#There you go

[inkdetect]

Lalalalala

so jerejean coded

[pouletpourri]

remake of something from 2 years ago

[hatchetmanofficial]

Hi I just played this game recently but I'm curious about the lore and idk where to find it i see a lot of people mentioning boss stu (I keep reading stfu) and idk who those are do i have to read all the asked questions to get the lore going on or I can find it somewhere else? (Anyway here's a squished alan holding a red flag)

MDHM LORE (no spoilers for the actual game):

This is only going to cover the backstories/extra details and the world of MDHM but does not touch what is going to happen in the game. Some TW for the lore, will contain stuff like substance abuse, suicide, toxic relationships, gore and child abuse.

Alan is the main love interest of the game. He is an assassin who lives in the woods in the town that set in the game, far from society but occasionally visits when he has "important" stuff to do. He is the second youngest of four brothers. Claude, Jules, and James. Alan has a pretty strained relationship with them especially after their mother passed away from suicide. Alan ran away during high school and has no connections to the current culture in the modern world.

Erika is a new college friend/classmate you encounter in your English class. She is the only adopted child of two dads with whom she is currently keeping secrets to not disappoint them. She works as an employee in the local skater rink and volunteers at the rescue cat shelter. Erika is very fashion-forward and is pretty smart when it comes to problem-solving and has a hobby of solving mysteries. She has a six-legged cat named Loki and lives with her roommate Rosie.

Stu is a child friend who harbors feelings for the player. He hasn't been in contact with them since they left for college as he stayed in their old town behind. He has an older sister named Toni who also left for university, his mom, and his dad who had a pretty unhealthy and dysfunctional relationship until he moved out. Stu lives in a frat house on school grounds and is a part of a band called the Critters of Wreckage (CoW). Stu struggles with pornography addiction as well as drinking as he became very isolated after not talking with the player.

Carver is Alan's coworker. I have not revealed much about him, other than he has the most trauma, especially during childhood, out of everyone. He has an estranged past he can't quite remember after being hired as an assassin. He is missing pupils but is still able to see. He has a fascination for experimenting and dissecting his victims, even though he really isn't allowed to. I would love to point out that Carver doesn't call the player "Guinea Pig". That name is for his OWN person of interest who he has yet to find. He still calls the player "Doe-Eyes" simply because Alan calls them that. His real name is Calvin and he is 31 years old.

Stitches is another coworker of Alan and Carver. Not much is known about him. He isn't human although he appears to be. Stitches, is in fact, made up of three different body parts from three different people. His head, the torso, and his legs. Stitches was created by Boss.

Boss is, obviously, the boss of Alan. No, he doesn't have a name as he simply just goes by "Boss". He is older than the town, older than time actually. He doesn't have much of a physical form but used roadsigns as a body for him to use. He communicates through images or texts from the signs.

Buck is Alan's dad. He doesn't know that Ophelia has passed away since their separation and is still in love with her. He hasn't seen Alan either but still wants to connect with his son.

[nnicky]

I can't stop thinking about Nicky as a medical student. He doesn't necessarily need to go back to school though he doubts any current practices/hospitals would accept a degree from almost 100 years ago. He's worked as a (certified) medical assistant all the way to a surgeon (in various specialities though maybe he favors general or cardiology). He once got offered a chief of surgery position though he politely declined. He obviously knows how to take care of wounds though he also knows how to make himself still seem wounded in the battlefield or at a hospital. He knows how to make classmates and patients feel comfortable with him.

Nicky wearing scrubs. That's it.

Nicky being the quiet, calm one in class and not at all arrogant when he aces taking vitals or administering injections in the skills labs.

Nicky noticing someone struggling and calmly, gently asking them, "Would you like me to help you?" Maybe they're surprised at how he asks for consent???? He's so polite???

Nicky rolling his eyes at another student when That Guy™ (you know the one) tries to show off and is really annoying about it.

Nicky noticing some of his classmates getting harassed and putting a stop to it.

Nicky cataloguing how medicine has developed in the 21st Century. Maybe he hadn't noticed it before but Andy's mortal now. He needs to know how to take care of her.

