#(Random drabble thing)

[random-twst-things]

Epel: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang a mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it

Vil: Epel, no

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Mistlefoe

Vil: Mc/Y/N/Yuu, stop encouraging him

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: I'm not, I just threw in a creative name for his new tradition

Epel: Mistlefoe... Got a nice ring to it, I'll use it!

Vill: NO!

Dividers by/from @/cafekitsune

[ang3lofdivinity]

Warning: Lightly suggestive, can be seen as romantic or platonic.. BUTTTT…

I’m thinking about Calypso!Reader having some mermaid features whenever they got into the water.

The first time Jinx saw you step into the water, her jaw nearly hit the sand.

She’d been lazing on the rocky shore of your secluded island, sharpening her knife while keeping half an eye on you; because she always kept at least half an eye on you. You were fascinating, after all, with your calm demeanor, the way you hummed while walking barefoot across the sand, the way you somehow made her forget the chaos screaming in her head.

But when you waded into the shallows and the sunlight caught the iridescent scales creeping up your legs, Jinx FROZE. Her knife clattered to the ground.

You turned back to look at her, the water lapping gently at your thighs, and tilted your head in question.

“Something wrong?”

Jinx’s eyes widened, completely dumbfounded by your question. How the hell are you still acting so calm?

“What the hell is this?” she shouted, gesturing wildly toward you.

You blinked, then glanced down at yourself. The scales shimmered faintly in the sun, a mix of blues and greens like the ocean itself had gifted you its colors.

“Oh,” you said, as if this were the most casual thing in the world.

“This happens sometimes. When I’m in the water.”

Jinx was on her feet in seconds, sprinting toward the shoreline with a manic glint in her eye.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were part fish, toots?!”

“Because I’m not part fish,” you replied with a small laugh.

“It’s… complicated. Let’s just say the ocean likes me.”

The waves seemed to agree, brushing against your skin like they couldn’t bear to part from you. The wind picked up too, tugging at your hair as if to remind you it was part of your power, too.

Jinx, now up to her knees in the water, leaned in close, her gaze darting over your scales.

“Can you breathe underwater? Do you, like, grow a tail?”

You smiled at her excitement.

“You’ll figure it out eventually. When I tell you. Or, even show you if I feel nice enough.”

“That’s boring thoughhh!!” Jinx said, poking one of the scales on your arm with a curious finger.

Before you could reply, Jinx grabbed your hand and tugged you further into the water. The waves surged higher around your waist, and with every step, the scales spread further across your skin. It was as if the ocean itself was calling you home.

Jinx watched with rapt attention, her usual chaos momentarily subdued.

“Do something cool,” she urged.

Rolling your eyes, you motioned with a finger to let the wind swirl around you, sending ripples across the water. Then, with a flick of your wrist, the ocean rose in a small arc, splashing Jinx full in the face.

She sputtered, then burst into laughter, water dripping from her hair.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, though the grin on her face betrayed how much fun she was having.

“You asked for it,” you replied, your tone light.

Jinx’s laughter softened, and she studied you with a rare gentleness in her eyes.

“Seriously, you really are a goddess. Never knew about this before..”

You felt a warmth in your chest at her words, though you tried to brush it off.

“I’m just me,” you said, stepping closer to her.

Jinx tilted her head, her grin returning, sharper now.

“Yeah, but ‘just you’ is my favorite thing I’ve ever found.”

. . .

“Do the scales also appear on your neck? Waist? Your—“

“Okay, enough questions for today about this!”

“BUT I’M CURIOUS!!”

Calypso!Reader and Jinx masterlist.

[ab-horror]

"you're swaying."

the hand on kevin's hip was not unkind, but it wasn't meant as a comfort, either. more of an anchor to keep him from fully keeling over one way or the other.

"'m fine." the fight had bled out of kevin about an hour ago, one of his patented drunk kevin anxiety spirals finally stealing the wind from his sails. he tries to scowl down at andrew. the blonde only raises an eyebrow at him, the frown on kevin's face curling into a pout instesd of something chastising like kevin intended.

