#not about that though. it's a silly one. and also not about any of this month's prompts hglsdkhklds

[gf2bellamy]

not to break your heart and make you sad but how do you think dad spencer wouldve coped in prison away from his kid(s)

girldad!spencer strikes again.

spencer would not cope well in prison. at all.

his mind would be consumed by thoughts of his daughter. the idea of missing out on her life, of leaving you to raise her alone, would eat at him constantly.

he’d feel physically ill, every time he remembered he wasn’t there to tuck her in at night.

when you visited, you’d bring him drawings she made for him. he’d try so hard to keep it together, but the second you handed them to him, his breath would hitch. he’d hang them up in his cell, but every time he looked at them, his eyes would burn.

they were his only comfort, yet they also reminded him of everything he was missing.

you’d never bring her to see him in prison, and he’d never ask you to. the thought of her seeing him behind glass, in a jumpsuit, surrounded by guards, it would destroy him.

he’d rather she remember him as the man, the one who carried her on his shoulders and read her stories, not like this.

at home, she’d ask about him. "where’s daddy?" 

you’d kneel down, brushing her hair back, forcing a smile. "he’s just working, honey. he’ll be back soon."

sometimes, you’d buy her a new toy or book and say it was from him, just so she wouldn’t forget how much he loved her.

he’d write her letters, pages and pages of them. filled with bedtime stories, silly jokes, and promises of all the things they’d do when he got home. when you read them to her, she’d giggle, hugging the paper like it was him. and when you visited spencer, you’d recount every detail, how her face lit up and how happy she was.

the worst moments were the quiet ones.

lying on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was crying, if she was scared, if she even remembered his voice. he’d press his hands over his face, shoulders shaking, because the guilt was suffocating.

he keeps track of her age down to the hour. he knows exactly how old she is at any given moment.

“4 years, 7 months, and 6 days,” he’ll murmur to himself like a mantra, over and over.

he re-reads her letters and drawings until the pages are worn. he knows every scribble, every crooked heart by memory. sometimes he traces the lines with his fingertip, pretending her tiny hand is in his.

he dreams about her constantly. sometimes it’s her running into his arms in the backyard. sometimes it’s a nightmare, her calling out for him and he can’t reach her.

he tries to teach her through his letters. little lessons disguised as stories: "did you know butterflies taste with their feet?"

he wants her to always feel like he’s still guiding her, even from far away.

he imagines your life at home constantly. he pictures you making her breakfast, tying her shoes, buying her new dresses. he imagines you brushing her hair the way he used to, and he can’t decide if it makes him feel better or worse.

he feels crushing guilt. even though it wasn’t his fault. even though you tell him every visit: “you did nothing wrong.”

he still blames himself. for leaving you to do everything alone. for leaving his daugher to grow up without a dad. even if it was just for 3 months.

you’re his anchor. your voice. your smile during visits. the way you tell him stories, “she made a new friend at school.” the way you never stop believing in him. he’d fall apart completely without you.

he can’t let go of the image of her the day before he was taken away. whatever she was wearing, whatever she said. he plays that day over and over. he didn’t know it would be the last time he tucked her in for who knows how long. if he had, he would’ve held her longer.

he swears he’ll make it up to both of you one day. he doesn’t know how, or when, but in his mind, he builds a future where you’re together again.

[endahouselikecarpet]

Date Everything Housemates x Reader

Jealous HCs

[Hi there! This is the first thing for Date Everything that I have written. That's to say, I'm still getting a hang of these characters, so some things might be a bit off. Tone is in line with the game- nothing overtly sexual, but innuendos here and there. Nothing that should have to be tagged, just having some fun getting to know the characters :)]

Jerry- The thing that gets him jealous is seeing you talk to Cam. It’s not that there’s really a rivalry between the two of them, at least not from Cam’s view. It’s just that Jerry has seen one too many things that could have been or already in his collection head Cam’s way. He’s been able to work on the frustration and anxiety that happened when something moved along (even if it still wasn’t one his favorite ordeals), and was actually starting to be a bit more accepting of the whole thing. After all, even though there was a pretty large personality difference, the both of them still had the common hobby of collecting forgotten, discarded things; who was he to deny another person that?

Well, that was until he saw the two of you talking. While he couldn’t quite place why, seeing you both being so casual with each other sent that same anxious chill down his spine. This soured his mood, and many of the others that lived by him picked up on it. They were all torn between checking on him and letting him vent things out in his own way, and decided on the latter seeing as they didn’t know what was bothering him.

