#challenge accepted >:D

[isjasz]

[Day 239]

Some practice on building poses myself and action poses :D You can prob tell which ones I drew free hand and which ones I used refs for LOL (also hg and cg work really well for action poses practicing actually i might draw them more)

Yeah don't mind me just turning ddd into things i want to practice drawing HASDJKSAH

[autumnmobile12]

When people say, 'You can't ship that! Those characters have never met!'

Those characters have never met.

...and???

...

I found a tiktok the other day where a bunch of people in the comments were going on about how stupid it was that people were shipping X with Y because those characters never met in canon or only shared one interaction in canon and how '...the fandom is unfortunately like that.'

So here's the thing:

My sister and I used to play a game where we would come up with ships based on names pulled from a hat and judging what random pairings came out of it. Didn't matter the fandom, didn't matter the characters. (Except age gaps that were too wide for comfort and underage-adult ships.) The crazier the better, and we came up with some pretty weird but wholesome ones. My sister also has an entire fic of one-shots featuring Soul Eater rare-pairs that are so rare, they are unicorns in that fandom.

Crossover ships (platonic or romantic or otherwise) are my jam.

One of my favorite ships is a crossover ship. Shizuo Heiwajima (Durarara!!) and Adult!Mai Taniyama (Ghost Hunt) sure as hell have never met, I’m pretty certain I’m the only one here, but I didn't let that stop me.

I've shipped Seras (Hellsing) and Lenore (Castlevania Netflix). No particular reason, I just like it.

The cast of D. Gray Man is so diverse and insane that you can put any two characters together and you'll get either an interesting ship, an interesting conversation, or at the very least, a very entertaining argument.

The My Hero Academia fandom likes to write fanfiction where Mirko and Hawks are besties. Those characters never talk in canon. They share maybe one or two scenes together and they don't directly interact. It's just vibes.

And 'just vibes' is pretty much the entire essence behind some ships.

The Castlevania Netflix fandom loves Trephacard so much that I once saw a post here on Tumblr where someone admitted they legitimately forgot it wasn't a canon ship. Alucard and Trevor interact quite a bit, sure, but the point still stands. It's fanon, people love it, deal with it.

The Harry Potter Drapple ship was a thing. (Or maybe it's still a thing, I don't know, I'm not in the Harry Potter fandom.) So don't tell me I can't ship X with Y because they've never met in canon when there is a literal person x inanimate object ship floating around the internet.

I. Don't. Care that X and Y never met. Maybe they have some niche thing in common was worth exploring. Maybe they have similar personalities. Maybe they're total opposites and that was the appeal. Maybe I just woke up and felt like it. The whole point of fanfiction is that does not have to be canon-compliant. Did you expect a word for word document of the source material?

X and Y have certainly never met. But what if they did? Is that not what fanfiction is for?

We're here to have fun, express ourselves, and maybe work through personal issues we got going on in private.

Personally, after coming from some smaller fandoms that primarily work with only one or two ships and nobody mixes it up, I like the variety of a multi-ship fandom. Or no ships at all. It’s nice to also avoid the drama when you don't feel like reading the shipping material.

At the end of the day, don't go shaming/harassing people for shipping what they like, whether it's a mainstream ship or a rare-pair that's so rare it's got an audience of one. If it's a ship you don't like or find problematic, just don't read it. Go find something you do like. (Trust me, there's a part of the Black Butler fandom I stay far away from.)

Let people like what they like, let people be weird, let people build their ships from scratch if they want.

Tag everything properly.

Have fun.

Or Reepicheep will pay you a visit.

And to anyone who says, 'You can't ship that, those characters have never met.'

[bloomingkyras]

End of Spring..And that means, its gonna be Summer tomorrow and the whole fam had decide to go to the Last spring x Summer Getaway at Granite Fall.

[froliginal]

Oh my fucking god childe how are you this unhinged

[yoshi-geekdom]

Just finished binging Bungo Stray Dogs over the last couple of weeks!

I didn't expect to like it so much, but I do!

So many twists and turns, a handful of dramatic ironies (been so long since I had me some of that!) all leading to this one big plot. The characters are all so fun and interesting and relatable!

Some (Nikolai for example) I fell in love with the moment they were introduced; others (like Ranpo) I had to warm up to.

I've been making a playlist on my YT of audiobooks that each of their abilities is named for (and other works written by their respective namesakes), 'cause I'm sure there are a handful of references I missed the first time around.

Also, the spin-off, Bungo Stray Dogs Wan! is just so funny and adorable with everything chibified! (I need the end credits animation, but as a GIF; I think it'd look good on this blog!) It's all very lighthearted, which is a refreshing change of pace after some of the heavier parts of the main series...

I've only seen the dub so far, but it's very good; the VAs really do give it their all here! I can tell they're having a lot of fun recording.

All in all, it is a great series that deserves more recognition. I plan to read the manga next, the main series and the spin-offs; wish me luck!

[the-real-pink-ninja]

@raphala-389

Which fruit are you? Find out here!

Tagging: @actuallysaiyan @beneathstarryskies @akiraiscute @randoimago @multi-fandom-imagine @iambilliejeanok @icycoldninja @abellaheart-blog @terabyteturtle @philistiniphagottini

[joelsrose]

Dark Matter

i haven't written reed before but here we go! i hope yall enjoy xx

warnings: fingering, age gap? (reader is mid 20's), cheating (sorry sue), power-dynamic, semi-public

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

You walked into the lab the same way you always did—quietly, carefully, your notebook hugged to your chest like a shield, pages dog-eared and smudged with graphite, filled with half-solved equations, theoretical scribbles, and tiny margin doodles of molecules and stars.

The click of your heeled boots echoed off the cold, polished floor, a sound that somehow felt too loud in the stillness of the room. The air inside was always a little too cold, like the whole space was suspended in a vacuum—untouched by the warmth of human hands—but you liked it that way. It made you feel sharp, focused. Like anything could happen here. Like everything already had.

It had been exactly seven days since you started your internship under Mr. Richards—or Reed, as he’d insisted you call him on the very first day, his tone polite but firm, eyes flickering to yours with something unreadable when you stammered out “Dr. Richards” instead. The man was brilliant. Obviously. He was also deeply intimidating in the way only truly intelligent people could be—effortlessly so, like he didn’t notice the way the rest of the world bent around his mind.

He wasn’t cruel, not at all, but there was something about him that made your pulse skip whenever he turned to you with a question, something about the way he spoke in low, thoughtful tones, his hands always busy with some piece of machinery or scribbling formulas on the glass board like his thoughts couldn’t be contained by paper.

You’d been selected from a pool of thousands—won the LUMINA International Science Initiative, a fellowship that granted a single spot, once a year, to shadow one of the world’s leading innovators.

You never expected to get it. You’d submitted your proposal last-minute, half-convinced it was too ambitious, too naive. But something about it must’ve caught their attention—maybe your hypothesis on temporal field distortions, maybe the way you phrased it like a love letter to curiosity itself. Either way, it landed you here, standing just inside the threshold of the Baxter Building’s most secured lab, wearing your best skirt and your favorite boots, heart thudding in your chest like a metronome gone mad.

You adjusted your grip on your notebook and cleared your throat softly, the sound swallowed by the lab’s cavernous quiet. “Morning,” you offered, voice smaller than you meant, eyes sweeping the room for him—half-hoping he wasn’t here yet, half-hoping he was.

From behind one of the massive monitors, you heard the gentle clink of metal, followed by a low voice.

“You’re early.”

You turned and there he was, sleeves rolled to his forearms, collarbone peeking where his lab coat had come undone. His hair was tousled, like he’d been up for hours already, running his hands through it between equations. There was graphite smudged on his wrist, and a faint streak of oil down one thumb, and somehow that made him look even more untouchable. He glanced over his shoulder at you, then down at your notebook.

“More scribbles?” he asked, one corner of his mouth lifting—not quite a smile, but close enough to make your chest flutter.

You nodded, holding it out. “A few questions from last night. I kept thinking about the energy dispersion curve in the 5-D field model, and—well. It didn’t make sense that it plateaued. Not at those values.”

He took the notebook, flipping through the pages like he was reading a novel written in his own handwriting, then looked up at you with a sliver of something warmer in his gaze.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I think you might be the first person to ever challenge that curve. Everyone else just accepted it.”

You blinked. “Oh. I—didn’t mean to be... disrespectful or anything.”

“You weren’t.” He looked back at the page, his brow furrowing like he was genuinely considering your notes. “You’re just... asking the right questions.”

And the way he said that—asking the right questions—it made your cheeks heat, made your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag like you were suddenly fifteen again, flustered and awkward and unsure of what to say next, even though you were here because you belonged here, even though you were brilliant in your own quiet way.

He glanced at you again, slower this time, eyes scanning your face like he was watching a theory unfold in real time, and said, “Let’s run it. See if you’re right.” Just like that, like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean the world.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

Hours passed, though you barely noticed them. What started as a single equation quickly unraveled into an entire evening of hypotheses and recalibrations, the two of you moving around each other in this strange, quiet rhythm—typing, adjusting, scribbling, calculating, retrying, failing, fixing, retrying again.

The room had fallen into that kind of sacred stillness where every noise felt sharper—the whir of machines, the scratch of pencils, the occasional creak of the stool beneath you. Every time a result came back wrong, you’d lean in beside him and try again. Every time it came back right, your shoulders would touch, just barely, and you’d both say nothing.

And then it happened again—casual, effortless—Reed stretched.

This time, to grab his phone from across the room without moving from his chair, his arm extending impossibly far and elegant, fingers curling around the device with that same practiced ease, like it was just another part of his body responding to his mind. You watched it happen with that same quiet awe you always did, eyes following the length of his arm as it retracted, as he settled back into himself like it hadn’t been strange at all, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t even the stretch itself, not really—it was the nonchalance, the way he didn’t even think about it. But you did. You thought about it too much.

You were still thinking about it when he glanced at his screen, a quiet frown flickering across his face.

“It’s eight already,” he murmured, thumbing through a text. “We’ve been here all day.”

You blinked, surprised by the time, and then watched as his expression shifted—something soft and faintly guilty tugging at the edge of his mouth as he read whatever had been sent to him.

“Sue made dinner,” he said after a beat, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand like he hadn’t sat down for a proper meal in days. “Guess I should…”

He trailed off as he stood, the chair sliding back with a scrape, and something in your chest twisted—tight and unexpected. Not sharp enough to hurt, but deep enough to notice.

You weren’t sure if it was jealousy, exactly, but there was something inside you that ached a little at the thought of him leaving. At the thought of him sitting across from someone else, in a warm apartment somewhere above the city, eating food someone else had made for him, laughing over things that had nothing to do with lab results or radiation curves or the way your hands always trembled just slightly when he got too close.

You didn’t realize you were staring until he glanced back at you with one brow arched, curious, amused, his coat slung half over his arm and a faint smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Something wrong?” he asked, voice low and too steady, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it.

“No,” you said quickly, too quickly, the word tripping over itself on your tongue. “No, nothing.”