"taking lying lessons from the junkie now?" andrew slowly, methodically manhandles kevin back to the bedroom, pushing him back and down onto the mattress. "i'm tired of babysitting. go to bed." the protest in kevin's throat dies as andrew's fingers curl around the neck of the bottle in kevin's hand, tugging at it. kevin lets go, ever the obedient dog under andrew's hands.

"'drew-"

"bed." andrew leaves no room for discussion. the near empty bottle sloshes quietly as andrew leaves the room. kevin's gaze trails after his form, eyelids heavy.

"fine."

[airas-story]

Infinity Wars in which Strange wasn’t one of the snapped people

Numbness spread through him, overtaking the agony ripping him apart. 

Footsteps pulled his attention. “Tony.” Strange’s voice seemed to reach him through a haze. “Tony.”

Tony looked up. Rage overtook him. “You promised,” he hissed viciously. “You swore, swore, you’d let me die first.” He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly as pain screamed from his side.

Strange caught him. Tony wanted to push away, but Thanos had done damage, his nanite-stitches could hide the damage, not fix it. Not even his anger could keep him standing, right now.

“I know.” Grief lined Strange’s voice. “You’re not going to believe me, but we just got lucky.” A hoarse laugh escaped him, and Tony heard pain there. “We’ll fix this, Tony.”

Tony stared at him, disbelieving. “How?” he asked. How could they possibly fix this?

Strange met his gaze. “When Thanos snapped, the only people in the entire universe who were certain to survive were you, Nebula, and Thor, lives bought and paid for by a stone. Depending on who else survived…” He shook his head. “Thanos’ ‘impartiality’ meant it had to be random. I hadn’t dared hope I’d survive. Most of the time, I didn’t.”

Tony stared at Strange, trying to conceptualize the words. “You expected to die?” The quiet resignation he’d seen in Strange’s eyes after giving the stone away made sense in a whole new way.

Something flickered across Strange’s expression. “I’ve had worse deaths.” Regret and grief filled his eyes. “I’m sorry about Peter, Tony. I…” He took a deep breath. “I had hoped…” His voice broke off. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “For all of this.”

“Can we really fix this?” He needed to know.

Fire lit Strange’s eyes. “Yes. We can.”

Tony took a deep breath, then chose to believe. “Then let’s do it.”

[teddybeartoji]

this going to be a proper wordvomit but i've been thinking about a fucked up little dazai thing,, like what if you two were at the port mafia together when you were younger? orphaned and molded into a perfect little killing machine alongside with him and chuuya.

oh, but what's your ability? well, it's awfully similar to yosano's but it's.. more selfish. while she can also save and heal others, you can't. your ability only works on yourself - you're unkillable. even the smallest cuts fade on your skin, the remainders of everything you've gone through disappearing within hours. you still feel it though. the pain.

you just never fucking die.

tied up, tortured. beaten. cut. shot at. broken bones and bruises. you've seen them all, you've felt them all. but it shouldn't matter.

it shouldn't. this is who you are, right?

you've seen people die hundreds of times, wishing it were you instead. what is the point of this ability if you can never actually do anything useful with it? you're one of the best sharpshots at the port mafia and you know you're way around just about every melee weapon there is but you're still no real competition to the people with real powers. you're just another tool, another soldier. just a shell of a person, sent out mission after mission, no matter whether the fractured bones have already healed or not.

anger builds. shame builds.

something murky.

and it only gets worse after dazai leaves. he understood. he didn't ever say it, but he did. and now he's gone. he's left you behind; there's nobody to lick your wounds or to match your tone and darkness.

and then word gets around that there's someone with an ability similar to yours but better. more useful. and you just... lose it.

mori has no hold on you. he sees it in your eyes, so he doesn't stop you from leaving. you don't say goodbye to chuuya, only leaving him a fancy bottle of wine as a thank you for always having your back. and a note. something along the lines of seeking out your other half.

