drink.”

Finally, he handed over the TV remote.

“Watch. No more work, no more chores, I don’t want ya back upstairs until you’re singin’ about pineapples and not tellin’ the truth.”

“Pineapples aren’t in the theme song,” I corrected without thinking, taking the remote.

“Blueberries then.”

“Those aren’t in the song either.”

To his credit, Sy fixed me with a sharp look but kept the annoyance out of his tone. “You’re doin’ it again.”

I was. I’d been picking fights over the most insignificant things all day—sometimes even with inanimate objects. In my defense though, carefully clearing the jammed paper didn’t keep the printer from eating more pages but threatening to throw it off the roof sure as hell seemed to finally make it run smoothly.

With a sigh, I let my head drop on the back of the couch. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Thank you for all this. You can go back to what you were doing.”

Making myself comfortable with one blanket around my shoulders and another over my lap—a necessity even at the height of summer since the whole house was on Sy temperature—I picked up the hot chocolate from the table. I gently blew on the hot milk before taking a small sip. Sy had made it just how I like it with lots of cocoa, sugar and a tiny pinch of salt instead of the pre-made mix. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked when I noticed Sy hadn’t moved. He stood in the same spot, arms crossed over his chest and frowning at the ground.

“Nothin’,” Sy scratched his scruffy cheek before putting his hands in his pockets, “I’m just realizin’ I have no clue what your favorite show is even about.”

Sy wasn’t really the binge-watching type. Actually, he wasn’t really the watching type period. Occasionally he would hear about a new show or movie that he specifically wanted to watch but other than that he normally did his own thing when I watched my shows. That was why we had our main living room upstairs and a movie area downstairs.

“I’ve explained it before, haven’t I?” I took another sip of my hot chocolate, humming in satisfaction.

“Sort of,” he shrugged. “You said it was a guy pretendin’ to be a psychic but I never understood why the boxset had a pineapple on it.”

“The lead actor ad-libbed a line with a random prop pineapple in the pilot and the showrunners ran with it. The blueberry is from a line in the second season and it refers to their little blue hatchback.”

There were numerous magnets on the fridge with silly quotes from the show or fanart which was how Sy knew about the fruity references but not the actual plot of the show. I also had a habit of humming the theme song around the house when I was feeling particularly perky.

“Huh.” There was another moment of silence before Sy seemed to shake off whatever thoughts were going through his head. “You need me to put a DVD in for ya?”

“No, I think I’ll stream it while it’s available. That way I don’t need to get out of my blanket burrito to change seasons.”

With a nod, Sy kissed the top of my head and left me to pick out an episode. I didn’t really know which one to watch so I found a number generator on my phone and had it pick one for me. I wasn’t currently doing a rewatch so there was no reason to follow any particular order.

To my surprise, Sy returned with snacks and a beer right as I prepared to press play. He had swapped out of his work clothes for a pair of grey sweats and an old army shirt.

“I thought you had stuff you wanted to finish in the garage?”

He dropped by my side with a groan. “Changin’ the breaks can wait until next weekend. I’ll sit with you for the evenin’ and take care of the rest of the chores tomorrow.”

“What about supper?”

“Food will be here in an hour.” One large arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Now, what do I gotta know before we start?”

Nervous energy passed through me and I had to actively try to contain my excitement.

“There’s nothing specific to know for this episode but in general? We never skip the opening or ending credits, I will sing them every time and if you see the hidden pineapple you have to point it out.”

That seemed to pique Sy’s interest. If anything, it would give him something to focus on if he got bored halfway through which I really hoped wouldn’t happen. He set a bowl of popcorn on his lap and nodded for me to start the episode. Smiling to myself, I sank deeper into his side and leaned my head on Sy’s shoulder.

I was feeling better already.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

tw // fatphobia, ed

I'm sorry, I love Hellaverse as much as the next guy but people cheering that "Fizz gained weight and it's a sign of healing!" are not serious. He gained as much weigh as Valentino lost between Masquerade and Welcome to Heaven aka he changed outfit. If they really wanted to convey this massage of healing, there are ways to do it in animation that don't make 50% of people doubt it's even real.

We can love the show and still acknowledge that Vivzie absolutely sucks when it comes to body diversity and 2 of 3 fat characters she has just perpetuate harmful stereotype that being fat goes hand in hand with being rich, lazy, incompetent and lack of self awareness (they are basically Dudleys of this universe). And that is intentional, see, the literal sin of Gluttony (not all fat people are gluttonous obviously but yes, eating more than someone needs - which gluttony means - makes people fat) is right there but apparently she's too cool and too nice to be fat. Beside Mammon and Adam we have Mimzy. Technically she is not that bad but let's be real she's hated more than the rapist or the genocidal zealot. And since writing in Hellaverse is vary smart in my opion I don't believe Mimzy was created to be liked by audience. From interrupting one of the best songs, to crossing Alastor's boundaries and just being a bad friend, she was doomed from the beginning.