Nicky falsifying his medical records to show that he's gotten the required vaccinations and/or blood tests. 7a. When he does this, Joe asks, "Love, why don't you just sign the declination form???" And Nicky's like, "I don't want to lie and put a false reason." Joe's like, "But you're already breaking the law????" Nile literally pretends she does not see it. 7b. Nile doesn't offer help on her own accord though if Nicky asks her, she does.

Joe picking Nicky up from class and sitting on the hood of his car when Nicky walks out. Nicky beams, quickly says goodbye to his classmates, and walks quickly to Joe. The classmates just stop and stare because they've only seen a hint of a smile on his face before.

[http-tempted]

Romance? Build me a pedestal out of other people’s bones who has and will ever do me wrong.

[saxtheduck]

Huh- yeah... silly thing that came up to my mind a while ago... "What if they were both f stupid?"

Sorry for the bad mimicked british- i dont even speak English as my native lenguaje- be kind if I made a mistake pls-

also, didn't know which MJ (MARY JANE NDSKFHE) to put- so I'll probably make him one because i don't like that one, JIJIJIJI-

[ventique18]

An unexpected encounter

(Full sketch under the cut)

[maraskywalkers]

okay so I was on a bit of a "soap survives mw3" soapghost kick & then got on a nikprice kick so now I've been thinking a lot about a "soap lives but is taken by makarov" winter soldier esque au where nik learns soap is alive & in makarov's clutches & ultimately helps rescue him but he doesn't immediately tell Price & the 141 so there's some drama & tension about it

okay so like he doesn't say anything because at first it's only rumors right like very vague underground conspiracy theory type stuff so he's not gonna say anything because he doesn't want to get their hopes up or drag them into some dangerous obsession that could ultimately be fruitless

bc I also headcanon that price goes to nik after killing shepard and the two of them end up spending the night together like you know they have a very intense passionate night where price is actually the most vulnerable he'll allow himself to be & it's emotional & intense & heartbreaking & beautiful okay you know all those things

and anyway it's relevant bc nik has seen where price is at right like what makarov has done to his captain what losing soap has done to him & also the 141 bc price expressed his concerns for them with gaz trying to hold them together while ghost is slowly slipping further away from them

so ok he doesn't say anything but keeps his ears open to anything & ofc starts getting more & more pieces so eventually he actually investigates & then he contacts laswell like this could actually be something but we need actual proof & she's on board even tho the whole thing sounds impossible & they do get their proof that soap is alive & makarov has him

but soap is not soap anymore

he's been tortured & brainwashed a la winter soldier style, he doesn't know who he is or have any memories of the 141, he's just been turned into a weapon for makarov to use however he wants

so nik & laswell decide not tell price, maybe it's more laswell than nik (she's worried this might actually break them & they're barely holding it together as is?) but they ultimately agree & make a deal to find a way to bring soap back & bring soap home before they do

and I'm not totally sure what I want but I like the idea of them getting him back & he winds up staying with nik for a while in like a safehouse or some hidden location while they help him and want to reach out to price & the 141 like as soon as they him secured at the safehouse but they aren't able to right away like maybe the 141 got a lead on makarov so they're on the other side of the world & had to go dark or something like there's a disruption in their ability to communicate

but makarov can still finds out that soap has been not only discovered but rescued before nik or laswell can get the 141 bc like it's not something they can drop in a phone call they're trying to tell them in person & everything you know?

but anyway I kinda like them finding out thru makarov bc he thinks that it's them like he knows they're all a team or whatever & he knows who has soap so he makes some sort of comment about him and price is like wtf are you talking about & bc makarov is a sadistic bastard he laughs all like oh you don't know & idk it's a whole thing

but so then! ofc they get a hold of laswell & nik & it all comes out & it's terrible bc the 141 is hurt & angry but like price is esp hurt by nik not telling him bc he was there after & what they talked about & how price had opened himself to nik about losing soap & nik is like I wanted to tell you but I had to be sure I could bring him back to you first & also like "I didn't know then, I didn't know that night, I swear to you" and it's all emotional & tense but they end up making up (and eventually making love again ofc)

and oh actually I think I had the idea of it being soap eventually like calling price & gaz & ghost out on being mad but probably moreso ghost I think actually bc price works thru it with nik & laswell on a more personal level bc they have history there the three of them & gaz does too but it's different & ofc he is upset but I think he'd be able to understand a bit more whereas ghost who is already not great at feelings is like still reeling from soap being alive & being kept from him by a friend/ally (past trust issues popping up again) that he hasn't even begun to process soap being tortured & brainwashed yet so soap has to bring him around