he's the only one who can do it.

you dream of him wrapping his bandaged hands around your neck and squeezing until you can feel tears dropping onto your face, until your vision blurs, until you can't breathe. until you can't come back anymore. of course, he wouldn't want to do it. he's killed more than anybody could count but with you, it's different. he's finally found something to live for and you haven't. he offers for you to come to the ada with him, he assures you that fukuzawa would listen to him but it doesn't matter.

you're smiling and he isn't. it isn't funny anymore. the gun pointed at kunikida isn't funny anymore. dazai won't do it unless you force him; you know it's going to be hard but you accept it as your one last mission. you will draw your one final breath at the hands of the man who's always been there for you. your friend. your partner.

the only one who should understand.

should.

but maybe he's not who you thought he was. maybe he truly has changed. maybe he really is a better man now. it doesn't matter. you'll break him one last time and let him live his new life. it's only fair.

[1800titz]

A little drabble on Trivia!Harry and inspections (aka the most unsatiating pussy massage)

Trivia!Harry likes to get his girl out of her own head in a really simple way. It’s a little invasive, sure, but it gets the trick done— and, poor girl, her gears are always sort of just turning, aren’t they? It feels like his place to help. His purpose.

And, really, it’s very simple. Easy. And he can tell when she needs it most— when she’s maundering beside him on the couch. Fingers twisting together in her lap. Prating off without a gap to suck a breath in between her teeth to oil the grinding flow.

It’s failsafe.

All he has to do is fold her over the cushion on all fours. Peel her shorts off to bunch over the backs of her thighs, or flip her skirt up over her hips and pry her panties off. Leach the warmth from her pretty, little cunt with the tips of his fingers, prodding her lips apart with either thumb.

It milks the blustery vim behind her skull dry, until all that’s left is an incomprehensible, soporific sludge. Tinted in the haze of humiliation, because it’s embarrassing at its core, isn’t it? His fingers poking at her pussy, tucking the hood of her clit back, brushing over her pulsing seam.

She’s hot-faced, with warmth spuming under her skin and frothing in the pit of her tummy. And of course, it fosters a new snowball down the (suddenly frozen) piste of her brain— absorbed in the way the blunt pad of his forefinger grazes her exposed clit (almost overstimulating, for a nanosecond, before it retreats) and passes.

Because he’s seen her pussy so many times, hasn’t he? Ogled down at the thick of his cock splitting her apart when he fucked into her, thighs pinned apart with his palms on her knees. Parted her lips to spit onto her clit, dewy eyes blown onyx, staring, before he puckered his lips around it. Bullied it with his tongue.

But this is different, this is—

His digits stuffing in past her throbbing (progressively …leaking) seam (his middle finger, twisting in, his thumb tucked to her clit hood). Exploring. Scrutinizing the way he nudges between her legs. The sloppy string of slick that stretches from his skin to her hole when he pulls his finger out.

It’s humiliating to feel him trace a sticky glob of her arousal, pooling, down to her clit. Spreading her folds again, tracing the shape of her swelling button with his thumb (avoiding the screeching nerve endings there, pulsing, twitching like a visible plea for him to touch, please, touch).

And he does, eventually, pulling the hood of her clit back again to scrape the tip of his index so light over her most sensitive bit, just enough of a window to have her hips canting back (almost indiscernible). Have her swollen bud throbbing when he pauses the ministrations (stops to admire the scenery) and her hole twitching. And she knows that he’s …inspecting is the thing. Watching the way her cunt squeezes uselessly at the air, empty and unstuffed.

And that gets her dumb and quiet. Gnawing into the knobs of her knuckles when he’s just peeling her apart to stare, only touching like he’s making observations in some crudely gnarled, abrasively invasive experiment.

When he pinches her clit between his thumb and forefinger, lightly, rolling—

When he spreads her cheeks and pointedly finds her other hole, humming, the nail’s already hilt-deep in the coffin.

That’s his little trick. Gets the job done.