None of the characters we should actually root for is fat. And while being fat is not something that "should be explained" by other character's traits, even if we chose to follow this very flawed logic there are plenty of likeable characters that have """a reason""" to be fat. Alastor and Rosie are foodie-coded, Husk drinks a lot of booze, Vox spends most of the time watching TV, Lucifer is depressed and barely leaves his room... Okay but honestly if we reverse this way of thinking and actually stop treating skinny a default body shape there is only one character that has """a reason""" to be this skinny and it's Angel Dust who - as a famous pornstar - has to be commonly (yes we live in the society and porn industry treats fat people like fetish, not actually attractive human beings) desirable and easy to sexualize. Any character in the shows could be fat but choices were made.

And by the way I think they did a terrible job with the whole Fizz's eating disorder thing because when he supposed to be "skinny in the unhealthy way" he looks like 95% of characters.

Anyway, even your favorite media deserves valid criticism.

[anemoiashifts]

how tiktok failed the shifting community

& how shiftok keeps you stuck idk what to call this. 🫶🏻

to make this clear, i do not hate tiktok. i dont hate people on tiktok who want to shift. i dont have a problem with people on tiktok talking about shifting.

this post is not about anyone specific. ive sold a shifting journal on amazon. which may seem hypocritical though ive never made a promise that it will make you shift & its not supposed to.

!! this post isn’t an excuse to push all the communities problems on shiftok. much like the animal crossing community pre-new horizons, as communities grow bigger, its expected to bring some toxicity with it. problems exist in all corners of the internet & in certain groups.

however, there is a specific issue within the shifting community that involves tiktok & that is the integration of money & profit being made off of people’s desperation.

shifting was / can be presented as this alternative “safe place” & escape for people with serious mental illness that consist of not wanting to be living this life anymore. & that’s fine on its own. everything we do is a form of escapism like readings or watching tv. as long as it’s healthy, it’s harmless. ive touched on permashifting & sv!c!d4l ideation before but id like to piggyback off of that point.

to clarify for everyone new: i am not against perma-shifting. i am against some of the langue that is used around it. you don’t need to k!ll yourself to shift. this is what im speaking about.

when you have an audience that is deteriorating & only going through the motions of life, when your only desire is to get out of the situation you are in, is it extremely easy to profit off of vulnerable people. this fact paired with tiktok — where you get paid & your income is dependent on engagement — it becomes overwhelmingly clear why pushing out content that keeps their audience within arms reach of actually shifting. it’s more profitable if you have an audience of people who can’t shift & want to as opposed to an audience of people who can shift & don’t need validation from exterior sources. it becomes easy to ignore people’s struggles if that’s what you’re making money off of. there is a lack of a healthy viewpoint & balance within some parts of the community.

calling back to 2020 when shiftok was in its infancy, there was a lot of “pov” & storytime style content. there is nothing wrong with wanting to share your experiences but making “entertainment” is arguably much, much easier & profitable. keeping that in mind, why i believe the practice of shifting is so seemingly popular amongst a younger demographic is because it brings fandom spaces together. it’s one thing to watch a show & obsess over fictional characters & read fan fiction but to live alongside your favorite character & be equal with those you idolize, it can sound very appealing. keeping shifting as entertainment style content, it makes it no different then fanfiction & oc’s. again !! i have no problem with people speaking about their experiences / wants for when they shift but the issue is when people only focus on that & it becomes a numbers game.

i hold no issue with people selling their labor in any community but when you sell something with the promise to “make you shift” is when it becomes problematic. when you sell false promises & empty hope, you are also banking that your audience is desperate enough to cling to anything that reminds them of what they want. it speaks to how the creator views their audience to an extent & id argue is aware of the dozens of (mostly) children expressing their negative worldview that displays an unhealthy mentality.

this is why i don’t do general readings as frequently & personal readings at all anymore. quite honestly, it’s easy engagement. while not my intention, people often change their perspective & “make” things fit their situation. i hate hate hate to say this but in desperation, you can make a sign out of anything. this is not me trying to take away the feeling of internal knowing. to give this thought weight, i remember a while ago i posted a reading that was & has been channeled from a person in my desired reality. the comments were flooded by “i know who this is from” & “this is from this person in my dr”. i clarified in the video — the very first slide — that this was from a specific person & everyone completely ignored that fact to fit their beliefs. if you find meaning in something that’s great but when something is explicitly stated as one thing don’t manipulate it to fit yourself if it’s not truly meant for you. not every reading is supposed to resonate. by forcing it to it removes the intimate aspects of what is truly just for you. if everything has meaning, nothing has meaning.

circling back to my idea before, readings & “this message was meant for you content” does open the floodgates to tell their audience what they want to hear for the sake of growth, profit, engagement. yes, there are some readings that don’t pander to a specific group of views but those “stop scrolling this was meant for you, he’s thinking about you, if you see this letter or number it’s a sign & you should be expecting a phone call or someone to reach out to you soon” readings that come up on your fyp are eight times out of ten for engagement purposes & to tell you what you want to hear by using generic langue to make profit. no, not all readings are set up this way and not everyone thinks like this. there are plenty of people who don’t do it for money or attention. even if people did it for money, some people hold issue with that while others don’t. the like it or not, just make sure you’re doing it in a way that’s not making peoples mental situation worse & giving others false hope.