like a soap who's been slowly coming back to himself with help but maybe he's not totally there but enough that he gets it you know he appreciates what nik & laswell have done for him & are still doing & he's able to offer perspective like "it was awful Lt I think if you'd seen me it've killed ya" (ghost would have some comment about like already being dead or how losing soap almost killed him, you know something dramatic & devastating & borderline romantic all at once) and eventually they mend all the rifts & everything

and I focused on nikprice here but it is equally in my head as a soapghost story like soap is never fully gone so the heartbreak of remembering but not remembering & recovering & dealing with the fallout of having been makarov's & all of the guilt & shame he'd feel (uncalled for obvs but he'd still grapple with it) and like knowing simon before he fully remembers him and just being heartbreaking

and ghost too like I have a line in my head when price is confronting nik that's along the lines of "we almost lost simon" bc ghost was not handling his grief well and like i can't decide if they were pre relationship or established relationship but I'm a sucker for the ghost hadn't ever said I love you out loud to soap yet thing so it's especially like gut punch

but ultimately a happy ending ofc for all of them!! like bucky barnes soap gets his mind, his memories, himself back and he heals & so does ghost & the rest of the 141 & soapghost probably get married bc I love that and nikprice actually acknowledge they're in love & committed to each other

so yeah if you read all of that wow thank you sorry if it wasn't totally coherent I've played mw1 & mw2 but haven't finished mw3 so sorry if things are inaccurate or just like weird & silly

I have no current plans to actually write this fic bc I don't have the confidence to do it justice or the motivation to try right now but like who knows??

but! if you're a fic writer & you wanna take it & run with it please do!!!! just let me know so I can read it!! same for fan artists!

[galedekarios]

🤍🏵️🤍

[againaweasel]

I deleted twitter ages ago so correct me if I’m wrong as I’ve only seen the screen shot on tiktok.

But JK recently tweeted, in response to a tweet about actors/actresses that ruin films for people, “three guesses.”

1.) that’s insane behaviour

2.) all but confirms that one of her motivations for the whole reboot is because the OG golden trio aren’t transphobic enough for her — so they’ve “ruined” those films for her. She wants to start over with new kids she can shape into better transphobes.

[buzzcutlip]

All to Myslef Richie Jerimovich x Fem!Reader Explicit! 3300 words A/N: Obsession!Richie lives rent free in my head. The first part comes two days after this, the second part sometime after this. Just playing with the Obsession!verse, trying to string it together and create a timeline...

You’re terrified of looking Richie in the eye after what happened. You don’t even let yourself think about it. Too much. After giving it two days — full of sleeping late because you couldn’t fall asleep before 2:30 a.m., sweeping greasy popcorn from under the wonky seats in the rubbish cinema you work at during the summer — you go to his apartment.

There’s no use calling Richie; his phone is usually dead or on silent. So you have to face it. Him. Obviously, you go there prepared — having decided not to make a deal out of the kiss. Actually — deciding to forget it completely. You’re absolutely FINE to carry on with him as if nothing happened.

Of course you’re freaking out! But he doesn’t have to know that.

Richie’s not home, so naturally, you go to The Beef. The walk is only around 20 minutes, during which you pop into a 7-Eleven to grab an energy drink — very bad for you!! — and a granola bar to balance the unhealthiness out.

The usual ruckus accompanies the kitchen when you get in through the back, hoping not to stumble onto Mikey. He would probably find it odd that you’re here since he and Richie have been fighting — or something. So you sneak in — quickly and cheekily — and ask Tina about him. Nonchalantly, leaning against the greasy countertop. She says she hasn’t seen Richie in weeks. Your eyebrows shoot up because that’s a bit too long, even for idiots like Mikey and Richie, who are actually in love with each other. Then Ebra turns around from meat prepping.

“He’s probably with his girlfriend,” he points out.

That’s how you learn about Tiff — his girlfriend, Tiffany — and you swear your heart does stop for a moment right then.

You don’t look for him after that. You stumble from the kitchen and actually bump into Michael, who doesn’t see you, because neither of you says “behind” or “corner” or “fuck.” He swears at you, but you don’t hear a thing — already out the door with The Beef behind your back.