It’s either that, or he collars over the column of her throat with his palm. And then just… squeezes. Watches the cogs stutter through the windows of her eyes, fogged over and misty.

Either or :)

[silent-stories]

Eddie lives with the fear but also with the certainty that sooner or later you will decide to leave him.

He knows that one day you'll start to see him the way everyone else sees him, that you'll realize that you were wrong about him, that in the end, he really was a loser impossible to love.

It's what almost every important person in his life did, and when he realized that, after so many times, maybe he was the problem, he lost hope of finding someone who wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

Precisely for this reason every moment, every small action, every detail is so important to him and scares him at the same time.

Because he knows that one day you won't be there next to him in the morning to gently move the curls from his face and cook pancakes making a mess in the trailer kitchen.

He knows that you will stop waiting for him in the school hallway between lessons for a kiss and you will no longer be in his room every afternoon with a cigarette between your lips sitting on the floor in front of him, holding the guitar in his hands.

He knows you won't be at the Hideout to see his band play anymore and he won't be able to make those stupid jokes about groupies and what you guys will do in the backstage anymore. He knows you won't be there to hold his hand when he wants to bring his mother flowers and the cemetery will seem even more depressing without you by his side.

He knows he'll miss falling asleep reading a book while you lie with your head on his chest and waking up with his arms around your body, holding you close. He knows you will no longer play with his fingers during that boring math class, slipping rings off his fingers and trying them on yours every time.

He knows that one day the trailer will seem so empty without your laughter to fill the silence.

"Can I tell you something?" You ask sitting cross-legged on his bed, turning a small bottle of freshly applied black nail polish on Eddie's nails in your hands.

This is the moment you admit that you don't want to see him anymore, that you're breaking up with him. Eddie knows it.

He would like to say no. He wants to say he doesn't want to hear what you're about to say, but he knows he can't.

"All that you want."

"I think I'm in love with you."

Eddie's heart skips a beat. Maybe more than one. He tries to hide the smile on his lips, he can't find a way to do it and thinks the only way is to kiss you.

Maybe he was wrong. He had been wrong all along and you were not leaving him anytime soon.

When he kisses you you don't care that his nails are still freshly polished and will leave stains on your skin and you don't even care when his teeth collide with yours because he can't stop smiling.

The kiss was your answer, he didn't need to say he was in love with you too.

[vacantfields]

A tear, a torn piece of fabric, a cry for help, yet all is silenced. It has to be. That's how it has to be.

Such is Sun's way of viewing things, which is probably not healthy, he figures, but he's a machine, so maybe it's healthy to be finicky about how you feel- "stop. Stop putting these thoughts in my head." A raspy voice said to him. Raspy...

Sun looked up and was met with red eyes and long black hair. Moon was frowning, his clawed hands on his hips. "What's the matter, Moonie?" Moon rolled his eyes at the simple question Sun asked, always so silly that Moonie.

Moon looked at Sun for a long moment before finally uttering something. "You're distant again. You're supposed to talk with me." He said with a vague gesture of his hand. Sun frowned at that. How could Moon say that to him?

Sun was about to tell Moon just how he felt about that. After all, Moon left their shared body when they got these new android bodies. But he did not get to say anything as Eclipse stood in the corner of the room where they were all standing.

Sun and Moon's eyes were locked to Eclipse's. The tall android smiled unsettlingly, as he always did, and then spoke.

"I have eaten three rats today."

[atimesfeeler]

They were kissing, and there was blood in their mouths Wade didn’t care to wipe away. It was one of Logan’s kinks, and Wade wasn’t one to slut shame. He also wasn’t particularly surprised when he found out. Did you see the way he smiled when Wade’s blood dripped onto his teeth? Nasty.

The blood was from their brawl in the living room over something Wade couldn’t remember . The only thing he remembered was that he started it, purposely riling Logan up to get him to pounce. Technically, Wade won, but Logan used a different rules than he did, declaring whoever was on top was the winner. Wade thought it was common sense that the first one to do something sexy lost. And that included biting his neck and then licking clean the healing wound. Obviously a prelude to super sexy times. There was nothing gayer, actually.