while not reading based, this sounds familiar when we acknowledge “shifting symptoms”. early on, people seemed to take them as being close to shifting & literally feeling the process of you becoming apart of your desired reality. now we know, all those tingles & twitched are only your body checking to see if you’re asleep. the name becomes very mis-leading when you take into that content.

the tldr of this post was when you intertwine spirituality & profit in spaces where people are desperate for something that feels larger then them, people’s actions can put bad tastes in people’s mouths. looking at tiktok, views = money. when numbers are given to people who have shifted & deemed influencers (because that’s how tiktok was pretty much designed) it becomes easy to see why some idolize to be like these people’s — “they shifted & i didn’t, they seem to have everything figured out, they must be better at it then i am, they must be special & not like the rest of us.” it creates a cycle of self doubt, unfortunately, while keeping you in the same “i can’t shift” mindset while these same people are selling a piece of them that you seemingly “lack”.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi hi))) tumblr recently showed me it’s legendary quote about marriage “ you know your marriage worked out if you’re still up for a quickie in a laundry room while kids are watching Lion King and you gotta take dino nuggets out of oven in 10min”

Can we please get it with Dave? I love him he’s so fit and his arms are like 😩😳🥵. He is trying to knock his wife up while she’s folding the laundry while loud cartoons on TV downstairs are there to distract their two kids???

I LOVED THIS IDEAAAA, I hope you like it🔥❤

Warnings: explicit sexual content, sexual themes, and a bit of dirty language.

-----

Laundry room secrets

The soft hum of the laundry machine and the rhythmic sound of fabric folding are the only noises filling the room as I finish the last load. The kids are downstairs, their animated chatter blending with the sounds of The Lion King playing on the TV. It’s been a hectic day, and yet, in this quiet moment, everything feels calm. The laundry’s almost done, the house is quiet for once, and for the first time in a long while, I find myself actually enjoying this small moment of peace. 

That is, until I hear the creak of the stairs and the sound of boots hitting the top step—one of those steps that Dave always misses when he’s trying to sneak up on me. It makes me smile because I can already guess what’s coming. 

I hear him before I see him. "Hey, babe, you need any help?" The voice is deep and warm, the same voice that always makes my heart race a little, even after all these years. He leans in the doorway, and I look up from my work to see him standing there—tall, broad, and impossibly fit.

His arms, flexing as he crosses them in front of his chest, are like a walking advertisement for hard work at the gym. He’s got that rugged, casual look on him today—plain black T-shirt, the sleeves hugging his biceps just right—and I can’t help but let my gaze linger. 

“Are you serious?” I tease, raising an eyebrow. “Help with laundry? You do know what that means, right? Folding, sorting, putting away?”

He shrugs, and the mischievous glint in his eyes only gets stronger. “Sure, I’ll help with all that… later.” He steps closer, his boots heavy on the wooden floorboards as he closes the space between us. 

I roll my eyes and give him a soft shove. "Later. Right."

He smirks, clearly reading my mind. “Or we could do something else right now. Something… more fun.”

I glance at the door. The kids are downstairs. They’re probably too distracted by the cartoons to even notice what’s happening upstairs. The house is oddly quiet for once—just the murmur of the TV and the occasional sound of my kids arguing over something silly. 

I should keep my focus on the laundry, but that’s just not happening. 

Before I can stop myself, I’m already turning toward him, feeling his presence next to me, warm and steady. “Something else, huh?” I ask, pretending to be nonchalant, even though my heart rate picks up the moment his hands brush against my back. His fingertips graze along my spine, sending a tingle through me. He knows exactly what he’s doing—he’s always known how to drive me crazy in the best possible way.

"Yeah," he replies, voice low and a little dangerous. "You’ve been working hard today. Maybe you deserve a little... break."

I glance over at the clock on the wall. It’s 20:15, and I know that I’ve got about ten minutes before I have to go rescue the dino nuggets in the oven. I also know this is the kind of moment that doesn’t come often. 

There’s no way I’m passing this up.

“Ten minutes,” I murmur, a grin tugging at my lips. “I’ve got ten minutes before the chicken nuggets are overcooked.”

Dave laughs softly, the sound low and teasing. “Perfect. That gives us just enough time.”

I can feel the warmth of his body pressing into mine, his hands sliding over my hips, pulling me closer. The second I’m against him, his lips are on mine—warm, demanding, and sweet all at once. I feel the world start to melt away. The laundry room. The kids. The timer on the oven. It all fades into the background as Dave deepens the kiss, his tongue gently sliding against mine. His hands move to my waist, steady and sure, like he’s not going anywhere.

“Dave,” I whisper between kisses, “the kids…”

“They’re fine,” he murmurs, lips trailing down my neck. “They’re too busy watching the lion king to notice what we’re up to.”