You walk fast. Like someone’s chasing you. Or like you’re trying to outrun something inside your own head. Spoiler: you can’t.

You chuck the half-drunk energy drink into a bin without looking. The granola bar stays unopened in your hoodie pocket. You keep walking.

It’s hot out. The kind of Chicago summer heat that clings to your neck and makes your hair feel heavier. You think about texting someone — anyone — just to anchor yourself, but who would you even text? You’ve made Richie your anchor, and now he’s busy being someone else’s.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you don’t care. That it was just a kiss. That you’ve had kisses before. People kiss all the time. People kiss drunk. People kiss wrong. You kiss someone you don’t think about constantly afterward.

You end up at the lake. Don’t even remember deciding to go there. You’re just suddenly standing at the water’s edge, your shoes kicked off, toes in the gritty sand. Some family is barbecuing nearby, a dad yelling at a toddler to keep his hat on. You sit.

Your phone buzzes.

For a second — one very stupid second — you think it’s Richie. Some dumb message like Where you at? or You at The Beef? or just that emoji he sends when he wants something but refuses to spell it out.

It’s not him. Of course it’s not. It’s a reminder that your shift starts tomorrow at the cinema. Great. Can’t wait to vacuum popcorn while thinking about Richie and his mysterious girlfriend, who apparently exists and has a name like Tiffany — which feels both expected and devastating.

Maybe you’ll run away. To, like, Oregon. Or somewhere equally stupid and damp. You could grow your hair out and learn to knit. Change your name to something weird like June or Lark or Trashboat. Anything to not be this girl. The one who kissed Richie and now can’t stop thinking about what it means. More so — what it means when he has a girlfriend.

Squeezing your eyes tight against the burning sensation, the only relief is that you don’t have to run to Oregon. Just back to college — in not that long. Maybe you can afford to return to your dorm a bit earlier. Or you can crash at Hannah’s.

--- present day ---

Richie turns up on Sunday evening, as agreed, plastic bag in one hand, bottle of red in the other. He’s not wearing a suit, but still puts more effort into his appearance than he used to. Blue jeans and a navy jumper, the chain poking from the collar. You think he’s trimmed his beard.

“I’ve got wine,” he shows you as a form of greeting.

“I’ve got beer,” you almost wince, thinking of the Old Style six-pack cooling in the fridge — the one you bought specifically with Richie in mind, back from those years when you were a long shot from being twenty-one, and Richie let you drink them on the front steps of his building.

“Oh,” he falters sheepishly but hands you the bottle and the plastic bag awkwardly. The room is quiet after, filled with the weird nervous energy Richie gets when he doesn’t know the rules. You’re not doing much better — just getting the advantage of knowing this territory of your home.

“I thought we could order the Thai I told you about?” you turn around, no longer able to fake pottering around the kitchen cabinets.

“Yeah,” Richie nods seriously, considering the idea. “Yeah. And I’ve brought a dessert. In — in here.”

He picks up the blue plastic bag with a white container inside again from where you’d left it by the fridge. “It’s not fancy — just something we made with Eva today,” he sniffles, feigning nonchalance, but you know how much he loves talking about his daughter.

“Oh, sorry!” you remember yourself, taking the bag from him and popping it into the last empty spot in the small fridge.

“It’s strawberry tiramisu,” Richie says from behind your back. “Wouldn’t let Eva have it with coffee, obviously,” he explains, the proper father that he is, and you smile to yourself.

You take out your phone to text in the Thai order, your thumbs unable to match the light speed of your brain. They’re stiff, and you get lost minutely while deciding what’s the best order — nothing garlicky or overly spicy. It feels like a test you have to pass — make the right food choice — but your mind is elsewhere with Richie in the same room.

He must notice your struggle because the next moment you feel his presence as he takes the phone from your shaking hands.

“Hey,” he says gently, setting the phone on the counter. “C’mere.”

You let him take your wrist, let him pull you closer. The light buzzes softly above your heads, and the only other sound is the fridge humming like it’s holding its breath.