Wade yanked his head back, breaking their kiss solely to run his mouth. He loved kissing. Kissing was great. Kissing with a bloody feral man on top of him was even better. He also loved talking. So far, he hadn’t found a good way to multitask those two things yet.

Logan clearly didn’t have that problem as he set to work kissing and biting down Wade’s neck.

“Bloody brawls really do it for ya, huh?” Wade gasped, arching into the teeth pressing threateningly against his collarbone. Hot breath puffed against the thin skin and pebbled it. “Enough to get you to forfeit?”

“Didn’t forfeit,” Logan rumbled, the words closer to a vibration against Wade’s neck than an audible sound. “I won.”

“Just keeping telling yourself that,” Wade goaded and jerked when Logan closed his teeth around his collarbone like a dog who thought he could rip it out of his skin and bury it in the back yard.

“It’s starting to be a habit, you know,” Wade teased around the little noises of both pain and pleasure zinging through him. “Is beating me up your favorite-“

Wade frowned.

“Shit.”

Logan paused. “What?”

“What’s the word? Pre-game. No, that’s not it.”

Logan attempted to distract Wade by pulling his shirt over his head. Wade just glared at Logan’s fuzzy tits like they held the answers.

“Pre-game. No. It’s- what is it?”

Logan sighed, realizing he was, yet again, losing a battle, and sat back in Wade’s thighs.

“Motherfucker. It’s going to bother me. What’s the word for pre-game but for sex?”

Logan stared at him with a long suffering look. Wade looked around and patted the floor beside his head, looking for his phone to google it.

“You mean foreplay?” Logan deadpanned.

Wade snapped his fingers, “Yes, that’s it! I knew it had something to do with sports. If you ask me, it probably has something to do with the inherent homoeroticism of all male sports. I mean, have you seen those Italian soccer players? Straight up SEX on the field. It’s disgusting. I’m so jealous.”

Logan’s look clearly conveyed that Wade had ruined the mood and something along the lines of why do I even like this idiot?

“So, are we gonna have sex now? Or are you gonna keep daydreaming about Italian soccer players?”

Wade grinned manically up at him. “Depends. Would you consider wearing a soccer uniform?”

[cynicalmusings]

[random-twst-things]

Riddle: Ace, Deuce, keep an eye on Mc/Y/N/Yuu today. They're going to end up saying something to the wrong person and get punched.

Ace: Sure, I’d love to see Mc/Y/N/Yuu get punched.

Riddle: Try again.

Deuce hitting ace in the back of the head: WE will stop Mc/Y/N/Yuu from getting punched.

Riddle: why am I even trusting you two?

Ace: because we're super reliable!

Riddle: ...

Deuce: Is it because we're the only ones available? 😞

Riddle: Yes.

Dividers by/from @/cafekitsune

[spontaneousful]

"Is this really the world we fought so hard for?"

It was a question that always seemed to be on Blondie's mind lately. It was the only thing she could think to say as she stood in Ashlynn Ella's castle, watching the snow fall atop her fresh grave.

Apple, her friend her once-upon-a-time lover her, Apple White, ruler of Ever After, glanced over at her. "Whatever after do you mean?"

Blondie stared out the window and tried to bite her tongue. This conversation was pointless, nothing she could say would change what was. But that budding investigative journalist inside her, the one who wanted to change the world, the one she thought was stamped out long ago, couldn't leave it alone.

"Did we really fight for a future where our friends drop like flies? And condemn those who didn't agree to death along with them?"

She laughed. "Don't be silly. I haven't sentenced anyone to death."

Blondie turned around to face her. "What about Raven?"

"What about her?" Apple's gaze was piercing.

Blondie stared her down, but Apple didn't falter. Instead, she returned the stare with intensity. Blondie sighed and looked away. She couldn't stand up to Apple, she never had been able to. But the flame of anger in her still burned, and instead, she shifted the conversation.