He’s right. I can hear Simba’s voice in the background, and the kids are probably too busy fighting over who gets to sit on the couch to even think about what’s going on upstairs. For once, the house feels eerily quiet and calm. And for once, I don’t feel like I’m in a race against time. 

I let my hands roam, tracing the firm lines of his chest, feeling the muscles under his shirt shift with every move he makes. It’s always been like this with Dave—there’s a constant pull between us, an energy that’s both effortless and intense. We’ve been married for years, but somehow, it still feels like we’re in that honeymoon phase where we can’t get enough of each other.

His hands slide under my shirt, his fingertips grazing the skin of my lower back, and I let out a soft breath as his touch sends a wave of heat through me. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

I can’t help but smile. “You say that every time, but you know it’s true.”

“Yeah, I do,” he responds, his lips curving into that signature, roguish smile that always drives me wild. “But it’s still worth saying.”

I let out a quiet laugh, the sound mixing with the hum of the laundry machine in the background. I’m getting lost in him—his touch, his voice, the warmth of his body pressing against mine. It feels like a lifetime ago since we were last like this, just the two of us, caught up in the intensity of each other. 

I can feel my pulse quicken, and before I know it, I’m guiding him toward the dryer, his body pressing me against the cool metal. His lips meet mine again, but this time, there’s more urgency behind it—more heat. My hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as it thrums against my palm. His chest is solid and warm beneath my fingertips, every inch of him as strong and sturdy as I remember. 

He breaks the kiss and looks down at me, his hands settling on my hips. “I think it’s time for you to sit down,” he says softly, his voice low and full of that quiet command he always seems to carry.

I’m about to question him when he lifts me effortlessly, turning me to face the dryer. My back hits the top of the machine, the cool surface sending a shiver down my spine. Dave’s hands guide my legs, helping me to sit on top of the dryer, my feet barely touching the floor. His hands move to my waist, pulling me close again, and I feel his lips press against my neck, kissing me softly. It’s not rough, not hurried—just slow, steady, and deliberate, as if he’s savoring every second of this. 

I breathe in the familiar scent of him—the cologne I bought him years ago mixed with the faint musk of sweat from his workout earlier. I’m completely at ease with him, but the rush of excitement is undeniable. The vulnerability of sitting on the dryer, exposed and in his hands, heightens everything. 

“You’re so sexy when you let go like this,” he says, his voice barely a whisper against my ear. “I love how you trust me.”

I smile, leaning back to give him a better angle, letting my hands move to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “I trust you more than anyone.”

His hands slide beneath my shirt again, but this time, there’s no teasing. He’s quick to undress me, his touch heated, urgent, and when my shirt is discarded on the floor, his hands travel to my waist, inching down my pants as I pull them off.

I can’t help but lean back, his hands grip my hips, pulling me closer as his lips press against mine. The kiss deepens almost instinctively, both of us hungry for the connection we’ve been missing. The sound of the dryer hums softly in the background, a low vibration that matches the pounding of my heart as I feel his body heat radiate against mine.

"God, you feel so good," Dave murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. His hands slid down to my thighs, lifting me just enough to press his body closer, his chest hard against mine.

I shiver, the feeling of him so overwhelming, so present. "I want you," I breathe, barely able to hold myself together. "Now."

His lips curve into a half-smile as he lifts me, sitting me on the edge of the dryer, our faces inches apart. He looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters at that moment. "I can’t get enough of you," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

I run my hands up his chest, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. "Then show me," I say, my voice low, a challenge in my words.

He doesn't waste any time. He pushes my legs apart, stepping between them, his hands gripping my waist as he slowly moves against me. "You’re perfect," he breathes, his voice strained. "I need to feel you."

I pull him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, my lips finding him again. The kiss is desperate now, urgent, and I can feel the heat building between us. "Dave… I need you," I whisper, breaking the kiss for a second, my eyes locking with his.

His hands move to my hips, guiding me as I lift just enough to adjust myself. The sensation of him inside me makes me gasp, and his name slips past my lips before I can stop it. He groans in response, his hands gripping me tighter as he begins to move, slow at first, but building in intensity.

"You feel so fucking good," he mutters, his voice rough, his gaze never leaving mine. "So tight... so perfect for me."

I moan softly, my body starting to move with him. Every thrust makes me feel as if I'm floating in a sea of ecstasy. Every inch of him makes me feel alive, sending waves of heat through my veins. "Don’t stop," I beg, my hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as I urge him on.

He growls in response, his lips finding my neck as he quickens the pace. "I won’t," he says, his voice low and commanding. "I’m not stopping until you’re mine."

I tighten my grip on him, my body moving faster now, meeting every thrust, every movement. The pressure builds deep inside me, and I know I’m getting close. I can feel it in every part of me, the way my body responds to him, the way his breath is coming faster.

"Dave, I’m—" I gasp, my body trembling as the pleasure overwhelms me. I can’t hold back any longer. My muscles tighten around him as I let go, my orgasm washing over me in waves.