He wouldn’t totally ignore you if you talked to him soon after, however, he would only give short, mostly one word answers. It’s not that he’s really mad at you or anything, he just knows he’s in a bad mood and doesn’t want to say much so he doesn’t accidentally snap at you and make you feel like he is. After you’re able to get him to talk with you about it, he’ll apologize (even if he didn’t really do anything too bad), and feel a bit better that he wasn’t going to lose you. He also wouldn’t mind if you were getting close with some of the others around the house, but feels a lot more assured if the two of you do check-in’s with each other to make sure you were both still doing alright.

Betty- She gets more of a worried jealous than a frustrated one. It wasn’t something that she even considered herself capable of as she’s a very laid back person. What happened to set it off for her was something pretty simple too.

You had been watching a movie and fell asleep on the couch. Beth had sat there for a good bit of the night wondering where you were. That made he start to worry that you were upset with her, or that she wasn’t good enough for you. It’s more of a situation of her being jealous of an imagined, better self than any other person or time and attention you were receiving from the others. The whole thing is mostly fueled from worry.

When the morning rolls around and she found out what happened, she would feel rather silly about it. Still, she can’t help herself from overthinking the whole situation the rest of the day. All it would really take to calm her is for you to sleep next to her again. She knows you would never do anything to hurt her, and sometimes she just has to remind herself that she is good enough for anyone, including herself.

Errol- He saw you. He saw you at the other counter. Heating something to eat… not with him, but with that loud-mouth Luke! Why would you do such a thing? Why- after all you both had learned from each other? Did you like you meals half heated? Did you want the textural experience of eating a hot sponge?

Why do such a thing to yourself- to him?! Oh, what he would give to save you from this unfortunate choice! To have you here, with him, receiving hot, perfect food from him! To have you feel a rush of heated air as you firmly shook his basket! Perhaps, leave him feeling at least a bit filthy with the… grease… oh, the vile grease!

He thinks he’s being sly about the whole thing, and while Luke and yourself are too busy doing your own thing to really notice, that is not the case for the rest of the kitchen. Everyone does their best to ignore the palpable bitterness in the air, but, boy is that difficult with how intense it is. The air wasn’t just thick, it was gelatin.

Scandalabra- Oh, he would be soooo bitchy about it. Is one of those people that’s like, “You know what you did.” When there is little to no way for you know what you did.

After a bit of digging, or rather, mining through your thoughts, you arrived on a set of fake, battery powered candles that you had bought the other day. It wasn’t something you were even too focused on when you bought them. All you knew is that they were on sale for super cheap, and that you were going to use them to decorate somewhere. Seeing as they were electric powered lights, Lux was the one using them (not that it was their favorite outlet.)

While Scandalabra is usually self-assured enough that he couldn’t care what anyone else thinks about him (at least as far as personality goes), this was something that he saw as an open threat. Not, from you, oddly enough. Poor Lux is just confused at the death stares they had been getting in droves.

He sees this as the influencer trying to turn you against him. And, with a mockery of something so closely related to his person! A candle made of plastic! Oh, perish the thought!

This one can be a bit tricky to handle. There will be a decent amount of time where he will be as cold as the silver of his candlestick, however, once he finally gets convinced that he had nothing to be jealous of he would be as pliable as warm wax in your hands. It’s an action that’s a strange mix of needing reassurance and his way of non-verbally apologizing. He’s been worried about how much you care about him; play with his hair and call him pretty!

It seems that even though you two are working things out, he’s still got some major jealousy to deal with.

Sophia- Firmly believe she is one of the most emotionally mature people in the house. So, when she does see you with someone who's trying to get a bit too involved, she can at least admit that she is jealous. That's the first step to fixing things after all.

Will talk to you about it. Just talk, nothing else. Her lifestyle is all about role playing and control with consent. She would never take actual negative feelings into what you guys do. She'll make sure you're both good before doing anything.

That being said, if you are both good, then she has no problem using how she felt as inspiration for your next night together.

Luke- Lunch time! And, he knows you got pizza bagels just for the occasion! Oh, you're... getting a baking pan out? That might not fit, and he also doesn't think you're supposed to metal with him. But, what the hell! He'll try anything at least once!

You... You're going to Stefan? Wha- what do you mean!? Yeah, sure, the box might have oven instructions, but- but who ever hear of cooking pizza bagels in a not-microwave oven!