He looked at you for a long second, long enough that your skin prickled under the weight of it, his eyes steady and a little too knowing, like he could see past your flustered expression and straight into the chaos of your thoughts. Then—he chuckled, soft and brief, like the sound had slipped out before he could stop it, low and warm and close enough to make your pulse stutter.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, not in disapproval, but something more bemused—like he found you endlessly curious and had all the time in the world to figure you out.

You ducked your head, the heat rising in your cheeks again, blooming in a flush that you tried to suppress with a tight little smile, your fingers worrying the corner of your notebook as though it could ground you, steady you, hide the fact that your heart was now pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.

Then his voice came again, low and coaxing, that soft velvet drawl of someone deeply used to being the smartest man in the room—“Come on,” he said, “what’s going on in that brilliant mind?”

And you should’ve lied. You should’ve laughed it off, said something safe, something neutral, something clever and unassuming and appropriately scientific. But your brain had been wandering all week—had been drifting there over and over again, uninvited, unwelcome, inappropriate, gnawing at the edges of your curiosity in the quiet moments between experiments.

You’d tried not to think about it, tried not to let your gaze linger when he stretched, tried not to imagine what else could stretch, how far, how much, how deeply.

And somehow—somehow—it slipped out of your mouth before your brain had a chance to intercept it, just a whisper of a thought spoken aloud, soft and breathless and too curious to be innocent.

“Does everything stretch?”

The silence that followed was instant and absolute.

You heard it in the way the machines kept humming but your breath caught.

You felt it in the way Reed’s eyes snapped to yours, too quickly, like he wasn’t expecting that.

And you saw it—oh, you saw it—in the way he froze, the way the lines at the corners of his mouth shifted, lips parting slightly like he was about to speak but couldn’t quite remember how.

Your eyes widened almost immediately, your whole body locking in mortified horror, hands flying up to your face as if that could undo what you’d just said, as if that could pull the words back into your throat and shove them into the void where they belonged.

“Oh my God—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that, I swear—I swear, it was just—I was talking about your arm, I mean your body—not your—oh God, not your body body, I meant your abilities, like biologically—scientifically—I’m so sorry—”

You were rambling now, barely breathing between the words, voice growing higher and faster with every sentence, and he was still just looking at you, still absolutely silent, like you’d short-circuited him and he was trying not to let it show. His expression hadn’t changed much—but his eyes were different now, darker maybe, or maybe just sharper, like a wire had pulled taut somewhere beneath his usually-calm exterior.

Then—finally—he blinked.

And his mouth twitched.

Not a smirk. Not quite. But close. Very, very close.

“Everything?” he echoed softly, voice rough around the edges like it had dropped an octave without permission.

You wanted to melt through the floor.

“Forget I said anything,” you mumbled, practically squeaked, your hands halfway up your face now, notebook clutched uselessly against your chest like a shield made of paper and shame.

But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease. He just looked at you for another long moment, like he was tucking the question away in some private drawer of his mind, like he was considering it—you—carefully.

And then he said, his voice quiet and unreadable. “Some things stretch more than others.”

He said it with the same offhand ease he might’ve used to mention the weather or the results of an equation, as if the words weren’t heavy with meaning, as if they didn’t land like a struck tuning fork in the center of your chest and hum there, low and electric. And then—just like that—he glanced at the time again, slipped his phone into the inside pocket of his coat, his fingers moving with quiet efficiency, and looked toward the door without even a flicker of hesitation in his expression.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, voice smooth and calm, like it had all been nothing—your question, his answer, the unbearable silence that followed—like he hadn’t just reduced you to a trembling, wide-eyed mess with five words and a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

And then he turned and walked out, his footsteps steady and unhurried, as though the entire moment hadn’t happened, as though he hadn’t noticed the way your breath had caught or your lips had parted slightly or the way your fingers had curled around your notebook like you were holding onto it for dear life. The door eased shut behind him with a soft, final click, and the silence that followed felt far too loud, as if the air itself had been holding its breath and now didn’t know what to do with the tension left behind.

You stood there for a moment, completely still, eyes fixed on the door like he might come back—might say something, might clarify or laugh or admit that yes, that had been what you thought it was, that you weren’t imagining the way his gaze had sharpened, the subtle shift in his voice, the pause before he’d answered like he was trying to decide how honest he wanted to be.

But the door stayed shut. The lab was quiet. And your face was burning.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

The next morning, you thought about quitting.

No—worse—you thought about being removed, escorted out of the lab with quiet, professional shame, the faculty committee shaking their heads at the girl who couldn’t keep her thoughts scientific. You’d spent the entire night twisted in sheets and mortification, staring at the ceiling of your tiny dorm room with cheeks that wouldn’t stop burning and hands that kept curling into fists against your pillow, your mind looping the same sentence over and over like a taunt.

Does everything stretch?

It had sounded so much worse in hindsight. In your head, it was a purely biological question—curiosity, theoretical, relevant. But the moment it left your lips, soft and shy and tilted with unintended suggestion, you’d felt the way it landed. The way his eyes had flickered. The way his voice had dropped just a hair lower. The way he’d looked at you after.

And then he walked out like it was nothing.

Which somehow made it worse.

So when you walked into the lab that morning, notebook clutched to your chest like a shield, heart crawling up the back of your throat with every step, you were fully prepared for disaster—for tension, awkwardness, maybe even polite dismissal. But he was already there, of course he was—leaning over one of the central consoles with his sleeves rolled, hair still rumpled from sleep, lips pursed slightly in thought as he ran through some new readout, a mug half-full of black coffee resting near his elbow.

And when he glanced up at you?

Everything was... fine.

He offered you a brief, familiar nod, the same one he always did, and then gestured to a screen without so much as a hint of discomfort, as if the night before had been a dream, as if you hadn’t asked the most humiliating question of your life and then spiraled into a dimension of shame he probably discovered himself.

You blinked, stunned by the ease of it, by the way he moved through the morning without even a trace of tension, without a single flinch. It was—professional. Cordial. Kind.

And strangely, that grounded you.

The day unfolded slowly, then steadily—small victories, clarified hypotheses, new data sets—and your body slowly began to relax into the rhythm you’d started to love, the silent teamwork of minds that trusted each other. And even though he hadn’t said anything beyond the work, even though the stretch of time passed with nothing but research and updates, you caught yourself looking again—watching the way his hands moved, the way he’d lean into the screen, the way he thought so deeply with his whole body, and the way you were beginning to understand him in ways that had nothing to do with science.

It wasn’t until late afternoon, when the sun outside had dipped low enough to cast long gold shadows across the lab floor, that he finally spoke without referencing an equation.

“Sue was asking about you,” he said casually, eyes still on his screen, voice calm as if he didn’t know he’d just sent your stomach tumbling.

You blinked, startled. “Oh?”

He nodded once, the motion subtle. “Think I’ve been talking too much about how smart you are.”

Your breath caught in your throat and then returned all at once in a rush of heat to your face. You looked away, your lips parting slightly as your blush bloomed across your cheeks, creeping down your neck, the words lingering like sunlight on your skin.

“She wants to meet you,” he continued, finally glancing over at you with that steady, unreadable gaze that always made you feel a little exposed, a little unsteady.

“Really?” you asked, blinking up at him, your voice too soft, too unsure. “I—I mean, I’d be honored.”

He chuckled, quiet and amused, and God, it made your heart stutter.

“Tonight?” he asked, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Your lips parted again. “Tonight?” you echoed, because your brain was clearly still catching up.

He tilted his head, expression flickering with something close to amusement. “Unless you’re busy,” he said smoothly. “Or unless you were planning on camping out here all night again, trying to crack the wavefield inversion curve without sleeping or eating—because that does sound like you.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, the sound escaping like a sigh, soft and a little breathless, and he smiled—genuine and rare, the kind that made your knees feel unsteady and your chest warm.

You shook your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly too shy to meet his eyes. “No,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not busy.”

“Good,” he said, his smile deepening just slightly. “I’ll see you for dinner then.”

And with that, he turned back to his screen, the moment slipping away like mist, but the warmth of it stayed, curling low and steady in your chest.

You were going to dinner. With Reed Richards. And Sue Storm.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

The Baxter Building stood tall and impossible in the heart of the city, its sleek, glinting frame catching the last of the golden evening light like it had been plucked from some distant future and set gently down in Manhattan.

The security in the lobby had let you through without question, as if they’d been expecting you, as if your name already belonged in the same breath as Reed Richards and Sue Storm, and that thought alone made your stomach twist with something between awe and panic as you stepped into the elevator.

It was silent inside—sterile and smooth, the walls a brushed metal that reflected the softest version of your silhouette back at you, almost dreamlike. You stared at your reflection for a moment, adjusting the bottle of wine you held with both hands, the paper bag crinkling slightly beneath your fingertips.

You’d picked it up on the way here after spending a full thirty minutes in the wine shop pretending to know what pairs with intellectual dinner parties hosted by superheroes. You smoothed the front of your dress—a soft, modest thing that you’d chosen carefully, something that felt like you, but maybe a little prettier, a little more delicate than usual, your lips painted just faintly, enough to make you feel like you were trying without looking like you were trying.

You exhaled slowly, barely noticing the way the elevator glided up without a sound, your heartbeat louder than anything around you. Your thoughts raced, of course they did—what if it was too much? What if you shouldn’t have come? What if he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, that subtle curve of his voice when he said see you at dinner, the glint in his eye, the way his attention had lingered for just a moment too long?

The elevator chimed softly.

The doors opened.

And then— There he was.

Reed stood just inside the threshold, one hand braced casually on the edge of the doorway, the other slipping his phone into his back pocket like he’d only just finished checking something, his sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, collarbone peeking slightly where his top button had been left undone, no tie, no lab coat—just a simple, perfectly tailored shirt that made your brain stutter for half a beat.

His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it absentmindedly more than once, and there was a tiny streak of ink or maybe graphite on his knuckle that hadn’t been washed off completely.

It was Reed, but not the version of him you’d grown used to seeing in the lab, not the hyper-focused, brilliant blur of intellect you worked beside every day—this Reed looked like he’d been waiting. For you.

His eyes moved over you slowly—once, all the way down and back up again, not rushed, not obvious, but deliberate enough that you felt it everywhere, like heat pressing into the skin of your chest and the backs of your knees, your fingers tightening instinctively around the bottle you were holding.

He didn’t say anything at first, just quirked the corner of his mouth into something halfway between a smirk and a smile, soft but amused, his gaze still lingering just a little too long.

“You clean up well,” he said finally, voice lower than usual, not teasing exactly—more like he was confessing something he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

Your mouth parted slightly, but your voice caught, and when you finally managed to speak, it came out soft and a little breathless. “I—brought wine.”

He glanced down at the bottle, then back at you, his smile deepening just enough to make your heart skip. “Dangerously overqualified,” he murmured, stepping back to let you in. “Smart and thoughtful. Sue’s going to love you.”

You stepped past him into the apartment, the warmth of the space wrapping around you instantly, the scent of dinner and city lights and him curling at the edge of your senses, and even as you tried to focus on your breathing, on your posture, on not tripping in your kitten heels, you could still feel the echo of his eyes on your skin, like he hadn’t really stopped looking.

The apartment unfolded around you like a page in some impossibly curated design magazine, only softer, warmer, more lived-in than anything artificial—clean, modern lines met rich textures, brushed steel softened by warm walnut floors and deep navy accents that glowed golden under the cascade of low, amber-hued lighting.