"Fuck," he groans, his movements faltering for a moment as he reaches his peak, his hands clutching me tightly, his body shaking with the force of it.

We stayed like that for a moment, both of us breathing heavily, our foreheads pressed together. The moment feels timeless, even though the world outside is still there, still waiting for us.

 Finally, he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire, lips curved into a mischievous grin. "I could do this with you forever," he murmurs, his voice a low, heated growl.

My breath catches in my throat, still reeling from the way he’s made me feel. I look up at him, a slow smile spreading across my face as I reach up to trace his jaw. "You better be ready to keep proving it," I reply, my voice a mix of teasing and need.

He leans in to kiss me one more time, soft and sweet now, as if to remind me that beyond the passion, there’s a deep love we share. Then, with a sigh, he pulls away, his fingers brushing my cheek. "We should probably check on those dino nuggets," he says with a playful grin.

I chuckle softly, shaking my head. "Right. Can’t let those burn."

As we make our way back down to the kitchen, I feel that familiar warmth in my chest, the kind that comes from knowing we’ve built something real—something that doesn’t just survive the chaos of everyday life but thrives in it.

[cooketimm]

Hardboiled #10-25 (1990-98) cover artwork by Bruce Timm

Interview from Cool Stuff Magazine #1 (1995):

Gary Lovisi: Much of your work is characterized by raw, intense energy and action, or beautiful women in stylish, dangerous settings. Some is obviously influenced by the pulps.

Bruce Timm: I’m big pulp fan, have been since the early 70s, when I started reading Doc Savage and Avenger reprints. I can’t really say how they’ve influenced my artwork much, except when doing pulp-homage stuff like the Bob Price books. But I do sometimes wish I was born decades earlier so I could have worked for some of the old pulps, which was why it was so much fun doing the Price stuff, and the «mock 50s» paperback covers for your Gryphon Books.

The hero pulps — Doc Savage, The Spider, The Shadow, etc — did have a big impact on my approach to the Batman cartoons. It’s something I tried to inject into the show from early on, the atmosphere, danger and illicit excitement, and especially that Norvell Page-type feeling of impending doom — the «doomed city» mood. It’s also why I set the sense in a timeless, 40s-styled world of big cars, padded shoulders, gangsters, shadowy streets, etc. I only wish we’d gone farther with it.  

For instance, my original version of Batman himself was actually close to the Shadow: rarely seen close-up, speaking in short, clipped phrases, more mysterious, literally. I wanted to play him cold and remote, almost unhuman. But the network and our various story editors would have none of that!  «We need to humanize him», «He needs to have a sense of humor», «We need to more about Bruce Wayne, the person», etc! Whereas I could care less about Bruce Wayne! He’s much more fascinating if you don’t know what he’s thinking, or what drives him.

A few «Shadowy» touches did survive. Batman is rarely seen be the public, almost never on TV. Even when dealing with the police, he’s usually off in shadows conferring with Commissioner Gordon only. And when he’s in the Batcave, he’s almost always in costume. My way of saying he’s Batman, not the other guy, not Bruce Wayne. Like Lamon Cranston, his true, «legal» identity is a facade.

I’ d love to do straight-ahead pulp hero adaptation someday. Doc or The Shadow or The Spider, either in comics or animation, without the senseless updating and over-explaining «character development» like in the Alec Baldwin-Shadow-fiasco-film.  

Gary Lovisi: Your stunning covers for my Hardboiled mag are very popular with everyone who sees them. What are your feelings on hardboiled crime-related art?

Bruce Timm: It’s hard, actually, to define «crime-fiction» art. There’s pulp crime-fiction art, and digest crime-fiction art, both of which cross over with paperback crime-fiction art. Basically, I’m a fan of good illustration. Period. Regardless of subject matter. Composition, emotionally intensity, color and lighting effects are what I look for. And pretty girls, of course!   

My favorite pulp crime artist is H. J. Ward, hands down. Gorgeous gals in twisty curvy poses, painted in luscious, creamy, wet-on-wet oil technique. My favorite paperback artists include Robert McGinnis, Robert Maguire, and Mitchell Hooks, the usual suspects.

My approach to the Hardboiled covers is different from my earlier «homage» work. When the covers were black and white, I used to experiment with different b&w textures, coquille board, zip-a-tone, xeroxed newsprint, whatever worked. Now that I’m doing them in color, I’m trying to make them as exciting and eye-catching as possible, with loud color, sexy gals, exaggerated action, and simple, graphic, almost cartoony styling.

[perlamaritr1]

The main characters for the Animal Crossing TV show would be: A naive boy. A video game girl(the player who has escaped from the Animal Crossing realm along with the other characters in the game). The video game girl’s lazy companion, Bob(who appears at the beginning of each episode). Isabelle. Tom Nook. The boy’s sentient Nintendo Switch companion.