"How many of our friends have to die for you to admit you were wrong? How many have there already been? Briar, Ashlynn, Ginger, Humphrey, Duchess, Meeshell, we're in our thirties, Apple. And yet, I'm attending a funeral every other week."

For a moment, there was no response. Then, she heard the clacking of Apple walking away. "The Ella estate is sorted out. I believe we're done here."

Blondie wanted to stop her. She wanted to scream at her. To curse the unfairness of it all. How hypocritical of her, when she had played no small part in the war of destiny versus choice.

Why? Why had she ever agreed with the side of destiny? Why had she thought this was better? Why had her own happy ever after been worth setting up her friends for slaughter? Why? Why? Why?

[ang3lofdivinity]

Because I’m trying to get back into writing more…

Imagine: Daisuke and you on the Tulpar managing to find time to spend together doing something like.. making food for the crew. No matter what your job is, you’re always willing to help him out with baking whenever needed!

“Dai, can you-“ You immediately freeze, looking over at your boyfriend who has made a rather large mess on the counter. He had dropped the batter out of the mixing bowl somehow, enough for it all to pour out as he holds the messy, metallic bowl and spatula in his hands. His expression? Dumbfounded to say the least

You genuinely cannot contain the giggles that escape your throat upon seeing the scene before you.

“Hey!! This isn’t funny!” He immediately pouts, whipping his head around to face you before looking back down at the bowl, using the spatula to scrap whatever remains are within the bowl and slinging them at you, causing you to laugh even harder - tears falling down your cheeks.

The batter had splattered on your clothes, along with your neck. But hey! At least you got a nice laugh out of it.

Quickly, your hands swiftly grab the nearest thing, which just so happens to be an opened sweetener pack, as you launch it towards him, causing him to squeal like a mouse.

This then, continues. For nearly hours as you laugh and cry about your food fight, throwing ingredients at each other as you can’t find a care in the world for the mess you’re creating. Only caring about your boyfriend’s happiness.

Other food items, utensils (non-harming ones), and bowls were thrown. The bowls and utensils clattered as they fell to the ground, nearly causing you both to fall at certain times as you raced around the dining table in the center, trying to avoid getting hit once more.

There’s honestly nothing that can ruin this-

“What are IDIOTS doing???”

Upon hearing Swansea’s voice, you both instantaneously pause, staring over at the old man standing in the doorway.

Without a second to spare, you quickly rush over to Daisuke, who’s practically trembling under Swansea’s gaze.

“You stupid kids! Why would you waste these products!?” He yells, brows furrowed.

You move in front of Daisuke rather protectively, clearing your throat.

“It was my fault, Mr Swansea. I instigated this, and pressured him to join me in.. what I thought was fun. I’m so sorry. We’ll clean this up right away and salvage all that we can.” You bow your head in respect, lips now pursed.

“Just, don’t do it again..” He huffed as he turned on his heel, now leaving as the door slid shut.

It takes you guys a moment before you start giggling ever so slightly.

Imagine: You are sleeping, and then you suddenly hear your door open in the middle of the night. Surprise, it’s Daisuke! And even when trying to tough it out - he eventually can’t find it within him to go back to sleep without company. So he goes to your room to ask if he can sleep with you because being with you makes him feel better.

You groggily manage to raise yourself enough to sit on your bed, eyes blinking slowly as you try to adjust to your surroundings. Yawning, you finally see who’s opened your door.

Daisuke.

“..Sweetheart, it’s still nighttime. Can whatever you have to say wait until morning?..” Your voice is slightly raspy, but you try your best to sound as kind as you can, giving a small smile to the man in the doorway.

“I um.. sorry- I can go.. I didn’t mean to disturb you..” He fumbles over his words, fidgeting with his fingers as he stumbles backwards a bit. Something.. something seems wrong with his tone, however. Like something’s genuinely going wrong. So, that really gave you a wake-up call.

How could you push away your boyfriend in order to get just a bit more sleep tonight when he seems so distressed??