He's got very big emotions, and that goes both ways of the spectrum. When he's grouchy, that's all he feels. But, once you talk to him again he's immediately an emotional mess!

He thought you were never going to use his microwave again! Please! You and pre-cooked, frozen food are all he has!

Gets flustered when you sort things out with him. Jealous? What do you mean? He was just worried you were jealous. Yup, and that's why he acted like he was, so you could feel like you weren't alone. Totally, what happened.

Keith- Seems like you lost the key to that padlock. Perhaps he could be-

Bobby Pinn. You just opened it with the help of... Bobby Pinn.

He would try to hide it by feigning concern. Not that it's his business, but knowing how to pick a lock in such a way can mean you've been making some rather questionable choices.

Being a skeleton key, that's like the pot calling the kettle black.

Honestly, he's an odd case where he's just frustrated, but when he does let himself feel anger (in a healthy way) it helps him work it out of his system, and things are back to normal.

If you want to fast track the emotional spectrum and have him feel better more quickly, ask him if there's anything he would like to open up about.

Did you just use his own line against him?! Wait, you did you just use his own line against him? You did? That was actually pretty clever- dare he say interesting. Not many people ask a key of all things to open up. Alright then, perhaps the two of you should talk.

Kristof- Hey, there. He couldn't help but notice you have been walking aimlessly around the house. If you were wanting to take a walk and not go anywhere, there happens to be a perfectly good treadmill right here.

You know, instead of wandering around and trying to find something to do, you could be walking with him. It's not that he doubts himself or thinks you would betray his trust in anyway, but you did seem to be very popular with many people here.

True, he could rip most of them apart with his bare hands, and even the ones he couldn't he would try his damnedest, but he knows that wouldn't really fix things; even if that was difficult for him to accept.

Gets jealous easily, but also gets over it easily. If you spend even a tiny amount of time with him he's almost forgotten that he was jealous in the first place. Though, you can always tell he has been recently because those bear hugs of his are even tighter than usual- something you didn't think was possible until you experienced it.

Lux- They are basically having an existential crisis about it. They don't get jealous of other people! People get jealous of them!

Yet, here they are, looking at you hanging out with the Hanks, and it's making their blood boil. They are absolutely not above using their platform to do hit pieces on whoever they're jealous of. They know how to do it in a way that it hits their target, but they still have enough plausible deniability if questioned about it.

In this case they would sneak something into a middle of a stream like, "Ugh, someone's playing... Idk.. something nearby. I don't know what it is other than loud. Because, like, sports are cringe. Massive L. Anyways-"

Not that you want to start anything in public, but if you comment something like, "Lux..." They just go, "Hi, sweetie! Love you!" They know this is going to get them in trouble, but at the moment they're feeling a bit too spicy to care.

Once you talk about it in private they will flutter their lashes over those big, doe eyes and apologize. Don't let them get away with it. Be persistent until you both come to an understanding and you get an actual apology. That way you can both figure out ways to keep each other comfortable when you're talking with other people. Not in a controlling way, just in a boundaries setting way.

Dorian- He gets jealous of... himself. You had been talking with his Trap Dorian self the most lately. He knew- he knew- you weren't vain enough to only want to interact with people who would flirt with you. But, the worry would still be chewing at him.

When he decides the healthiest thing to do was talk to you about it, you were mortified. You explained that there was a flooding scare in the crawlspace, and you simply talked to Trap Dorian because he was one of the closest doors by where you were checking.

Well, now he's mortified too. He hates making people feel bad for not reason, and he totally misunderstood what was happening. That leads to the both of you fidgeting and stumbling over each other's sentences as you both try to cover the situation.

The rest of the house is watching with popcorn.

[ollyissleepy]

𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 (𝐩)

pairings: batfamily x nonbinary!reader summary: they might not fully get it, but will love you regardless.

m.list

b. wayne does he get it? no. will he show that he doesn't get it? no. would ask a few questions (like preferred name/pronouns), but nothing more than that. though, if your timing is right, you could catch him researching about it on batcomputer. 100% funds more charities for lgbtg+ folks (esp. trans and nonbinary youth) after your coming out. also if you ask him he would go to pride parades with you (might even get him to wear a silly shirt or something)

d. grayson unlike bruce, he will ask you all the questions out of genuine curiosity. also does his best at educating people around him. will it be embarrassing? sometimes. but I promise he means no harm. also there's no need to ask him to go to a pride parade, he probably would know about them before you and you bet he's wearing rainbow head to toe.