Recurring characters: Rover. KK Slider. The boy’s scientist parents. Goldie. Rosie. Margie. Stitches. Timmy and Tommy. Digby. Marshal. A select few surviving human citizens such as scientists, the boy’s friends, a clumsy biologist, a cyborg farmer, the boy’s foster sister, and the mayor of New York. Various other surviving species such as robots, dogs, cats, bees, and a sentient cyborg potted plant. Carmen the rabbit. Hugh the pig. Mabel and Sable. Mr Resetti. THE VOID.

There are a ton of minor characters in the Animal Crossing TV show, so there’s always room for improvement.

The first five episodes are a prologue to the series, and are called: “Our Population is Still Growing”, “It’s Been a Wild World”, “Remembering the City Folk”, “Turning Over a New Leaf”, and “Off to New Horizons!”.

[38sr]

same anon that asked about shadows ! , i have another question , how does different budgets for different animes change the way it is drawn , animated etc , like how does it go from average to ultra quality like demon slayer for example ..

Ah so with anime it’s a very nuanced topic. Firstly, I want to preface that what I am about to say is strictly from my experience working in anime for three years now and even then I would highly implore to study the Animator Dormitory Project to learn from animators who are PHYSICALLY dealing with the imbalanced system that is the anime industry. ALSO, it is important to clarify more money does not equal better art visually. More money means more time and resources. How you use said resources and time is what determines the quality of art (as well as the quality of work environment for the people making said product). If we were to follow the logic that more money equals better art, that would mean the average Family Guy episode should look like an average Demon Slayer episode. That is simply not the truth because 1) every production is different therefore their needs and overall artistic vision will differ 2) you’d be surprised on how the money is actually spent versus what you think it should be spent on (ie American animated films choosing to do celebrity voice casting which eats up a shit ton of the budget when that could have gone to the production crew’s schedule and needs). So with that, please understand money does not play in the ways you think it does (ie if it makes the drawings better) but it cannot be denied it’s one of many factors. Alright?

Basically, anime is funded through production committees which are a group of investors (such as manga publishers, merchandise manufacturers, tv broadcast executives, etc). In America, we have a similar system known as the AMPTP however unlike America where an investor can invest in cross industry projects (ie. Mattel can invest in toys and film entertainment) in Japan they can only choose one industry. This leaves budgets for anime to not become incredibly inflated like we have here in America (ie most blockbuster movies nowadays). BUT because of this rule along with the rule of budget caps, the actual budgets of full seasons of animes have not changed much since maybe the 1960/70s. To bring it back to Family Guy, the average episode of that show from script to final broadcast has been reported to cost anywhere between $1-2 million PER EPISODE. If you multiply that with the full episode order (let’s say 13 just to match the average season of anime), you’re working with $13-26 million FOR A SEASON.

Anime, specifically TV anime, is not seeing that. Shinkai’s Your Name was reported to have $4.5mil for actual movie production (not including the advertising budget which would make it 7.5 or roughly 8mil). $4.5mil. For an anime film.

$4.5 million is a good (and rare) budget by American TV animation standards for PER EPISODE. Unless you’re like, Disney or something you can afford to do that but most average American TV animation is anywhere between $1-3 million per episode. And the average anime is seeing that $1-3mil PER SEASON due to budget caps. So if we do the math of dividing that $1-3mil across 13 episodes (and I’m gonna do this evenly because this is a hypothetical and in reality some episodes do have more money put into for more TIME and RESOURCES)…that would mean your average anime episode, from script to final broadcast, is only seeing a couple hundred thousand dollars unlike here in American where we have a couple million.

And so at this point you’re probably thinking, “Wait, this doesn’t make sense. How can Your Name look like the way it is if that’s what America could spend on a single animated episode? Why is there such a wide disparity between the actual budget versus the final product’s visuals?” And that, my dear Shadow (sorry if that came off weird) is where we have to talk about communication. You see, even though Demon Slayer might not be seeing the same episode budget like we do in America what Japanese studios have in spades that American studios spent over 2 DECADES eradicating is in house layout and animation teams.

The reason why anime looks the way it is on such smaller budgets is quite honestly because they are communicating with each other in real time. In America, we ship our storyboards to a studio overseas (usually Korea, Philippines, India, etc) where we are basically playing a gambling game of whether or not the overseas studios produce the desired work we want. And spoiler alert: it hardly ever truly happens because of language barriers and these overseas are often not given enough money (remember that means time and resources) to actually succeed. Hence, you go into retakes which cost money and spend it back to overseas which cost money, and then it comes back and retakes are still needed which cost money yet again and I think you’re beginning to see why this system in American studios is awful.

Because the amount of money you spent doing that back and forth with retakes and shipping with an overseas studio who was not set up for success could have been spent on having an in house layout and animation team like they do in Japanese studios.

As someone who has freelanced on animes as well worked at vendor overseas studios for American made productions, I cannot understate how having that instant communication (as well as cultural understanding) can drastically change how things get animated. Being able to talk to your director about their intent for a scene at an instant is much more productive than waiting 6-8 months for a Russian roulette bullet. So my point is, the direct communication Japanese studios have within is the true unsung hero as to why 1) visually beautiful shows like Dandadan or Demon Slayer exist 2) they are able to have such a wide variety of visual styles under the anime umbrella because Japanese studios do value auteurship just a tad bit more than American studios who as of late is homogenizing our media cause it’s “safe”.