One entire wall was glass, and beyond it, the Manhattan skyline burned softly against the horizon, city lights just starting to glitter like distant stars, and even the air inside smelled expensive and comforting—like slow-cooked herbs and something faintly sweet.

You were still catching your breath, still clutching the wine like a lifeline, when you heard a voice float in from down the hall—clear, warm, and unmistakably female.

“There she is.”

Sue Storm walked into view like she had been sculpted from light itself—tall and impossibly graceful, wrapped in soft neutral fabrics that draped just right, her golden hair falling in loose waves that framed her face perfectly, her eyes a crystalline blue that held a kind of sharpness you immediately respected.

She was breathtaking, in that way women are when they know who they are, and the moment she looked at you, her whole expression softened with something kind and curious and real.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said with a small smile, her voice smooth like honey stirred into tea, her gaze never once breaking from yours.

“Hi,” you breathed, the word escaping before you could shape it into anything more eloquent. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

She waved you off with a flick of her manicured fingers, as if the formality embarrassed her. “Please,” she said with a light laugh, stepping closer. “The way my husband talks about you? I’m the one who’s honored.”

And you blushed so hard you felt it in your ears, your whole body warming beneath the soft light, fingers tightening just slightly around the neck of the bottle as you dipped your head in modest disbelief, not quite sure if you should laugh or hide.

Reed, who had stepped away to adjust the music or maybe just give you a moment, said nothing, but you felt the weight of his glance again—the quiet satisfaction in the corners of his mouth like this was exactly what he wanted: you here, now, nervous but luminous, admired and welcomed.

“Come in,” Sue insisted gently, her hand brushing your arm in a way that grounded you immediately. “Dinner’s almost ready. I made way too much food—he said you don’t eat much, but I never trust him when he says that. He’s never once finished a plate himself.”

You smiled, heart still beating a little too fast, and followed her deeper into the space, the sound of your shoes soft against the hardwood, the city glowing quietly beyond the windows as if watching you take your first steps into something bigger than an internship—something warmer, more dangerous, and far more personal.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

Dinner was lovely—elegant but warm, the kind of meal that felt intimate without trying, served at a long polished table that glowed honey-gold under the overhead lights, the city sparkling just beyond the glass like a living mural.

You sat across from them, Reed to your left, Sue across from you, and despite the tight coil of nerves you’d carried into the evening, it was… comfortable.

Sue had a way of making you feel like you belonged, like you weren’t just a guest in the home of two of the most brilliant minds on the planet, but someone worth sitting at their table, someone they genuinely wanted to know.

You found yourself watching them more than you meant to—Sue leaning toward him with quiet laughter, Reed murmuring something back without looking up from his wine glass, the two of them moving in the kind of rhythm that only came from years of intimacy and quiet understanding. And still, as you watched them, something bloomed low and warm in your stomach—not jealousy, exactly, but a kind of quiet ache, a fascination that hummed beneath your skin, a longing that had less to do with their relationship and more to do with him.

You were still chasing the thread of that thought when Sue turned to you again, eyes bright with interest.

“So,” she said, “how did you get interested in all of this?”

You blinked, startled out of your reverie, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with a shy smile. “Well,” you began softly, glancing down at your plate before meeting her gaze again, “ever since I was a kid, I just… I always wanted to understand how the world worked. The math, the movement, the rules. I remember watching the stars and thinking—that’s what I want to learn. That’s what I want to be part of.”

Sue offered you a warm smile, nodding in that gentle, encouraging way that made you feel like your words mattered, like they weren’t small or naïve or too eager. “Well,” she said, “it’s always nice seeing young people interested in this kind of work—especially a fellow…” she paused, grinning as she reached for her glass, “…girl genius.”

You laughed softly, cheeks warm, about to reply with something awkward and grateful and probably too modest—when it happened.

You felt it.

Unmistakable.

A hand. Large, warm, and undeniably real, sliding gently across your thigh under the table.

Your heart stopped. Your breath caught somewhere high in your chest, your eyes flickering toward Reed so quickly you barely caught Sue sipping her wine across from you. But he didn’t look at you—not exactly. His gaze remained calm and forward, his profile composed and entirely unreadable as he took a slow sip of his wine and then glanced up at Sue, his hand still resting firmly on your leg.

“She’s brilliant,” he said casually, his voice smooth and even, like he was commenting on the weather, like he wasn’t currently touching you from across the table while sitting next to his wife.

You sat frozen, pulse thundering in your ears, body rigid but electrified, your fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem of your glass as you tried to focus, to breathe, to not move.

“She corrected me the other day about a flux equation I wrote in ’04,” he continued, eyes finally drifting to meet yours—and holding there, steady and direct, a silent dare written behind his calm expression. “She was right, too.”

Sue laughed, clearly delighted. “Good. God knows someone needs to keep you in check.”

You could barely hear her. Could barely focus on anything except the heat of Reed’s hand, the way it pressed gently into the top of your thigh, just enough to let you know it was real, just enough to make your stomach twist with something hot and shivery and shamefully thrilling.

And then—his hand moved.

Not in that subtle, polite way you might’ve been able to ignore or convince yourself had been some kind of misunderstanding, not a graze or a twitch or something incidental—but deliberate, slow, intentional, his palm sliding higher, slipping beneath the hem of your dress in a single fluid motion that felt so impossibly confident it made your entire body lock up at once.

The heat of his skin against your thigh stole the breath from your lungs, and when his fingers skimmed the delicate edge of your underwear, just barely brushing the fabric, you felt your heart climb straight into your throat and stay there.

You almost choked on your wine.

The glass halted halfway to your lips, your hands trembling just enough for the crystal to click against your teeth, and you let out a strange, stifled sound—half gasp, half cough—your eyes wide, your posture going ramrod straight as you struggled to swallow the panic and arousal crawling up your spine in tandem.

“You alright?” Sue asked gently, glancing up from her plate with concern etched between her brows, the picture of warmth and kindness and everything undeserving of what was happening beneath her dinner table.

“Yes,” you stammered, too quickly, the syllable snapping out of your mouth like it had been fired from a slingshot, your cheeks flushed a deep, telltale red as you nodded a little too hard. “I’m fine. Just—went down the wrong way.”

Across from you, Reed glanced up from his glass at the sound of your voice, his expression calm—no, worse than calm—amused, like he was enjoying watching you fall apart in real time, like he was studying the way you squirmed and flushed and fidgeted with quiet, academic satisfaction. His fingers moved—barely a shift, just enough to press the pad of his thumb along the inside of your thigh, skimming the thin lace of your panties with a featherlight drag that made your vision blur for a moment, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek to stop a sound from escaping.

Sue kept talking, mercifully, unaware of the silent war happening beneath the table, and you tried to nod along, tried to pretend you were still following the story she was telling about something at the foundation gala last week, but Reed’s hand was still moving—so slowly, so wickedly gentle, fingers drifting along the edge of the fabric like he was memorizing it, teasing it, learning every soft line of you with nothing more than a ghost of touch and that insufferable, unreadable look in his eyes.

You were blushing so fiercely now you were sure it had reached your chest, heat blooming down your neck like a fever, your knees squeezing together reflexively beneath the table as your breathing turned shallow, chest rising and falling in a way that did not feel casual anymore.

“Are you hot, honey?” Sue asked suddenly, concern returning to her voice, her eyes flickering to your cheeks. “A house full of so-called geniuses and we still haven’t figured out how to fix the aircon properly. I’ll be back—I’ll check the thermostat.”

And before you could answer—before you could find any response at all—she stood, placing her napkin neatly beside her plate and disappearing down the hall with a rustle of fabric and the click of her heels.

The door hadn’t even shut all the way before Reed finally spoke, low and calm and just for you, his fingers still resting against the soft, soaked curve of you beneath your panties.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, voice a dark, honey-dipped whisper that sent shivers straight through your bones. “Don’t stop now.”

“Reed—” you stammered, your voice cracking under the strain of your own name trembling on your lips, barely more than a whisper, a breath caught halfway between panic and disbelief, your thighs squeezing together out of instinct, out of desperation, out of need you didn’t yet know how to name. “What are you—”

He didn’t lean in.

He didn’t move closer.

He didn’t even blink.

He simply sat there, on the opposite side of the table, one elbow resting near his wine glass, the other arm subtly stretched beneath the surface like a quiet secret unraveling in the dark, and his voice, when it came, was soft and low and steady.

“Tell me to stop.”

And as he said it—calm, impossible, infuriatingly composed—you felt it: the cool air against your skin, your panties slipping down your thighs with a slow, torturous grace, peeled away by a hand that wasn’t even near you, stretched from across the table, precise and gentle and unspeakably brazen. The fabric caught just slightly at your knees before his fingers nudged it past, and you sat there frozen, wide-eyed, red-faced, with your dress pooled neatly over your lap and nothing beneath it now but heat and humiliation and the thundering pulse between your legs.

“Reed—” you breathed again, barely able to shape the word, and his gaze met yours in that maddening, quiet way—no urgency, no shame, only that still, measured calm that made your insides tremble, as if he was watching a reaction unfold under glass.

And then—

Sue's heels clicked softly on the polished floor as she entered the room again, moving with that effortless, elegant grace as she crossed behind you and returned to her seat.

“That should fix it,” she said lightly as she sat, her smile warm and unbothered, her tone casual as if nothing had changed in the few moments she’d been gone.

You turned toward her, your face flaming, your smile shaky and paper-thin as you tried to find your voice again, tried to stitch together whatever pieces of yourself hadn’t yet dissolved under Reed’s hand, which now rested high on your bare thigh like it belonged there.

“Thank you,” you managed softly, the words nearly catching on the breath that refused to sit still in your chest, and somehow, impossibly, you held her gaze.

And across from you, Reed Richards—calm, brilliant, monstrous in his control—simply took another sip of wine.

You tried to focus, truly you did—on Sue, on her words, on the soft clinking of silverware and the gentle thrum of jazz somewhere in the background—but all of it became nothing more than a blur of light and noise the moment his fingers moved again, slow and purposeful, the stretch of his arm impossibly seamless beneath the table, as if he could command every tendon, every muscle, with surgical precision.

He didn’t even shift in his seat, didn’t look down, didn’t so much as twitch, and yet—you felt him, truly felt him now, his fingers slipping between your thighs with exquisite control, brushing over your bare, trembling core with a deliberate slowness that made you forget how to hold your breath steady.

And then—he pushed.

Just one finger at first, and it was too much, because it was him, because it was stretched impossibly long and thick, curling up with inhuman ease, reaching deeper than anyone had ever dared, pressing into you like he already knew exactly where to go, what you needed, like he’d studied your anatomy and had all the answers memorized.

Your thighs tightened automatically, knees trembling under the weight of holding in a sound you very nearly let out, and your hands clenched into your lap, the wine glass beside you forgotten, your whole body alight with the unbearable tension of being touched like this—open, pulsing, absolutely undone—and doing nothing about it.

And then—

“Why don’t you explain to Sue what we went over the other day,” Reed said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just buried his finger inside you under the dinner table, as if he wasn’t slowly crooking it up to find that sweet, aching spot that made your stomach twist and your eyes nearly flutter shut.