j. todd would ask you to explain, but unlike dick, a few question are enough. I feel like he's more of a quiet supporter. he'd be like 'oh you're nonbinary cool' just to walk away (later the same day you might find a small item like a pin with nonbinary flag). probably won't go to a pride parade (he's dead after all, so more like can't go), but would watch you from the rooftops to make sure you're safe. might 'inconvenience' a few homophobes/transphobes that are trying to destroy your fun (esp. if they're transphobic towards you).

t. drake already know some stuff about the term 'nonbinary' so, similar to bruce, would only ask about your preferred name/pronouns. mean comments on social media? huh where? oh sorry tim deleted them before you could even read them properly? oh and the person that wrote them? yeah, doxxed, reported, their entire family/all their friends knows about their browse search history. would go with you to a pride parade and might even wear something small related to his own flag

bonus! d. wayne does he get everything you just said to him? not really. would he ask you about it? no, but unlike his father, he would go to someone else to ask about it (would not tell them it's about you, just causally ask about it and not elaborate further). has stabbed at least one person for being transphobic to you. probably wouldn't go to a pride parade (not his vibe I fear), but if you mention going with any other family member instead, he would do anything to get that idea out of your head, 'why are you planning on asking timothy? i'm going with you and it's final'.

[moeblob]

One of the funniest things to me as a Pro Doodler TM is that sometimes I post art for a game with either no elaboration in the tags or just an off the wall concept and people just agree. There's something so freeing about drawing Not Serious Things and people not taking it seriously.

(this happens a fair amount but mostly inspired by someone who liked the art of me slandering Sampo with the "bros onto nothing" messages and people were like "agreed/deserved/omg go king" and also in a recent time to that... the time I drew Ferdinand my son Aegir but used the color palette of a Magikarp and Gyarados and people told me they see the vision even though I didn't have a vision. I am pretty sure I just random number generated and got one of them and decided to commit to the bit. There was no vision to get but it was gotten anyway.)

Thank you to the many fandoms I've drawn for for never kicking me out. Thanks for not being mean and telling me to get out of the tags via mean anons.

[smytherines]

I wonder what happened to Owen's stuff after he died

I always picture him living in a cramped little terraced house. It's nothing fancy, a Victorian-era building with no shower and a coal stove for heat, but the neighborhood he grew up in is still half bombed-out from the war, so it's an improvement for him. There isn't much in it, but it's his own space, with as much privacy as he can realistically hope for in London

He had a good government job, making a pretty decent salary working for MI6, but he strikes me as kind of a frugal guy who prefers to save instead of spend. He hides his money away so that when he finally retires he doesn't have to worry about it. He likes to have a plan

Curt has ADHD, and as a people we are... not great with money. So he has his apartment in DC, and he had enough to buy his mother a safehouse in La Désirade, but the rest he spends on clothes, updating the furniture in his apartment (even though he's hardly ever there), alcohol, presents for his partner, and so on

When Owen dies (the first time), it's months before Curt can bring himself to visit the house. He breaks in through a back window, and he wanders around. He remembers the one Christmas they got to spend there, maybe a weekend or two where they got to be together without a mission to worry about. He pockets Owen's cologne from the bathroom, pulls a few shirts from the closet, drinks and cries until he falls asleep curled up in Owen's bed

Eventually he finds the loose floorboard in the bedroom, and it's all there-- every letter, every postcard, every picture, stubs from movie tickets, matchbooks from various hotels and casinos, every silly little trinket Curt had ever given him piled up like treasure

There's also a large bundle of cash. It's not British currency, but American dollars. And attached to the bundle is a note Owen wrote in the event that he is killed in action, telling Curt how much he wished that he could have shared a life with him, lived with him, married him. But the least he can do is make sure Curt is taken care of

I like to think that's the money Curt survived on during his grieving period

With the Russian prison, healing up, developing a new identity with Chimera, it's well over a year before Owen is in London again, wearing a stranger's face. The house is empty, his favorite kettle, his records, the lovely thick chenille blanket Curt had given him as a gift-- its all gone

He tells himself he's just there to destroy any incriminating evidence, but when he checks under the floorboards he's unexpectedly crushed to find that it has all been cleared out