When you dare to really look at Richie — his face — there’s a smile. Genuine and soft, the kind you’re not used to seeing on him anymore. It reaches his eyes, makes the thin skin around them crinkle. It makes your heart ache something terrible. For the very first time in years — probably since that damn kiss in his kitchen — you let your guard down, letting your feelings show on your face as you smile back.

He lets go of your wrist and touches your waist instead — just rests his hand there like he’s grounding you, thumb brushing slow arcs over the hem of your T-shirt — and then he leans in for a kiss. It’s nothing like the others — none of the frantic, messy heat from the party or the anger-laced ones before that. This one is soft, unhurried. His lips are warm and patient, like he’s trying to tell you something with the way he moves.

You slide your hand up to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the navy knit. He deepens the kiss just slightly, letting your tongues touch briefly. His thumb slips under the fabric of your shirt just slightly, his touch warm, as he leans back.

“You can order whatever you want, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple, still holding you close. “Doesn’t have to match the stupid wine.”

You huff a laugh through your nose — because it’s easier than crying.

While you’re waiting for the order you haphazardly put in on the app, conversation flows easier, touching on safe topics: work, Carmy’s latest meltdown, a weird TikTok trend Richie can’t understand, the flower arrangements by the restaurant’s entrance.

“So,” you say, to fill the silence. “How’s Eva?”

“She’s good,” he replies, his voice softening. “Lost her first tooth last week. Thought she’d be scared, but nah—she was, like, thrilled. Wrote this little note to the tooth fairy in bubble letters.”

His face glows. It physically glows.

You take a sip of wine that’s been poured to keep your heart from doing something embarrassing.

“That’s cute.”

“Yeah. She’s a freakin’ riot,” he says, smiling to himself.

There’s a beat, and then: “She’d like you.”

You blink. “What?”

Richie’s eyes dart up to yours, suddenly realizing what he’s said. “I mean. Just. You know. You’re good with kids. Or—I always thought you would be.”

Your face crumples a bit, because this is the life Richie’s kept you out of — his family. You weren’t invited to his wedding with Tiffany, you’ve never seen Eva, he didn’t tell you he was getting a divorce.

“You always had that thing,” he adds, quieter.

You don’t know what that thing is, but it makes your throat tighten — you were fucking eighteen the last time he really knew you, so you pretend to focus on the sound of the buzzer going off. The food’s here.

Richie gets up like it’s his job. He insists on paying, says something dumb like “I’m a gentleman,” and you roll your eyes, but not unkindly. When he brings the bags back into the kitchen, the smell fills the room.

You don’t even make it to the table. Plates stay forgotten on the counter as you both hover over the cartons. Richie cracks a plastic spoon trying to open the curry container and you nearly drop the rice laughing. When he dips his finger into the peanut sauce and licks it off quickly, it’s decided that this dinner doesn’t need a proper setup.

You settle side by side against the counter, hips bumping occasionally as you work your way through the spread, enjoying the rich flavors and chatting nonsense between bites.

Richie keeps making these low noises when something tastes good, humming around bites like it’s the best thing he’s had in years. At one point, he scoops a too-big forkful of noodles, and half of them slide off onto his jumper.

“Christ,” he groans, looking down.

You snort. “You eat like a toddler.”

“Yeah? Well, toddlers get bibs and free snacks, so.”

Before you can roll your eyes, he picks up a spring roll and holds it out to you. “Open up, baby.”

You give him a look, but open your mouth anyway. He feeds it to you, exaggeratedly careful, like he’s some doting waiter in a romcom, and you almost choke laughing.

“Good?” he asks, close enough that you can feel his breath on your cheek.

You nod, chewing. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” He gasps, mock offended. “Wow. Wow. Here I am, slaving over a takeout menu, and you say not bad.”

You nudge him with your elbow, playful — but your heart’s thudding a little louder now.

Richie catches your wrist before you can pull away. His fingers curl loose around yours, his thumb brushing soft, slow over your pulse point.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice suddenly different. Not a joke. “This… this is good, yeah?”

You don’t know if he means the food or this—this strange, sweet moment between you two. But you nod.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice just as soft. “It’s good.”

For dessert — his and Eva’s strawberry tiramisu — you actually consider taking out plates, but Richie stops you, finding two spoons by the drying rack and opening the plastic container.

“You need to be the first to taste it,” he says seriously, like he hasn’t tried it yet. You don’t believe him for one second — like he didn’t have a single bite while making it with Eva.