You froze.

“What?” you whispered, blinking at him.

He offered a slight tilt of his head, his eyes resting on yours with a look of calm expectation—amusement, even—and then shifted his gaze to Sue, who was looking at you with the kindest, most open smile, entirely oblivious.

“The resonance collapse formula,” Reed said helpfully, voice steady. “She corrected one of my assumptions about it earlier this week. She’s sharper than she lets on.”

He curled his finger again.

And it took everything in you not to cry out.

You blinked rapidly, your lips parting around a breath that wasn’t quite a word, trying to remember the theory, the math, the basic principles of language, but all you could feel was the stretch inside you, the thick, gentle press of him moving in slow, unrelenting circles, coaxing you open without haste, without apology, without shame.

“I—” you started, your voice embarrassingly thin, “we—uh, we talked about—about the resonance curve failing at the threshold of—”

He added a second finger.

Your breath caught so hard you coughed, the burn of it tight in your chest, and you reached for your water like it might ground you, like the coolness of the glass could balance out the unbearable heat pulsing between your legs.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Sue asked again, concerned.

You forced a smile, shaking your head quickly, eyes wet with the effort to look normal, to act normal, when Reed’s fingers were pushing deeper now, stretching you in a way that was obscene, careful, perfect, and somehow managing to keep the rhythm slow and steady, barely moving, just enough to make you drip helplessly onto his knuckles under the table while you tried to describe a physics principle with your body unraveling second by second.

“I’m okay,” you managed to whisper, voice too soft, too high.

Reed’s thumb brushed upward. You jolted. He smiled—just slightly.

“You were saying?” he asked gently.

You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or crawl under the table and never come out.

Instead, you looked up, cheeks flushed, throat tight, and murmured, “We adjusted the decay rate curve based on the harmonic threshold failing beyond point-six-three, and—and recalibrated the control conditions to reflect a more dynamic waveform—”

His fingers pressed up, deep, and you gasped—but you made it sound like awe, like wonder.

Sue beamed at you. “That’s amazing.”

You blinked, barely nodding, and Reed—still untouched himself, still seated like a man entirely at ease—just gave you the faintest smile across the table, like he was proud of you. Like you had passed some unspeakable test.

You weren’t sure when it changed—when Reed’s fingers, once so slow and exploratory, shifted their rhythm, no longer teasing but deliberate, their movement suddenly quickening beneath the tablecloth, each stroke firmer, deeper, more precise, curling up into that one devastating place inside you with the kind of methodical expertise that only a man like him could possess.

His thumb pressed again and again against your swollen clit in quiet, unrelenting circles, and it was obscene, unbelievably obscene, because he was still sitting across from you, back straight, shoulders calm, expression thoughtful and polite as Sue continued her story—talking about an ambassador, or a charity gala, or maybe a speech she gave—and you couldn’t hear a single word of it.

Because you were about to come.

Right there. At their dinner table.

Your thighs were trembling beneath the fabric of your dress, your body pulled taut like a string about to snap, nerves alight and burning in every limb, and you could feel it rising, fast and hot, building in your belly like a storm, spreading up through your spine with every practiced motion of his hand—stretched from across the table, long and dexterous and hidden beneath the soft, quiet clink of silverware.

You were soaked, dripping, pulsing around his fingers, and he knew. Of course he knew. He could feel every flutter, every desperate little squeeze your body gave him, and when he looked at you—really looked at you—his eyes burned with a satisfaction so soft it felt like praise.

You tried to hold it back. God, you tried. Your nails dug into the fabric of your skirt, your breathing shallow and uneven, your lashes fluttering as you ducked your head and bit into the back of your hand, trying to hide the sound, trying to bury the moan that threatened to rip itself from your throat. You were right on the edge, hovering there, helpless, when—

DING!

The sound of the oven’s timer rang out sharply through the kitchen, perfectly, cruelly timed—at the exact second you broke apart, your body shuddering around his fingers as the climax hit you so hard and fast you saw stars behind your eyes. You muffled the moan with your hand, trembling violently in your chair as you faked a cough so sharp it made Sue look up, concerned, just as she was standing to go check the dessert.

“Poor thing,” she said sweetly, already halfway out of the room, completely unaware of what had just happened right beneath her nose. “Let me go grab the cobbler—Reed, didn’t I tell you to turn on the vent fan for the oven? It smells like caramelized sugar in here.”

You barely managed to nod, your breath still stuttering in your chest, the taste of your own bitten-down moan lingering in your mouth like smoke, your vision wet and dizzy as you tried to collect yourself—but it was impossible, completely impossible, because Reed was still watching you, still calm, still composed, still seated like nothing had happened at all, as though his fingers hadn’t just coaxed your orgasm from you with the kind of precision that only a man with endless patience and supernatural reach could possess.

And then—he moved.

His hand, the one he had just pulled back from beneath your dress, rose slowly from beneath the table, casual, unhurried, and with the sort of smooth detachment that made your blood run hot all over again. You watched—helpless, horrified, entranced—as he brought his fingers to his mouth, his expression unreadable but his gaze never leaving yours, and then—

He licked them.

Just the tips. Just a quiet, deliberate motion—his tongue flicking out to drag across the pads of his fingers with unbearable slowness, like a man tasting something rare and sacred, like someone who savored knowledge, savored reactions, savored you—and your breath caught so hard it made your throat ache, your hands clenched in your lap, body still trembling beneath the table.

And that was the exact moment Sue walked back in.

The tray in her hands held a golden, bubbling dish still steaming at the edges, a pitcher of vanilla sauce tucked beside it, and she moved with the same easy grace she always had, placing the dish gently in the center of the table as the scent of caramelized fruit and butter filled the space.

“Was the sauce that good?” she asked with a light laugh, glancing over just in time to see her husband finishing his little motion, his fingers slipping from his mouth like it was nothing at all. “You just licked your fingers like you hadn’t eaten in days.”

Your entire body tensed.

Reed—calm, collected, horrifyingly composed—didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch. He simply tilted his head toward her, then turned back to you, his eyes locking with yours across the table, his gaze heavy with meaning, with memory, with the weight of what he’d just done to you, and said, without a flicker of shame—

“Delicious.”

Your stomach dropped. Your cheeks flamed. You looked away instantly, your eyes darting toward your lap, toward your empty plate, toward anywhere that wasn’t him, your skin hot and crawling with mortification, your thighs pressed tight together under the table, still slick and tender and sensitive as hell, and now—now you had to eat dessert.

With him. With her. With the taste of your orgasm still on his mouth.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

You said your goodbyes to Sue as sweetly and shakily as you could manage, your voice still thin and breathless from the quiet ruin Reed had left you in, the remnants of your orgasm still echoing in your body like a pulse you couldn’t calm, and still—still—you smiled, you nodded, you played the part of the polite, well-mannered girl who had not just come in silence at the dinner table. Sue hugged you lightly at the door, warm and soft and lovely, thanking you for coming and saying how nice it was to meet you, her words kind and sincere, her smile so genuine it made you ache.

“We’ll have to do this again,” she said gently, her voice carrying no suspicion, no awareness, only the comfort of a woman who’d welcomed you into her home and truly meant it.

“It was an honor,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, eyes lowered, fingers nervously wrapped around the strap of your bag, heart pounding loud and unrelenting in your chest.

Reed appeared behind you then, as if summoned by the rhythm of your exit, and without saying anything, without asking, he moved to walk you out, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back—a simple gesture, one that should’ve been harmless, innocent, but that felt anything but, especially after what those fingers had just done to you beneath a tablecloth in the dim golden light of a family dining room.

The door clicked shut behind the two of you, and the hallway beyond was quiet, cool, and still, a soft hum from the city beyond the glass, but the silence between you buzzed with something thicker, darker, more intimate than you could bear. He said nothing at first, only walked beside you with slow, unhurried steps, like the moment hadn’t already been branded into both your bodies, like he hadn’t watched you fall apart with your hand over your mouth while his wife got dessert.

At the door to the elevator, he stopped, and you turned toward him, still too flustered to meet his eyes, still trying to hold yourself together with trembling fingers and shallow breaths, your lashes lowered as you whispered, “Thank you for… dinner.”

His response came after a pause, his voice smooth, impossibly steady. “You were perfect.”

You froze—eyes flicking up, breath catching—and found him watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was something beneath it now, something warmer and darker and dangerous, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth that made your knees weaken all over again.

“Good girl,” he added softly, low enough that only you could hear it, and the elevator doors opened behind you with a soft ding, cool air spilling out into the hallway like a breeze that didn’t belong.

You stepped inside on trembling legs, unsure if you remembered how to breathe, and as the doors began to close, you looked back—just once—and there he was, standing exactly as he had before, his hands in his pockets, head tilted ever so slightly, still watching you, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t wait to take apart again.

And when the doors shut fully, sealing you into silence, your hand finally flew to your chest.

Because you had just survived dinner. Barely. And you weren’t sure you’d ever be the same again.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

let me know your thoughtssss

[thydungeongal]

A lot of people's issues with modern D&D would be immediately fixed if they accepted the game for what its rules actually say the game is trying to achieve (even though the rules are usually not vocal about it and you kind of have to divine that purpose).

Like, a lot of GMs seem to stress over making their games challenging enough but not too lethal because if the dreaded TPK happens or a character dies before fulfilling their personal arc then the narrative momentum of the game dies. But like:

Death is pretty much the only consequence of note in modern D&D. It might not be a fun consequence but without it you lose all tension

The fact that death is always on the table should be an indication that the game itself does not care about narrative continuity nor your characters' personal arcs.

Despite all the modern guardrails and mechanics like bonds and ideals that are supposed to add character death, D&D is ultimately a "some assholes go to die in a ditch" type of game. And that's okay. But playing it as a "I must preserve narrative continuity and make sure characters stay alive or else my plans are ruined" game means an uphill battle against the game itself.

[villemus-xi]

Whoa you were one of the interpreters for the Crit Role Sydney show? :O

How was the experience if you don't mind me asking? Interpreting an unscripted nine person cast with crosstalk and fantasy terms seems like it would be a challenge

Hey there! Yes, that was me 🤩

As a D&D fan, it was one of the most fun experiences of my career.

Unfortunately I was a bit late to the Critical Role train, and I never joined later on as I found it as a piece of media very large and intimidating, but I've been a D&D player since high school, and a Dimension 20 and Baldur's Gate fan. Please accept my back tattoo as proof of my credentials.

Working to interpret the show was me and two other interpreters who put in a lot of work before and during the show to make sure that our audience of 3 Deaf Critters were able to access the show all night. As the D&D super fan, I had to prepare some common vocab for the different skill checks and classes that exist in the game. Especially for the character classes, they don't exist in Auslan but I took inspiration from other Deaf D&D fans who use ASL and BSL. I recorded a video of that and sent it to my fellow interpreters and to the one Deaf Critter I was aware was coming.

During the show, we chose to have only one interpreter "on" at a time. After watching the London show recording, I noticed that barring a few moments of cross talk, the cast don't really talk over each other much, and give plenty of pauses between lines of dialogue, especially when Matt is narrating during scene setting. Having one interpreter meant that we had to "roleshift" by moving our body to different angles to show which character was speaking.