Owen breaks down, takes his anger out on the wobbly banister, puts his fist through the bathroom mirror. And when he finally pulls himself together he tells himself that it's for the best. That those were memories from a life that isn't his anymore. Mementos of his own naivety. But he leaves knowing that there's one thing left, a picture of the two of them concealed in the breakaway heel of his boot, always with him no matter how hard he tries to let go of it

[puprdou]

ㅤㅤnsfw alphabetㅤㅤ──ㅤㅤmanjiro sano

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ A──K

A = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

sometimes he’ll take care of you, other times he just falls straight asleep cuddling. it really depends on which kind of manjiro were talking about here; manila? he’ll take care of you. bare minimum, but he will. bonten? he won’t. he won’t even fall asleep afterwards. final timeline? he’s dead asleep most of the time cuddling without even pulling out—but there are times where he’ll fight the sleep to start a bath, even bathe with you sometimes, and only get ready for bed once you are.

B = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

i feel like he wouldn’t typically have a favorite body part. he’s not particularly cocky or anything about his body; but if he had to choose, it’d be his cheeks. he likes how squishy they are, he especially finds it fun whenever you sit on his lap and squish his cheeks cause it makes him all giggly. his favorite body part of yours? definitely your tummy.. but also your thighs! their both his own personal little pillows- whenever he’s playing games or just on his phone, he’ll place his head on your lap between your thighs, or when he gets needy he’ll plant kisses all across the chub of your tummy. he loves the chub!

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

he loves creampies. he finds them both intimate but also just pleasurable. he gets all pouty when you don’t let him cum inside, or when he has to use a condom :(( he prefers cumming inside, he especially loves watching whenever your own cum will create rings around his cock- he thinks it’s all so damn pretty ’nd cute, and he will watch mesmerized as the little spurts of cum dripped out from your cunt after he pulled out! so cute. ♡

D = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

not really a secret, which is obvious from the way his pants get so tight against his erection each damn time—but he can get hard so easily. doing certain things like just wearing an apron ’nd baking, or wearing one of his hoodies with nothing else, even mere stuff like sitting on his lap gets him all bricked up. at times it’s embarrassing, especially at events when you wear these pretty outfits, he’ll get hard ’nd poor baby will have the hardest time hiding it so it makes him pout :((

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he was so bad ’nd so awkward his first time with you, he was all flushed ’nd so confused! even though he’s seen all that stuff in porn mags, doing it with you, someone he truly loves is way different! he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you, he doesn’t want to make mistakes, he wants to be with you for the rest of his life. after years passed, though, he got wayyyy better.. he knows everything to do to make you cum in a matter of minutes, and every single place on your body that has you shaking under him, moaning like a goddamn pornstar.

F = favorite position (self explanatory, their favorite sex position)

definitely cowgirl. he loves being able to see your face contort into pleasure as your hips bounce repeatedly against his, your arms wrapped around his neck.. it’s the perfect angle for him to attack your neck, too! or, he could play with your tits like this too, it’s all so accessible and he barely has to do a thing! seeing you so desperately fucking yourself on him, needing more and more of him despite his cock splitting you open is so cute in his eyes.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he can be both serious and silly. it really depends on the mood—if he’s in a bad mood, he’s more serious ’nd more strict. nothing too bad, like, he won’t cross any boundaries he’s aware of, but he’s less playful than just normal nights. and if he’s in a good mood, trust me, you’ll know. he’s more playful, more teasing, and he also talks a lot during sex. whether it’s dirty talk, him just being his regular needy, or just talking about random things.. he’s really just a mix of both.

H = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

flawlessly hairless. it’s magical. whether or not you like it like that, he always says he doesn’t like being too hairy (we need more men like this irl 💔💔🙏🙏). he’s always saying how it makes him uncomfortable or how he simply just doesn’t like it and avoids giving a reason. either way, you’ll get used to it eventually. and you sort of have to, everytime you two get into it he’s never hairy.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can be both romantic and very.... unappealing. sometimes he’s just a fucking beast who forgets about your own pleasure at times getting lost in the moment for his own, other times he’s slow, romantic, teasing.. it really depends tbh. if you were the one who was teasing to begin with, he’s definitely more teasing ’nd romantic, but when he’s in a bad mood and your teasing.. oh it’s game over. he’s mean, he’ll say it’s a punishment and he’ll be so mean that you almost start crying! he comforts you after though <3

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

not often does he masturbate, solely because he likes it better watching your hands wrapping around his cock, the cute sight of you fitting him into your mouth so perfectly ’nd rubbing whatever didn’t fit was too good for him to pass up on.. but whenever he can’t come home ’nd your sending him scandalous pictures or videos, he’ll find somewhere where nobodies looking to jerk himself off to the sound of your voice, cause he always gives you a call whenever he needs to. truth is? he’s not that good at it, and he’s totally awkward about it lmfao, poor boy..