“Then I’m gonna have to sit down for this special occasion,” you retort, sitting down by the round table in the corner of the kitchen, making a spectacle out of it while you both snicker.

He grins, playing along. “Right. The lady requires seating for this momentous event.”

Richie sets the open container in front of you with a flourish, like he’s serving some fancy dessert at The Bear. You meet his eyes over the plastic rim, his grin boyish and wide.

You take the spoon from his hand, careful not to touch his fingers — though it’s stupid because you’ve been bumping shoulders all evening. Still—this feels different. Charged.

You scoop a bite, careful to get a bit of everything: soft sponge, whipped cream, strawberries. The second it hits your tongue, the sweetness blooms — light and airy with a sharp kick of fruit.

You close your eyes and hum, overly dramatic. “Wow. Who’s your pastry chef, Berzatto?”

Richie chuckles under his breath. “You like it?”

You open your eyes again — and he’s watching you like this actually means something to him. Like your opinion matters.

“It’s great,” you say, softer this time. “Tell Eva she’s a genius.”

His smile falters for a moment, goes softer, quieter. “Yeah,” he says. “I will.”

He sits down across from you, spins his spoon between his fingers, eyes dropping to the table. You’re not laughing now, but it’s not awkward. It’s full. Heavy in a way that makes your chest ache. You think of all the things he means to you, all the things he represents — a significant male figure, an adult who would care for you, safety, love.

You must have stopped eating, and when you look up, Richie’s eyes are already on you.

“What���s up?” he frowns.

You shake your head a little, forcing a crooked smile. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

Richie studies you for a beat longer, like he’s trying to read a language he half-remembers.

“About what?”

You drop your gaze to the tiramisu, push the spoon gently against the sponge. “Dunno. Stupid stuff.”

He exhales a soft laugh, leaning back in the chair. “You don’t do stupid stuff.”

That makes you huff, but you feel your throat catch anyway. He’d always thought the best of you, always told you how smart you were. No one ever believed in you like he did.

You don’t do stupid stuff. But you do this. Sit in your kitchen with Richie Jerimovich and think about things you’ve got no business thinking about. Like what it would’ve been like if you’d never fallen out. If you hadn’t wasted years pretending you didn’t care. If this wasn’t just a random Sunday night.

Richie’s foot bumps yours under the table — soft, a nudge more than a kick. Your eyes flick back up to him.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter now, a hint of real concern coloring his voice.

And maybe it’s because he’s looking at you like that, or because you’re so fucking tired of holding it all in — but you say, honest before you can stop yourself:

“I missed you.”

Richie blinks. His lips part, like he wasn’t expecting it.

You swallow around the knot in your throat. “I really… I missed you, Richie.”

The silence after is loud in your little kitchen. But he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t joke. Instead, he ushers you to him, pulling you gently down to his lap. He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing the top of it while his unfairly deep blue eyes stare right into your soul, watching you die a little in the moment.

He murmurs, soft and sure: “Yeah. I missed you too.”

That’s how you kiss again — sitting sideways on Richie’s lap, your arms thrown around his shoulders, his around your waist, holding tightly. The taste of strawberries and sugar coats your tongues and it adds an exciting element to all of it.

When you shift, angling yourself better, the movement pulls a soft sound from him — something low that rumbles against your chest. It sends a shiver straight through you.

“Wait, baby,” you stop Richie mid-kiss, and he chases your mouth blindly, which tugs right at your heart. You pull him up and stumble a couple of steps until your back is leaning against the counter again, Richie pushing you against it while resuming the kiss with heated force.

Parting from Richie’s mouth only reluctantly, you take a deep breath and look down between your bodies. His erection isn’t visible through the thick layer of denim, but you’ve felt how hard he is. With trembling fingers, you open the button, tugging the zipper down.

“What you doin’?” Richie slurs against the side of your head, pressing his forehead against yours, watching your actions together with you.

“Shhh,” you shush him, focusing on the task at hand — literally — sliding your fingers under the waistband of his underwear.

Your hand wraps around him, slow and deliberate, and Richie lets out a sharp breath that fans against your cheek. His grip on your waist tightens, fingers digging into your hip like he’s holding on for dear life.