We worked in 15 minute blocks, so we got to have 30 minute breaks when not actively interpreting, but I was watching my co-interpreters the entire time to help prompt with different terms or signs they may need help with, as they weren't as au fait with all the fantasy terms as me.

The Melbourne show is also being interpreted by a team of 3 interpreters who are all D&D fans, and I've made sure to give them as much of a rundown as I can so they can do the best job they can during that show too. I hope it's a good one and I can't wait to hear how it goes! 🤩

[kdh-tally]

i have such bad brainworms over zoey and mystery and i’m living in rarepair HELL because there’s barely any content about them ( ; ω ; )

anyways can you write any headcanons you have about them specifically? i saw this tweet earlier this morning that said that if the saja boys came back to life (somehow), that mystery would shyly ask the other boys if zoey meant it when she said he was her type and the BRAINWORMS ARE WORMING ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : )

Prompt : Zoeystery Headcannons <3

Authors Note :  I don’t think Mystery is shy, just quiet. Bro was barking at a random fan… he must be a bit crazy. I do adore this ship however and have so many ideas for them but I have so many ideas for everyone else too 😭 Hope you enjoyed :D

Context 

I do think that once the Saja Boys reunite with Jinu they have like a 24 hour long conversation about how life will work for them in the human world (since they can’t go back)

Confessions will be made

Romance and Abby admitting that maybe their flirting with Mira isn’t just flirting and they actually kinda like her.

Jinu confessing that he is very much in love with Rumi

The boys all look at him with straight faces.

“We’ve known”

Baby is just there, drinking some hot sauce drink made specifically for him after everyone saw the hot sauce challenge. He isn’t interested in anyone.

Everyone turns to mystery, the only guy that hasn’t spoken yet.

First he tries to play it off “I’m not into any of them like that…”

The boys continuously hound him. He can no longer maintain his mysterious image any longer. 

“Okay fine,” he runs a hand through his hair. 

I feel like he’d keep his hair up in a ponytail or bun or something when around the boys. 

This headcannon is kinda specific but because he was the only demon with like “tusks”, I feel like after becoming human he would still feel uncomfortable with his face hence the hairstyle.

Leading to his confusion about Zoey cause he might feel as though she doesn’t deserve someone like him.

“I’m not saying I like her or anything but… do you guys think Zoey meant what she said?”

No one’s sure what he’s talking about because they weren’t there. Except Baby. 

This guy is laid back with a grin as he 100% knows what is bothering Mystery.

“About you being her type?~” he teases

Uproar

Mystery is trying to sink into the couch to avoid all the teasing thats being thrown his way but he notices there’s an unanimous agreement that Zoey must have been honest.

Zoey isn’t any better off.

Even though the girls have more or less accepted the Saja boys into the human world, they’ll still probably be a bit on guard at all times.

“Zoey he’s the enemyyyyy” Mira would groan, interrupting one of the black-haired girls' many rambles about the Saja Boy.

“But Rumi is half-demon and she isn’t the enemy” she’d argue in defiance.

“This isn’t about being a demon anymore,” Zoey would have Mira pulling her hair out, “He’s the competition!”

“But Rumi gets to be with Jinu and no one says anything!!!” 

Rumi is in immediate denial but no one is listening

All 3 girls know that Zoey will continue to pursue this crush anyways

General 

Now, Mystery is probably the most quiet Saja Boy. He doesn't talk much, but every time he does, Zoey repeats whatever it is he said in her head for hours.

Zoey would totally fluster him (and herself) by mistake

Remember the scene where they had a joint fan meet and she was immediately all giggly when he sat by her?

This would set off something in his heart yk. 

Zoey also needs to like physically remind herself to stop fangirling around him 💀

Mystery’s the “cool one” of the group but if there was ever a moment where Zoey let her hair out of her cute space buns?

He’s a goner

Even watching her rap messes with his heart strings

How can someone so cute be so attractive?

There are fan edits of them glancing at each other at the same time that go viral constantly.

A specific one is this fanart I saw on tiktok of them doing the “Bark Like You Want It” trend (will link it and add a photo in the end)

Someone also made a compilation of them looking away awkwardly after accidentally touching each other.

Zoey once wore earrings that were clearly his during a livestream.

No explanation was given.

The fandom exploded.

Mystery avoided the internet like a plague. He didn’t even know how she got them.

The line he had in “I’m Your Idol”?

“I will love you more when it all burns down”

Notice how Zoey goes from looking like a hypnotized zombie into a smiling hypnotized zombie???

He would write lyrics about her but disguise them as some metaphorical demon lore. 

Zoey reads between the lines way too easily (she writes lyrics for a living) and now whenever he performs it, she won’t make proper eye contact.

She eventually admits this to him and he’s just like “Yea I figured”. Zoey clocks that this was one of his chosen methods of flirting.

They talk best when no one's watching. 

Mystery doesn’t feel like anyone will be there to tease him and Zoey won’t feel any guilt for talking so much

I JUST REALIZED THEY’RE LITERALLY THE YAPPER X LISTENER DUO!

"Do you ever miss being a demon? Not having a soul?"

“Not having a soul meant I wasn’t able to feel all the joy you bring me" my guy is a flustered mess.

Zoey would leave sticky notes on the boys' dorm fridge. 

All of them are jokes or warnings. The warnings are specifically for Baby though. 

"don’t eat my snacks unless you want your hand broken, Baby :D"

The ones she leaves for mystery are always sweet though.

"You looked nice on stage today ;P"

"Wear your hair up more! ><"

He keeps them folded in his wallet.

Zoeystery and Baby

Speaking of Baby

Zoey and Baby are most definitely a messy duo that both fans love to see together.

With Baby being their number one (in secret) supporter, Mystery would almost always find himself tagging along on their adventures.

Making pancakes at 3 in the morning? Mystery is helping them with the batter.

Having a rap battle? Mystery is tallying up the points.

Finding a way to prank Jinu? Mystery is making sure they escape without getting caught

He really only follows Baby cause he knows it means he’ll be spending time with Zoey.

Overall they're just two cuties.

[zwei-rhunen]

two adventures

d1. >in hullbreaker isle as monk

>me staring at the mobs/my hotbar bc it lit up and i’m now trying to line up the mobs for a sick Howling Fist move

> look up aaaand the tank is dead

me: aaaa?? aoeaoeaoe! before th-

>aaaand the other dps is dead

>”oh shit maybe i can still salvage this and run in circles until the tank -” and dead

> me softly @ the screen watching the poor surviving newbie healer get swarmed: “:O run, RUNN-” and dead. LMFAO

2. > in roulette as AST, not a healer main but I’m trying my best /crying cat face with thumbs-up/

>honestly i feel fairly confident!

> ya know.

>as long as i dont get something like-

> mfw get Aurum Vale

>ah fuckkkkk.jpg

we wipe twice (once at the trash mobs, once at the first boss bc morbol bullshit) before i give up on trying to dps in the beginning lmfao

i was able to get into the rhythm of dealing out cards, over-healing everyone and applying Gravity onto crowds after we got past that first boss tho so i think i came out pretty good despite the rough beginning T-T

[alyakthedorklord]

Batman the Playboy

Justice League, not quite early days but before proper identity reveals, though everyone knows Batman knows theirs, bc he has Opinions™ and Constructive Criticisms™ on their secret-keeping.

The issue is brought up on random occasions. The most notable incident- the Justice League, including Batman, being Drunk for Bonding, (or hit with some kind of drug while out saving the world) and Batman, in a fit of paranoid good intentions because he CARES about these idiots, damnit, why must they be so careless, starts insulting them.

Batman, leaning heavily on the table: “GL, you’re a mess, I don’t even know where to start with you. And Arrow! Your goatee is so distinctive, it’s a wonder no one has called you out on it-“

Green Arrow, also drunk: “Alright, there’s no need to insult my awesome facial hair-”

Batman, in despair: “It’s so ugly.”

Green Arrow: (offended noises)

Green Lantern: “Okay, the only reason you know our secret identities is because you’re a rude nosy bastard who needs to know everything about us like a creepy stalker who needs an ego boost! We’re not stupid, Spooky, we’re just polite. We could figure you out easily if we wanted to. Superman can see right through your mask!”

Usually, Batman would have a good response to that. Something smart and reasonable like “villains won’t care for your privacy, I’m testing you,” or something cutting like “I don’t care enough about you to go digging, I set your secret identity as a training exercise for Robin.”

However, Batman is Drunk, because for some reason imbibing drugs that dampen higher brain function is socially acceptable and often, for some reason, expected, because it’s “team bonding” and “come on just loosen up a bit.” (Also for him, drunk=Brucie)

So what Batman ends up saying is: “I could kiss you full on the lips in my secret identity and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

Superman, plucking the glass from Batman’s hand: “Aaaand that is enough alcohol for you!”

Batman nods. Thank God. He wants to go home and sleep. But first: “Superman, yours is so stupid it’s almost impressive-”

———

Of course, Green Lantern has smelled a challenge. And Green Lantern must annoy Batman. It’s his true superpower. So, the next time they meet (sober) he brings up the issue again.

GL: “So about what you said at the party… the part where you could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing. You still confident in that without liquid courage, Spooky? Bet you your real name you can’t do it.”

Batman, regretting the fact that alcohol has ever passed his lips: “I could do it, but I will not.”

Flash, curious: “Why’s that?”

Batman: “Informed Consent. I will not risk making any of you feel violated, or manipulated, for the sake of a stupid bet and my ego.”

GA, still offended by the goatee comment, trying to back Batman into a corner: “So if we give consent, we’re fair game? Try me, Batman. Even you can’t pull this off. Anyone else game?”

Some of the Justice League laughs, raising their hands.

Flash: “Come get me, hot stuff! I’ll call you out!”

Wonder Woman: “It could be amusing.”

Martian Manhunter: “I would be far too difficult a target.”

Green Arrow: “Not just you. C’mon, Spooky, flirting well enough to get a kiss from me? I’m a classy lady.”

Black Canary: “D-class, maybe.”

Superman, wants a kiss in on the fun: 🙋🏻‍♂️

“So that’s it then!” Green Lantern says smugly. “Batman, if you can kiss… how many people raised their hands? Ah yes- HALF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE, without anyone realizing it’s you, then you win.”

Batman scoffs and walks out, leaving the Justice League in stitches at their joke. Because- Batman? Being good enough at flirting to land a kiss on half the league, without it being forced or awkward, without them recognizing his body language, his voice, his build? How ridiculous!

The Batman is Autistic. The Batman does not understand jokes, especially not ones that are half truths. The Batman has consent, and something to prove.

And Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, and sexy DILF, has targets.

(Please tell me how you think he gets each League member.)

Edit: there have been a bunch of awesome additions in the notes! My own take here.

[knightyoomyoui]

You Don't Want None [+18]

ft. TWICE's Chaeyoung (x M Reader)

TYPE: Smut

WORD COUNT: 3964

TAGS: rough sex, submissive girlfriend, punishment, degradation

NOTE: This is heavily inspired from this picture of Chaeyoung above that gave me an idea to write this fic. She looks so freaking hot here, I admit.

DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

DESCRIPTION: Bratty Chaeyoung disturbing her boyfriend during his game time despite his pleads of giving him space. When she cost him and his team the round, YN disciplines her with a rough lesson in favor to what she desires.

===OOO===

You were alone in your room playing Mobile Legends in your phone to spend your leisure time before you return back on studying for your final exam. The bedroom door opened, your girlfriend Chaeyoung peeked through the gap to check how you’re doing. Giving a quick glance at her, you saw her smile in which boosted your confidence more on playing.

“Hey, love.” You said while dapping your fingertips at the screen.

“What role you are?”

“Tank. I find Akai my new main these days.” You answered while still fixated on your phone.

“You? Doing the roaming? Never thought I would see or hear you with that.” Chaeyoung chuckled.

“You underestimate me too much. I’m all-rounder, you know?” You snickered and hissed.

She approaches you to watch your gameplay. It made sense while you’re so concentrated at the round since you’re always being the one who should necessary attend the clash spots, to support and defend the other heroes for being the toughest. “So what if I do? And please, not me. I’ve seen you struggle a lot on being in charge of mid lanes.”

“I still play the role though.”

“Yeah, but you suck at using mage heroes.” She saw you groan in annoyance as she roasts you. It made her laugh while you still try to focus on the game. A chat from your friend whom you play along with popped up, commanding you about something to do that might be an efficient part of the plan your team would receive.

“I remember the last time we played you were the first one who got killed in under a minute. I don’t think that’s what being all-rounder is about.” Chaeyoung mocked you. She was examining your face and the background they’re playing at the same time.

“Hey, don’t get mistaken that you’re better than me or something if that’s what you’re doing. You still haven’t accepted my one on one challenge yet.”

“Uh huh, I just don’t because I feel pity for you.” She teased you while she sneakily inserted some clingy girlfriend act on you by snaking her hands around your waist while she lays her head on your shoulder.

“Excuses. Chae, just said you’re afraid.”

“Me? Scared fighting you? If I remember correctly, I am the one who has a higher rank than you.” She looked at you unbelievably. You squinched your nose and grunted at another harsh truth she just spat. “That’s why, I prefer you should just keep on playing. Train yourself further, maybe if you win… I’ll accept the challenge. Deal?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.” You finally requited the gaze on her. As you return back on your phone, Chaeyoung has thought of an evil idea. Something that she’ll regret doing so but she just wants to see how cute you’ll react for this.

She lifted both of her legs and planted her butt above your lap as she sat. “Uhh, what are you doing?”, you asked mindlessly. “Nothing, just go along with them.” Chaeyoung feigned innocence. “I just wanna how you’re so eager to dominate me.”

You continued playing even though you along with your teammates are in a dangerous situation right now. With every deaths and mistake, you couldn’t help anymore but to be irritated and sigh stressfully. Chaeyoung looked at the screen, she devilishly smirked at the idea pushing her again to do it.

“You guys look like you’re about to lose now.” Chaeyoung said as she looks at the status of your side compared to the enemies. “Is that what you mean I should be threatened when you play like that?”

“Please, Chae stop distracting me for a moment.”, you said in a calm tone. She liked your gentle request, but bold ideas running in her mind that influences her to disobey you for now. She left your lap, fooling you for giving you some space but instead, she just sat rather behind you and cuddled at you like a koala. Her hands raised up to your pecs and began caressing it.

“Chae…” You warned her, your posture shuffling around her to remove her body. As the last turret in the mid lane was destroyed, you know this is gonna be a huge trouble as the base has a passageway now for the enemies to invade and end the match.

“I’m so boreddd~” Chaeyoung whined. She pressed her face at your nape.

“Can’t you do something else first? I just have to finish this, promise.”

“No, and stop doing that.” Chaeyoung muttered. “I hate being ignored.”

“But I’m in the middle of-”

“What? You guys are losing anyway?” She complained. Her instinct drove her to start kissing the exposed skin of your neck. Her hands returned around her, with the soles of her feet obviously becoming dangerously close at your crotch.

“ We’re still aiming for a comeback here.” Your lips straightened, body went stiff and hot along with your temper rising from your clingy girlfriend’s unnecessary actions.

She bit your neck and sucked it. You gritted your teeth and released a sigh. “Stop trying, YN. You’ll never beat me and I know you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that, okay! I have no interest to be in a competition with you right now. I already told you that I- oh shit.” He saw the message at the top saying that the enemies have slain the lord. Gather and retreat commands went popping aggressively on the screen.

“You said you’re a great player, right? So don’t mind me here. Even if you dare to leave me alone, I won’t. I want you right now.” You felt your cock stirred when Chaeyoung gripped and squeezed it. “And it seems you do as well.”

“It’s my hormones reacting, okay. Ofcourse, how can I fucking act normal if you’re here flirting at me?”

“Oh, just shut up.” Chaeyoung ain’t buying your lies to push your buttons. Your current frustrated mood is entertaining her with a little bit of pity for your struggle. She watched you try to lure away the enemies and the lord with your surviving teammates as she nibbled on your earlobe and toying at your growing bulge.

Your head is getting all loosened from everything that Chaeyoung is doing at you. She surely doing all of this on purpose, and she’s testing you. Deep inside, you admit that you cannot resist your hot girlfriend, but on the other hand, the bad timing of this is encouraging you for a payback that not only is well deserved, but in a thoughtful and harmless way for her.

“Chae- stop, I-I’m begging-”

The screen froze, halting the characters movements as both of you watched the high ground explode. A large message saying DEFEAT flashed, making Chaeyoung pause as well from her movements. She looked at you as you dropped the phone instantly on the bed.

“See, I told you. Better luck next time, I guess.” Chaeyoung nonchalantly said as you remained unmoved. Your breaking point was shattered and it just fuels the plan of getting back at her more with fury. Your knuckles clenched as you felt goosebumps and adrenaline inside while she kept on blabbering in your ear.

“Chaeyoung, this is your last chance to say sorry. Now.”

“And if I don’t?”

“What’s coming to you after, I swear you don’t want none of it.”

“Ooh wow, that really set me on the edge.” She mockingly expressed fear at you. “Looks like you still ain’t ready yet. I’d like to see you try-” Chaeyoung stopped at her words when she watched your star on the screen got decreased, resulting your rank as well to transition back from Legend I to Legend II.

“That’s it, COME HERE!” You had enough. You spun around, harshly grabbed Chaeyoung by the arm and pinned her on the bed.

“U-huh, w-what, you’re mad at me now?”

“More than you think.” You realized that Chaeyoung was wearing the new set of clothes you picked for her, confirming your thoughts. “You did all of that on purpose, don’t you? To prevent me from kicking your ass?”

“And if I say yes, what will you do?” Chaeyoung cooed. “Fuck me rather in the ass?”

“Is that a suggestion? Alright. I won’t hold back on you, you attention-seeking little bitch.” You pulled down her white shorts with force but not in your full limit, still avoiding to damage your beloved outfit of hers.

Her lower back with that inticing huge birth of evil tattoo along with her curvy ass is exposed. You lift it up and make it raised upwards. “I’ll make sure you’ll wish you never did that.

“Yes please, punish me however you want. Punish me for being a bad girl.” Chaeyoung’s submissive kink was activated. It thoroughly making more sense to you why she behaving strangely since earlier.

“Oh I will. You think I’ll let you pass for ruining my win streak.” You slapped her left cheek very hard. Chaeyoung winced at the pain, yet it leaves a satisfied smile on her lips.

“I’m trying to tell you that I don’t give a fuck if you’re better than me, yet you still wanted to make me look worse.” You slapped her again for the second time, on the right cheek. Chaeyoung gasped and whimpered again at the stinging pain. “I was instead trying to save my credit from being decreased.”

“Not only that, you made me look embarrassing to my friends.” A third spank was unleashed.

“You ruined my momentum.” Fourth spank.

“Pushed back my rank when I was supposed to advance!” Fifth.

“Don’t beg me for mercy tonight, because I won’t show you one.” Sixth. Her cheeks are now all red from the impacts of your palm. Chaeyoung is now burying her face on the cushion to muffle her screams and rub some tears of joy in her eyes.

“Fucking greedy slut, you deserve all of this.” Seventh. You saw her legs almost giving in.

“We haven’t even started yet, Chaeyoung. You should’ve made yourself prepared if you wanted this!” You pulled up her legs again and went for an eighth slap.

“I bet you’re happy now, not only getting what you wanted to see me being devastated at my loss, huh? Making fun of me for you own satisfaction, selfish bitch.” Ninth spank to both of the cheeks.

“Last one. I want you to scream, I want you to say sorry for what you did, you got me?” Chaeyoung nodded weakly. She felt her ass take the tenth and last whip on her rear. The amount of pain contained was poured out all through her voice, “SORRY!!! I’M SORRY IF I GOT IN BETWEEN OF YOUR GAME!!!”

“That’s cute.” You chuckled. “But too bad, I pleaded for you to stop, and you didn’t listen. Now, don’t blame me for doing the same. It won’t end here yet. We have a lot of time for me to teach you a lesson.”

You kneeled in front of her abused ass, spreaded it, and pushed your face in between. You squeezed her soft cheeks like dough as you kissed her pillowy flesh repeatedly. Chaeyoung is left mewling at your unexpected next move.

You slightly lowered to me the length of her pussy’s slit. “Good lord, it’s almost like a fucking fountain here. You really want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” You scooped some fluid dripping and slurped it. “Impatient whore..”

Without wasting more precious pre-cum of hers, you catched them all by gliding your tongue across her pussy dangerously slow. Back and forth it goes, Chaeyoung’s mouth contorts in different reactions at how good your oral performance in her wet pussy. You bit her clit and pecked a kiss on it before you let go.

You removed your shorts and underwear, revealing your cock that was woken up by Chaeyoung’s playful touches. “Since you’re so eager to get some of this cock, I’ll shove it right up in your fucking holes and fill it up untilyou turned into my personal cumdump. I bet you even want that to happen, right?.”

With a push, your cock went straight inside of Chaeyoung’s tight entrance, sliding it a bit faster until its full length is cupped by its walls. You decided to give this a build-up, establishing a slow rhythm at the start until her ass starts to ripple faster the more your poundings getting louder and stronger.

“U-ugh ugh ahm yes~” Chaeyoung’s voice cracking at every bumps she take from your crotch. You grabbed both of her wrists and tied them on her back for handle, making her hover above the bed as you fucked her rapidly without any permission of self-support.

“”Fucking take all of this, Chae!” You made her vibrate all over your cock, drilling her ass before letting go of her arm. You went slow for a second until Chaeyoung noticed her scalp is getting some pressure. Her head was pulled back, she shrieked as you used her hair this time as a handle while you continued fucking her. “Yeah there you go, work that ass for me. Nice and tight.”

Animalistic huffs and grunts can be heard from you, and Chaeyoung is loving how you’re dismantling her petite boy like a true man possessed with temptation and lust driven by seduction. “I’m gonna cum in that pretty ass of yours, tattoo princess. Exactly as what you need.”