“Wait!-“ You quickly call out, causing him to stop him from leaving once he showed signs of him beginning to leave. You couldn’t let him leave just like that!

He turns to you, a worried look on his face. As if he’d done something wrong. You’ve seen that look before. He makes the same face whenever Swansea calls out his name all of the sudden, making him stiffen up, worrying that’d done something wrong.

But he hasn’t.

He’s just a young adult, like you.

Just trying to live.

Just. Like. You.

“..Come here.” Your voice is softer, sounding much more normal to how you normally sound - yet it still has that tired tinge to it.

He stares at you for a moment, confused about what’s happening before obliging. He slowly enters, the door sliding closed behind him as he awkwardly stands near the side of the bed where you’re resting. Swiftly, you lift up the covers, moving back a bit before patting the free spot on your bed.

“Come on. We can talk about it in the morning if you’re ready then.”

He almost immediately jumps into your arms upon crawling up into bed with you, wrapping his own around you while burying his face away into your shoulder. One of your hands glides up, finding its way into his hair, tangling with strands of it, stroking his hair, massaging his scalp - doing simple things to try and get him to relax a bit more.

Which works.

He’s out once more, arms wrapped around each other.

Imagine: Giving little gifts to each other with small letters of affirmation written on little post it notes. Even if that small gift is just an article of clothing one of you guys borrowed from the other.

‘You’re doing amazing, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. Keep the good work up, Dai. :)’

- (_____)

Daisuke reads the note attached to a bag of sweetener with a cheeky grin, clearly pleased with this. I mean, he’s been told he’s useless, that he’s just an idiot - but you see through that. You see the effort, the time it takes. Even if it fails, at least he tried to do it.

Quickly he looks around his room for a moment, trying to find the perfect thing to give you.

When he finds it.

.

Upon arriving back to your room from the medic bay, helping Anya with Curly and a few other errands she needed - you’re greeted with the sight of a hoodie somewhat neatly placed on your bed. You furrow your brows, confused for a moment before you approach your bed, now seeing the post-it-note attached to it.

A small grin slowly graces your lips as you tilt your head at the sight, gently taking it off the hoodie.

‘Know that you matter to me! You’re so incredibly awesome, I don’t know how I got to date with someone so cool >:D’

- Daisuke

As your smile grows larger, you realize 2 essential things:

You’re so thankful to have him.

And

He’s the best boyfriend ever. (Even if a bit silly at times).

You love him.

[melz-367]

sat on my school bus rn and I've just had possibly the cutest but most depressing idea ever

what if Lee used to have a habit of collecting ducks?

like, plastic, glass, metal, whatever, just yellow ducks

hats, spots, stripes, accessories, this man has a whole army

and he made a habit of hiding them around cabin seven and the infirmary and when any of his siblings were sad or needed distracting he'd send them to find a specific duck and they'd be searching for the next hour for a fucking yellow and pink polka-dot duck with a tiara

and when he dies, everyone completely forgets about this until Will rummages through a drawer in the infirmary one day and BOOM

cowboy duck✨

and suddenly everyone's finding ducks everywhere, in shoes and drawers and the archery range storage cabinet and that one part of the strawberry fields where Lee and Castor used to hang out and whenever someone missed him they'd all go on a hunt for a duck until they had over a hundred of the fucking things

but still, even years later, after the TOA, Jerry finds a duck with a grapevine hat and a guitar, and Will, Kayla and Austin burst into giggles while he looks at them in confusion

'what? why are you laughing?'

'nothing. nothing at all.'

:D

[marchingbandnerd]

Man, I have never had an obsession period where I’m obsessed with like 4 things at once before.

At least they somewhat make sense cuz they’re all toons derived from older cartoon shorts and they’re all ships and they’re all somehow connected by ducks and- Starscream????- when did you get here 😭

[you-know-i-get-itt]

i want to do a tgr countdown starting today (because 13 days to go) but i want to do it with something and i’m not sure what