“Jesus,” he mutters, the word dragged low from his throat. You start moving your hand gently, finding a rhythm, watching the way his lips part, how his brows draw together. He looks wrecked already — and you’ve barely touched him.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted to have all of you, only for myself,” you whisper fervently into the space between you.

He presses his forehead harder against yours, eyes fluttering shut. You feel one of his hands bracing on the countertop behind you, steadying.

You smile, barely, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I missed you,” you say again, this time a little breathless. “Tell me what you like,” you utter the words you’d been dying to for years — that you’d imagined having the courage to say in a moment like this, touching him intimately, having his body and soul and more all to yourself.

Richie’s hand slips under your shirt, spreading across your back, pulling you in closer — his hips giving a slow roll into your hand like he can’t help himself.

“A bit faster now. I like it when you touch the head too,” Richie chokes out after a pause.

You let out a soft hum, tightening your grip slightly as you follow his words, your thumb brushing gently over the head just like he asked. His reaction is immediate — a low, wrecked sound from deep in his chest, like it’s been bottled up for years.

“Yeah… yeah, like that,” Richie rasps, eyes squeezing shut. His hand curves around the back of your neck, holding you close but not forcing anything, just grounding himself in you. You feel the tremble in his arm, in the way his breath catches.

You press a kiss to his jaw, dragging your lips across the stubble, murmuring, “Been thinking about this… about you...”

“Fuck,” Richie swears under his breath, his hips giving another slow thrust into your hand. “Why didn’t we—why didn’t I—”

“Doesn’t matter now,” you cut him off softly, tightening your fingers in rhythm with the roll of his hips.

His mouth crashes back onto yours — hot, hungry, messy — and he’s the only thing that exists.

[fromkenari]

Unfortunately, I cannot find the top photo any larger yet.

[coline7373]

[crazyhappycat]

Inho held him thight in his arms. As if he didn’t hold on thight enough, the world would take him far far away from him so he never could see him again

This wasn’t suppose to happen. The bullet was meant for him, not Junho.

Gihun came with the gun, pointed it at Inho. And Inho didn’t mind it at all. He was done. This place. Those games have taken everything for him. His wife. His child. His friends. His humanity. He wanted to go

And in the end of the day, Gihun is a kind a man. Something Inho once was. He can only prey Gihun doesn’t go down the same path as him

But when he fired…

Junho

His brother

His stupid, selfless, loving brother

Had ran infront of him and taken the bullet himself

He layed in his hyung’s arms. Inho promised him! Promised him he would give Junho whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t give up. As long as he didn’t close his eyes

"All I want is for you to come home. Please, come home, hyung."

Those last words will forever haunt him

Inho barely noticed Gihun kneeling down infront of him

Inho held his namdongsaeng thighter than he though was possible.

Inho was an evil man. He deserved everything the world had to throw at him

But for the love of God

Don’t take him away

Don’t take his brother away

Please

For the love of God!

"Don’t take him. Do whatever you want. Beat me. Shoot me. Kill me. Just please don’t take him" Inho said. He didn’t even know he had started to cry. He didn’t care either. All that mattered now was Junho.

And instead of taking him away…

Gihun only knelt down and hugged the body

[a-girl-named-angel]

Starter for: @toranoya

Though activity from the spirits was low as of late, this did pose a good question even though it was Bumi’s to begin with. What sort of spirits lingered in the mortal realm and could they be categorized?

This simple though complex in execution job was given to one of master Tenzin’s more promising students. She would be tasked with visiting major cities and taking notes of the spirits that resided there and to report back any negative activity.

The city of Zaofu was not Angel’s first destination nor her last in her long list. But was an interesting stop to see a city comprised of metal…. Even if it made landing with her eaglelion Meili a challenge in the middle of the day with all the light refraction. Thankfully, it was a smooth one and upon entering and seeing the layout, was greeted by Suyin (who was updated on her arrival).

Though solo introductions were a bit of a challenge for her, Angel still did her best to maintain the politeness and pleasantries that the air nomads were known for. Though she was almost instantly reassured that it wasn’t necessary.

Because she’d be staying with the Beifong’s during her visit, it was only fair, she’d meet the family (that she hadn’t already met through training). All the while she was fascinated with all that could be done with metal. From crimefighting to art.