Her insides were flooded with streaks of cum released from your tip while you give more pushes to ensure that your load will be stuck deep inside of her cavern. You slowly let go, Chaeyoung moaned at the slimy friction of your cock exiting her used asshole. Not only your head is stained with the remains of your cum, some started to drip out from her puckered hole.

“We’re far than settled, bitch. Don’t be snapping out on me now.” You flipped the hem of her croptop from behind as you saw her splayed put of the bed. Roughly spun her around, she was now facing you from below, her eyes flickering in exhaustion abd mouth gaped in shock.

You made out with her, lips and tongue dancing through your mouth within each other. Taking this as your short distraction, you pushed your huge cock again in her pussy, making her gasp loudly. Your arms stood on each sides of her head, trapping her into your own isolation of pleasure.

“You don’t how much I’m enjoying this look of you.” You said as you watched Chaeyoung’s face reacting lustfully to your strokes. “No more hints of smug now, huh? Who’s in control now, you pathetic bastard?”

“Is that all you’ve got?” Chaeyoung challenged you, showing arrogance despite in the midst of destruction. “I haven’t been satisfied yet.”

“Oh you just wait. I’ve held my patience for you even if its thin, but now, you’re just tempting me to leash out everything on you, like this.” You replied. Placing your arms on her neck, you deepened the hold and tightened her until she began choking on her breath beneath your fucking.

“Laugh now, you naughty brat! Come on!” The sounds of bed creaking and the skin slapping echoed around the room.

“F-fuck yesss, that’s it. Take my breath, make it yours!” Chaeyoung grips on your forearm like her life depends on it as her face starts to become pale, losing air slowly from your lock.

“Now it’s me enjoying how defeated you look.” You added more movement through your fucking, exploring her insides and searching for that g-spot. It didn’t last long as when Chaeyoung furiously taps on your wrists, she coughed and breathe heavily before moaning loudly in your arms.

“There! Fucking ravage me, I’m about to cum soon!”

She must’ve forgotten that her wishes and requests are completely invalid to you now. This is her karma she has to face. You ignored her pleads as you kept your cock plugged inside of her pussy.

You undressed her sports bra and threw it around in the room, you played with her small breasts while she looked at your confusedly. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“How does it feel now being ignored and sticking in to your silly antics?” You snickered at her. She raised her eyebrows in surprise before it was replaced with pleasure as she bit her lower lip when you start devouring her tits one after another.

You inserted your arms on her back and pulled her closer, her tits mashing on your face. You rubbed and licked every area of her breasts, ensuring they all covered with your spit. Chaeyoung arched her back to allow you claiming them all by yourself.

You removed your arms shortly to lock her arms before you returned it around her, relocating your arms this time to the back of her head. She was now spreaded out before you planted her back at the bed and bent her in half like a seashell. That’s when you decided to pick up the pace by fucking her again ruthlessly.

Chaeyoung is now saying broken words, unrecognizable rounds or whatever it is, a fact that she is now spiraled downward from your rough treatment. You sniffed the smell of her sweaty yet fragrant neck as you fuck her relentlessly, her feet waving around in the end as you do so. “Keep screaming, you naughty brat! Let me hear how you love taking my cock so much.”

“Yeah yeah yeah shit! Mhhhmmm oh God, you’re so big! You’re about to break meeee~”

A second load was poured inside her pussy as you reached your climax, making her shiver in your body stacked above you. You didn’t even allow her to ride out her orgasm as you still continued to perform shallow thrusts in her pussy, pumping your seed into her womb securely.

You left her on the bed and stood at her heaving figure, her strength and enthusiasm no more evident in her. She was there sprawled widely in your bed, her pussy gushing with cum, her sweaty naked slim body deliciously attractive.

“Look at you now, girl.” You said, shaking your head. “All worn out from being manhandled and properly disciplined. You’re gonna beg for me to stop now?”

“N-no… I- I’m not done with you yet.” Chaeyoung said as she tried to get up from the bed. “You wanted to finish me right? Fucking do it. This isn’t enough yet, don’t be too soft on me. Unless, you want me to repeat it again-”

“Oh no you don’t, that will be your last.” You snatched her arm and tugged her body at you so that she went standing now from the bed, her body pressed at you, her senses snapped awake at the force you applied on her.

She was easy to be dragged and carried thanks to her light size. You gave her a kiss on the lips while you stimulate her pussy with speed. Chaeyoung went moaning in your mouth and grasped your cock, jacking it off in return.

As your manhood erected back to life, you rotated her so that her back figure is facing you. Hooking your arm on her underpits, your hand aided your cock to insert it back on her pussy. After it slid it, she tiptoed as she was once again cornered in your hold.

You didn’t waste any time to give her the treatment she wanted, you fucked her roughly, her ass bouncing and rippling at the pounding you’re giving her. Ravaging her pussy in a full nelson, Chaeyoung’s cracked voice increased in sync.

Your hands left the back of her head for a moment, switching through her two perky tits bouncing rapidly at your pace. You pulled her nipples and squished it repeatedly in between your thumb and ring finger. Chaeyoung couldn’t describe the incredible feeling of pain and pleasure combined that you’re providing for her.

She writhe in pain as you cupped her breasts, squeezed it to its might and even slapping at it, giving equal abuse just like what you did to her ass hours ago. Her tits reddened as you stop before locking her in and suckled her neck and chest, raining it with hickeys. “You asked for this, Chae. This is all for you.”

You filled her pussy again with your cum, she fainted in your arms at the insane orgasm she’s having. As you slide off your thick meat out of her pussy, you pushed her back on the bed. Now laying down, you became aware that your energy can’t keep this up long anymore so you decided to wrap this with one last harsh sexual activity you knew she would love.

Dragging her body in circle so that she would be from feet to head in your perspective, you leveled above her head and shove your balls into her face. Getting the signal, she began worshipping it with her talented mouth while you stroke your cock at the feeling of her tits on your hand.

Now all slick and wet, you pushed your shaft and lodged it to her awaiting mouth. To make her pretty lips and throat tight as hell, you wrapped your hands again around her neck, choking her as you facefucked her upside down. Turning Chaeyoung as your human fleshlight effectively amusing you.

“Yeah that feels so fucking good, Chaeyoung. You look so damn hot being used like this.” You said as your eyes rolled and your legs squatted to erratically impale into her mouth. The sensation is outstanding, her mouth sliding across your length while she is in air restriction makes you want to dominate her like this often.

You groped and massaged her breasts as you kept the speed, fucking her intensely just like how you did with her pussy and ass. The gags were astoundingly loud, followed by her quick pats on your thigh to announce her limit.

Few more strokes, you blasted one last load of creamy cum in her mouth before Chaeyoung shifted her body to allow her to swallow it all.

Some of it went flowing out on the corners of her lips, but she didn’t let every drop go to waste as she tasted them with her fingers. You tapped your cock on her tongue repeatedly before she gave you one last suck to clean the residue.

You went sitting on the floor, leaning your back on the side of the bed while Chaeyoung face was still upside down beside you, as she remained laying in reverse. You looked at each other and both smiled at whatever just happened.

“That was… damn, I didn’t know what came into me.” You chuckled. “Are you alright?”

“Definitely better.” Chaeyoung answered proudly. “I missed you being so rough at me..”

“So it was indeed planned.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I had to.” Chaeyoung apologized with pure sincerity. “I became horny out of nowhere and I craved for us to have sex.”

“And that’s what you thought to do? To insult me and cost me my match?”

She only gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. But I swear, I don’t mean it at all.”

“No worries, it’s just a game, babe. I knew you did, actually I even saw it coming that you want my attention when you wore the clothes I bought for you. You looked so insatiable.” You kissed her on the cheek.

“Then I’ll wear that more often.” She grinned and winked. “Anyways, about your rank. I could help you if you want.”

“Wait but you’re already in mythical glory?”

“I can use my smurf account though. I’m in Epic there.”

Without any hesitation, you accepted the offer from your girlfriend. “Nice! Save me from my curse, please.” And Chaeyoung just laughed at your banter.

===OOO===

[frombookstoretobookstore]

You're in my Spot

Abbot x (L&D doctor)reader

Summary: Abbot and Reader deal with a difficult birth that has reader questioning whether she wants to continue practicing medicine. Jack comforts her because he doesn't want to lose her.

TWs: difficult birth, blood, mentions domestic violence to paitent, everyone lives!

Masterlist

Abbot sets his jaw as he works, trying to remain headstrong despite the challenging case before him, Shen, and Ellis.

A rig had just pulled up with a 15-year-old girl, in labor, and suffering from major wounds from a domestic dispute. Her baby daddy had pulled a knife on her when she’d asked to be brought to the hospital.

Dr. Walsh barges in, accepting a trauma gown from a nurse as she enters. “The hell.” She curses softly; her usual snarky demeanor gone as she takes in the case.

“Someone get Dr. y/l/n down here! Tell her to bring her NICU teams!” He shouts. “Pack those wounds, as soon as the baby is born, we’ll get her up to surgery for you.” He says to Walsh over his shoulder.

“Born?” Even Walsh is thrown off as she pulls on a pair of gloves, helping Ellis and Shen try and staunch the bleeding.

“I’ve got baby’s head in my hands as we speak.” Abbot says, tuning out the room. He looks to the young girl, scared and in pain before him. “ETA on y/n?” He sharply calls out to a nurse on the phone to L&D, she shoots him a glare, reminding him of his tone.

“We need to move her upstairs for a c-section.” Walsh says, Abbot only grumbling.

“She’ll deliver in the hallway as soon as we move her. Stabilize her and we’ll move once the baby’s born.” He bites out, looking to the nurse still on the phone. God, where the fuck is his backup.

“Abbot.” Walsh warns as she’s packing the abrasions on the young girl’s chest.

Abbot closes his eyes and breathes a sigh of relief as he feels his favorite L&D doctor slide onto a stool next to him. 

“Thank, fuck.” He whispers to her as she takes in the baby’s head he’s supporting. ��10 cm dilated and fully effaced in the field.”

“Couldn’t leave my favorite ER Cowboy hanging.” She whispers as she takes over, her NICU team streaming in behind her. 

“Call the blood bank I want as much o-neg as we can get down here. Sweetie, you just focus on breathing, you don’t even need to push, just let your body do the work.” She says as Ellis supports the scared and hurting girl.

“Abbot.” She nods to him, and he takes a seat next to her ready to assist. “I’m going to do my best to deliver this baby and once I’m done, I need you to start hemorrhage protocol. Judging by the blood leaking from her cervix, her uterus got sliced, possibly the placenta.”

They work in tandem to save both lives, each calling out to their respective teams. They’ve done this dance before, often having worked in emergency deliveries and other cases together.

As soon as the baby’s born, Abbot is trading places with y/n as the young girl starts hemorrhaging.

“Come on sweetheart,” He hears y/n cooing softly, cleaning the baby boy off while she rubs him. Abbot feels relief as the baby boy uses his new lungs to shriek.

Abbot takes over as he notices Shen falter slightly, the amount of blood pouring out of the 15-year old’s cervix and the stab wounds to her chest overwhelming the new attending.

“Walsh, you better have an OR ready as soon as we stabilize her.” He’s gritting his teeth, doing his best to do everything he can.

The missing snark from Walsh makes his stomach drop, she can see the damage and doesn’t think the kid will make it.