Also, another component that can factor into why anime looks the way it does despite smaller budgets is because Japan as a society heavily values reputation. On one hand, it’s cool that artists are willing to come together to bring the vision of an artist they admire to fruition. But on the other, it is often used to exploit these artists into very shitty work situations (ie me when I worked on JJK). It’s such a hard thing to talk about because as artists we do tend to sacrifice our well being for the sake of art but I could understand why someone on the outside might feel confused (or frustrated) that we would choose to put ourselves in a poor situation. Sometimes, you’re just willing to take a lesser pay and tighter deadlines to work on a project that speaks to you creatively. And it really do just be that. But for the case of anime, it is often because these artist want to work with a person they admire so who I am to judge them when I’ve done the same haha. But my point being, because Japanese studios have that in house communication and are more open to artist auteurship there’s just more room to have visually distinctive episodes, animated sequences, designs and so on despite the budgets not being the greatest (if we’re going by American standard of living because it is objectively true that Japan is not as costly as places like NY and LA).

I could go on and on about this but I think this answer has become way too long haha. But in summary, Japan isn’t seeing as big as budgets as you think you are from an American perspective. Anime budgets virtually have not changed that much for decades despite it being mainstream and incredibly profitable. I will add that studios like Kyoani and Ufotable have the advantage of potentially self funding their projects, which allows more creative power to the studio itself rather than having to comply to the production committee’s whims. But those studios are like….rare gems ‘cause they chose to nurture talent and be selective with their art over time as opposed to Mappa who is spreading the talent and production crew super thin by adapting too many shows. What makes the art in anime look that way is more so a result of passion and respect for the craft (as well as they’re just open to a lot more versus American execs who are risk-adverse). It would be great if they were given more money so they weren’t producing episodes on such tight schedules (usually a handful of months before official broadcast) but it’s really a testament of how they effectively allocate the money where it’s needed as well. It’s truly an amazing balancing act in a system that’s equally imbalanced.

Phew, that was a long one but I hope I answered your question. And with that, always remember kids that money does not equal better art. Money means more time and resources and how you use it is what determines the overall artistic vision of a production.

[missmoonfrost]

Want to watch a movie? - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic - January 13: First Murder - Words: 682 - Warning: mention of murder

The flat always seemed extra noisy when one of them was about to return from a mission, the floor creating sudden creaks or the wind making weird whistling noises in the ventilation to make Sirius jump and glance towards the door. At least this time Remus wasn't late. If anything, he was unexpectedly early.

"Hi", he smiled wearily and shuffled his feet inside.

Sirius was with him in an instant, hugging him closely. The time for worrying about what the other thought about showing too much emotion was over. With the war, there was no room for that. Thinking back, the way they had danced around each other now just seemed childish.

Remus sat down on the sofa with a sigh and Sirius shuffled close to his side, soaking up the bliss of Remus' arm around him and face nuzzling in his hair.

"Are you okay?" Always the same first question.

"Mm. Are you?"

"Yes."

Remus stroked up and down his arm until he stilled and Sirius felt him drawing a tense breath. Remus chewed on his lip and looked at the floor.

"I... I killed one of them." A quick glance up at Sirius, then he looked at the floor again.

"Oh, Remus! Oh, baby..." Sirius wrapped both arms around his neck and held him in a tight embrace.

"I’m okay", Remus protested. "We all know what we signed up for, right?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He looked at Sirius for a moment, then shook his head.

"I need to write a report. Then I'm thinking a shower and an early night."

Sirius kept a close eye on Remus while he went about his day just like he used to. It was funny, Sirius had always imagined he would be the first of them to have to cross that threshold. An aspect of the curse of violence in his blood he had worked so hard to disprove, yet had somehow still believed. Maybe it was for the best this way? Remus had always been the stronger one of them. Proven now if not sooner.

Sirius silently tried the thought, if this changed anything. Did the fact Remus seemed so unaffected bother him? No. All he felt was compassion.

When Remus had unpacked and emerged from the shower Sirius had dinner ready and was plating the coffee table.

“Want to watch a movie while we eat?”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll just throw some clothes on.”

Sirius turned on the TV, then heard cursing from the kitchen and went to investigate. He walked in on Remus, always calm and kind Remus, kicking a cupboard door.

“Sorry, I just can’t find the pumpkin soda…” he mumbled with a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, ”I know I had some and I know you don’t even like it and -”

“I put it in the fridge for you,” Sirius said in a flat voice.

“Oh. Thank you,” Remus said and wiped his eyes.

When Remus didn’t move, Sirius opened the fridge and got a can out for him, only to see more tears appear just as quickly as Remus wiped them away.

“Oh, love…” Sirius put his arms around Remus.

“Sorry I’m such a baby”, Remus mumbled and pressed his forehead into Sirius' shoulder.