“Walsh, I swear if I turn around and you aren’t calling an OR to have it ready, I will make your life a living hell.” Y/n says as her team keeps assessing the newborn. Abbot notices the tightness in her shoulders as she works. She knows the chances of the girl bleeding out in the next ten minutes are extremely high, the chances of her making it to an OR low.

Miraculously, they manage to stabilize her enough for Walsh and the other nurses to rush her to surgery, her baby boy already up in the NICU. 

No one has time to process the worst sides of humanity and a birth imaginable before his team is pulled into saving the lives of an MVA. He and the rest of the crew compartmentalize so they can continue saving lives.

He takes the elevator up to the roof to complete his end of shift ritual, to enjoy the new day and the early sunshine. He surprises himself, wanting to enjoy the sun; not to look at the gap between the ledge and the sidewalk below. 

His eyebrows furrow as he takes in her silhouette against the city landscape. He approaches slowly, watching her with her head down, her forearms resting on the guard rails.

“You’re in my spot.” He says softly as he joins her.

She laughs and he pretends he doesn’t see her wipe a tear away from her cheek.

“We saved everyone tonight, talk to me.” He tips his head up at her, giving her room to talk.

“She’s 15-years-old Abbot.” She breathes in shakily. “She came in, already in labor, with wounds from a domestic, and we’re releasing her. We’re releasing her to no housing, no support, no resources, and with a new baby. We barely had the funding, let alone the resources to help her…” She trails off, looking down at her hands as she picks at the skin around her nails.

“It’s just one of those cases that seems to be what’s breaking me. One that drives me closer to just… walking away.”

He lets out a breath as she confesses wanting to leave, maybe go into private practice. His chest grows tight when she mentions wanting to leave medicine all together.

“I know you. You work doubles when the ER dayshift needs an extra set of hands, and I’m sure you’d work a triple if it were legal.” She huffs out a pained laugh. “I’m not so sure you could just walk away.”

“Zip it, Jack Rabbit,” He smiles at her hearing his nickname. “You’d do the same thing. It just so happens I know you have a police scanner. You’re never truly off either.”

“Doc, if you leave…” He trails off, trying to judge whether now is the time to say something, “I know a lot of us are going to feel lost without you. Not just L&D, but also the ER. And… me.” She looks up at him suddenly, his confession catching her off guard. He’s studying the cityscape, avoiding her eyes.

“What?” She breathes, leaning up on her arms, her hands gripping the guard rails.

“You do good here doc, hate to see you leave.” He’s knocking his knuckles across the cold metal of the guardrails, still avoiding her gaze.

She breathes out in a rush, staring up at the blue sky as she feels the sun on her face. She closes her eyes tight against the rush of emotion. She barks out a laugh, Abbot turning to her suddenly, a confused look on his face.

She turns to him with a smirk, “I’m sorry. Did thee Jack Rabbit Abbot just admit he has enough emotions in his cold guarded chest, that he’d miss little old me?” She’s poking him in the chest, and he groans, laying his head down against the cold metal railing.

“I’ll admit it doc, you’ve grown on me. But like a fungus I can’t get rid of.” He pushes himself up, looking at the woman beaming up at him.

“Say it again,” she mutters, crossing her arms.

“Nope.” He turns and starts heading for the elevator, smirking as he hears her cackle behind him.

“Saaaay it! You find me endearing enough that you’d miss me if I left.” She’s jogging to catch up with him, hands in her pockets as he punches the down button on the elevator.

"Doctor y/l/n, if you leave this hospital, I will do whatever it takes to bring you back." He leans in, invading her personal space, his eyes boring into hers. He catches her eyes dip down quickly to his lips. 

He starts to lean down, about to seal their lips together; when she turns with a wicked smirk, bouncing on her toes as she waits for the elevator doors to open.

He lets his head fall against the cool wall, bracing his hands on the railings in the space she’d just taken up.

“You think I’m going to let you just kiss me at work?” She laughs, “Nah you gotta buy me breakfast first.”

“What’ll you let me do if I buy you three meals?” His voice dark, his mind fantasizing.

“Well Jack Rabbit,” she says as the elevator doors open and she starts to walk out. “I’d let you get down on those knees for me.” She briefly glances back at him with a wink as she exits on the second floor, observing his reaction as she proceeds towards L& D. 

The doors close and he sucks in a breath as he chuckles, leaning against the back wall of the elevator as it descends. Little does she know he'd buy her breakfast just to hear her talk. But the chance to get on his knees for her? Shit, he'd buy her the moon.

[merlinmylove]

Dragonlord reveal: The Darkest Hour rewrite

Bamf Merlin

The Prince Regent faces the Cailleach. “I am willing to pay whatever price is necessary” Arthur spoke, his voice steady with determination.

Merlin pushes him out of the way. “No. You will not”

“Merlin, stand down! This is not your time to play hero” Arthur pleads, trying to keep his wayward manservant at bay, desperate to keep the situation under his control.

But Merlin ignores him. He keeps his eyes focused on the Cailleach as he walks closer to the stone alter in front of the torn veil. “We know what price must be paid for the veil to close. A blood sacrifice”

“Indeed” The old crone smiled a wicked smile, “The witch killed her own sister upon the blessed alter, and tore open the veil between the worlds. A similar sacrifice must be paid to close it”

“Then I give my life to repair the damage my sister caused” Arthur tried yet again to step forwards, but once more Merlin interrupted him.

“A blood sacrifice, yes. You did not specify that a life must be taken. And I willingly give my blood”

“Merlin!” Arthur groaned indignantly as his servant ignored him.

The Cailleach moved closer to the pair, taking them in. Her eyes looked calculating as she observed their odd behaviour.

“And what would the blood of a servant be compared to the life of a prince?” she mocked. She knew of course that he was Emrys, she knew what powers he possessed. Perhaps she wondered how he would challenge her.

Merlin steadies himself, shoulders tighting and back straight, “I am the last dragonlord”

The Cailleach smiled.

“I am the son of Lord Balinor Ambrosius, third of his name, Duke of Elmet and descendant of the Fisher King.” Pausing for just a moment to gather his courage, he continued;

“I am the last of my kind, the last man in a lineage that predates the Roman Invasion. You ask what my blood is worth…Dragonsblood flows through my veins: the ancient creatures of the Old Religion, venerated and revered all over the world. My blood is that of dragons.”

Merlin could not keep his eyes off the torn veil in front of him. He could feel Arthur looking at him, probably distraught and angry, but he knew had to keep going. But then, In his peripheral vision, he could see Lancelot nearing the veil — no!

Merlin could not stand by and watch as another friend looses his life when he knew he could prevent their death. He is Emrys, magic incarnate, and the Cailleach knew it.

The magic inside him flared up. It’s not the first time he’s used his powers to speak change into existence. If he says his blood is worth the same as a life given willingly, then it is.

“A single drop of my blood is worth more than the life of a High Priestess.”

A moment to silence passed before the Cailleach nodded her head in acceptance.

«How brave, young dragon. So you do challenge me after all. Very well. But are you sure you’re willing to part with such a precious thing? You might save your Prince’s life tonight, but tomorrow when you return to Camelot he will demand that you burn at the stake for your powers”

Arthur’s breath hitched and he tried to lift a hand and reach Merlin. He ignored his hand as he raised his voice again.

“Then so be it”

Merlin kneeled down to get the dagger he always kept in his boot. Handy for all sorts of occasions; cutting herbs, whittling firewood, stopping assassins, and apparently, sacrificing his own blood.

Holding his hand up and over the alter he spoke “I willingly give my own blood to heal the veil that Morgana tore open. May the spirits find their rest and return to their rightful home”

The blade cut into his palm and he squeezed hard. A single drop of red fell down onto the alter already tainted with Morgauses’ blood.

A warm and soothing wind rushed through the Isle of the Blessed as the torn veil stitched itself back together. The silence that followed was deafening as the haunted screams of the spirits disappeared and the wind stopped howling.

A few moments passed before the Cailleach spoke. “It is done. The veil is closed, and the spirits will no longer torment the living. Your sacrifice was accepted by the gods and goddesses.”

Her eyes leered form under her hood

“But will it be accepted by your Prince? He is, after all, the son of the man who eradicated your entire family”

She disappeared into thin air before he could reply. Not that he knew what he would’ve said. Neither does he know what Arthur will say once he turns around.

But he knows what he will see.

The face of a man who’s been lied to for years. The betrayal and fear will be clear as day, and there is nothing he can do about it now. He made his choice, and now he must stand by it.

Merlin knows he ought to be executed or exiled simply for existing. All the knights surrounding him has sworn an oath to uphold the laws of their kingdom — and the law says he must die. They’re all expert killers, carrying swords and dressed in battlearmour. If they were not his friends, he would be petrified.

Merlin can only hope Arthur is kind enough to allow him a moment to say goodbye to Gaius and Gwen before he’s banished.

And perhaps Arthur had been right all those times he’s called him a coward. Because when he turns he does so without looking at Arthur or the knights, instead keeping his eyes on the stone floor at all times.

“We must hurry back. Camelot will be happy to see their Regent alive and well”

- - - - - - -

Read it on AO3 here

[aroace-avenue]

Typed and cleaned up a mini-zine I made a while ago for an ace week zine making event. Made in reaction to my continued frustration what is often seen as "acceptance" and the DSM.

Printable mini-zine here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1CI-eKcPG61ezopxGcqYtYTYpkDelT3r5/view?usp=sharing

For folks not familiar with mini-zines here are instructions on how to fold them: https://docpop.org/2018/01/how-to-make-mini-comics-my-guide-to-cutting-and-folding-an-8-page-zine/

[Zine text:

Cover: Asterisk Acceptance. What does asexual acceptance actually mean?

Page 2: Asterisk acceptance: accepting something by adding exceptions to existing assumptions rather than challenging the assumptions.

This shows up all the time when people try to include asexuality. While often well meaning, it falls short of actual acceptance.

Page 3: Examples include:

We are all sexual beings*

*except for some asexuals

A strong romantic relationship needs sex to thrive*

*except for some asexual relationships

Sexual attraction is a core part of being human*

*except for asexual people

Page 4: This even shows up in medical spaces.

The DSM, the text used for defining and diagnosing mental disorders in Canada and the USA, has two diagnosis that can often apply to asexual people.

In the most recent version of the DSM, DSM-V, these are Female Sexual Interest/Arousal Disorder (FSIAD) and Male Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (MHSDD).

Page 5: Both of these diagnoses have exceptions for people who identify as asexual.

But is that enough? What about the person who’s never heard “asexual” before? What about the doctor that doesn’t believe them? What about those whose asexuality isn’t lifelong? Does this exception help them?

Page 6:

Asterisk acceptance fails because it doesn’t question the underlying assumptions. It only adds exceptions to the rule. It continues to alienate, obscure and other those that it places in the list of exceptions.

Page 7:

Not only does asterisk acceptance hurt asexual people, it closes the possibilities asexuality brings to non-asexual people.

How much stronger could consent be if “no” was always an option?

What types of connection and pleasure exist beyond sex?

What do we want sex to mean for us and our relationships? Are there more ways of accessing that meaning?

Last Page: Real acceptance must happen at the root. ]