“This is not about the soda, is it?”

With a jolt, Remus pulled Sirius with him to the floor where they both ended up on their knees. Remus cried so much he had to gasp for air, clinging to Sirius as if his life depended on it. Sirius held him close and stroked his hair until he eased his grip and sobbed:

“I don’t regret it. That’s the worst part! I would do it again if I had to. I just wish… that it didn’t have to be like this.”

“I know. Me too, love. I’m so sorry.”

Eventually, Remus sighed deeply and kissed Sirius, their equally wet cheeks and salty lips pressing against each other.

“Still want to watch a movie with me?”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you want.”

Remus smiled faintly. “Something animated where everyone is kind.” 

[milla-frenchy]

Get to know your moots

Thanks for the tag @yxtkiwiyxt @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ace-turned-confused @thundermartini @joelmillerisapunk 🙏❤️

what's the origin of your blog title?: Milla Jovovich in the 5th element, and also I wanted people to know why my grammar is awful 😶

favorite fandoms: ppcu

OTP(s) + shipname: Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling

favorite color: black 

favorite game: tlou (both games)

song stuck in your head: spite - Omar Apollo. I’m obsessed with it

weirdest habit/trait?: I have a ton, but none of them are weird (to me 😁)

hobbies: video games, tv shows, writing fics, listening to music

if you work, what's your profession? I check whether construction projects comply with the law

if you could have any job you wish what would it be? if I could I wouldn’t work tbh. But I think I’d be happier if I worked in a bookstore or a flower shop

something you're good at: listening, I think. And if I’m invested in something I need it to be perfect, so if someone asks me to do something, it should be nicely done

something you're bad at: I don't always know where my boundaries are until I realize I crossed them, and it's too late. I'm done with the thing or the people that asked too much of me and I disappear (and I didn't even see it coming)

something you love: calm. Being at home, quiet

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: honestly when I’m comfortable with the person, I can talk about everything

something you hate: a lot of things, I can be super grumpy 🙃 Yesterday I was at the movies. Some people were talking too loudly, others were eating during a silent scene and I just wanted to throw them out. In general I don't like noisy people and I hate rudeness. I’m not comfortable with intrusive people or when people come too close to me physically

something you collect: tickets (plane, activities done while traveling, movies, concerts…) I live in nostalgia, and keeping them is a need for me

something you forget: I have a very weird memory. I can remember some details from 15 years ago, and forget something you told me 2 min ago. I still don’t know how this damn memory works

what's your love language?: acts of service, listening, being there when they need me

favorite movie/show: the silence of the lambs, seven, narcos, friends, luther, the last of us, 6 feet under

favorite food: we have some really good meals with cheese and potatoes in France (raclette, gratin dauphinois, tartiflette…) and I love them. And pasta never disappoints (I love italian food)

favorite animal: I’m a cat person, but I’m fascinated by orcas

what were you like as a child? I was quiet and shy, already anxious af and didn’t want people to know it

favorite subject at school? english, geography, history

least favorite subject? maths and sciences. I feel dumb af when it comes to that

what's your best character trait? I’m a good listener, I think. When I love, I love hard. If my friends are attacked I feel like my heart is ripped in two

what's your worst character trait? I overthink everything. And when I don’t, I don’t give a fuck. Which is very disturbing, even for me 🤯

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? I’d stop working and lie on my couch. But today’s a good day, I work from home, so it’s ok

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? Honestly if I could travel in time I’d just want to see my mom again

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): raider!joel @toxicanonymity is my roman empire. I said it a million times, and I’ll say it again 😍🖤

I’m working on a list of my all time favorite fics that I will share soon, I hope. I have old lists here

npt: @aurorawritestoescape @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @604to647 @schnarfer

@sawymredfox @iknowisoundcrazy @baronessvonglitter @bonezone44 @magpiepills

@pascalssbabyy @tateypots @sunshineispunk and whoever wants to 🙏

[ben-talks-art]

Finished Pantheon season 1, and I might have a hot take 🙏🏼

I'm gonna be honest, the one thing that kept crossing my mind while watching these episodes was, "Did this show have to be animated?" 🤔

So many episodes of this are just characters standing around and talking, or sitting around and talking, or picking up a phone and talking.

A lot of very slow, very long, very still, talk scenes.

I thought they were going to use the whole "people's minds on the web" plot point to do some really crazy, breathtaking visuals with the animation... and they definitely do a few cool things, but overall I can totally see this series having been done in live action and we wouldn't have missed much.

The visuals in here are kinda tamed imo.

I remember they had this one really slow scene of a guy going to make his coffee, picking the coffee, drinking the coffee, and I just thought to myself "This feels like the kind of scene you do in a live action show but isn't really needed in animation."

This feels like a series that was written for live action that just happened to be animated.

Even the big fight scene in the season finale. It looked cool, don't get me wrong, but I feel like they could have gone even crazier and wilder with the visuals.

Heck, I think the TV Show "Legion" had more interesting animated visuals in the season 2 finale, and that's a live action show!