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

definitely has an exhibitionism ’nd a sensory deprivation kink! he loves putting a blindfold on you, sometimes he’ll even tie something around your mouth, and he’ fuck you and be so mean about it, teasing and going slow when you need him to go faster! god, and whenever somebody looks at you the wrong way or for too long, he’ll tie them up on a chair after beating them up and make them watch. make them watch how good you are for them, make you watch how much of his you are. this especially goes for the bad timelines.

© 2025 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔, all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, steal or translate my works onto other social media platforms.

[wistfulnightingale]

The Courage of an Angel (or, Sometimes the Ordinary is Extraordinary)

Courage in the face of fear. The willingness to sacrifice one's own safety to protect others. Standing up for what's right in the face of impossible odds, but continuing to fight anyway.

Aziraphale is a Being of Great Courage.

We recognized it as Remarkable Courage when the Angel of the Eastern Gate was forced to encounter Satan himself --

And responded with raised sword and intense determination.

We saw the striking parallels when the Bookshop was under attack by a hoard of demons --

And the determined Principality was prepared to face them down alone, by any means possible, to protect the two humans who had stayed by his side.

It wasn't as easy, though, to recognize the face of extraordinary courage when the battle itself didn't occur...

When the most ferocious Hound of Hell would signal the beginning of the End of all humanity and the Earth itself --

Our Angel knew that showing up to try to "stop the dog" would be futile, but he loves the Earth and cares about humanity (he was the First Protector, after all!) so he chose to attempt it anyway --

And showed up unarmed, with a hand-drawn mustache and a rabbit named Harry.

We remember his silly failed tricks and the children's scorn, but it's far more important to recall that Earth's Guardian Angel was there to do whatever he could to battle the helliest HellHound of all.

Sometimes Extraordinary Courage looks very ordinary, very quiet. Sometimes it is risking yourself with no bravado, no visible heroics --

Like being willing to sacrifice Everything for the sake of 3 innocent children...

Or going into the Unknown, into the Depths of Hell itself, to risk Eternal Imprisonment and Damnation to protect your Best Friend...

Or maybe...

Just possibly...

So that you can protect both humanity (once again) and your beloved Best Friend (yet again) from the powerful Being who purposefully plans to destroy them both --

One of Aziraphale's greatest acts of quiet valor and extraordinary courage...

... looks like this.

I strongly suspect that it is.

*****

Thanks for being here! If you also suspect that Our Angel is stonger and braver than some might conclude, or if you're willing to explore the possibilty, you might enjoy these:

What a Brave and Handsome Demon (Angel?)

Fearful Memories (Aziraphale KNOWS)

A Hefty Jigger of Death (Coffee Checkmate)

[loveletterworm]

My personal reviews of secret boss themes based specifically on their use of the leitmotif (the leitmotif) (you know of it) and not really anything else:

THE WORLD REVOLVING: It's really the purest form of it which would make sense because it's the first one. Still none of the other ones match it in how just happy it sounds, kind of deliriously happy but that's still a genre of happy. Even though it's for a very difficult boss fight with a mysterious character, I don't feel like it sounds very sinister, there's a little bit of that at the very start before the key change, but when the leitmotif proper happens it just sounds celebratory, if that makes any sense...One of the flavor texts in Jevil's fight is "It feels like a whirlwind". The song sounds like that too.

BIG SHOT: BIG SHOT in general is very manic/aggressive, but the use of leitmotif specifically is kind of...the words that keep coming to mind are things like "miserable", but that might accidentally sound like I don't like it. I mean the tone of it. It just sounds kind of sad, the contrast it has to everything else happening in the song is obvious. By 1:07 it's almost being drowned out by the Power of NEO strings and the Spamton talking noises, not so much that you can't still focus on it, but it's getting farther away. If TWR has happiness then BIG SHOT only has wishes for it.

Hammer of Justice: The leitmotif is not at all the centerpiece in this once, which I guess makes sense. When it finally comes in at the end its presence doesn't feel nearly as high stakes as usual (also makes sense). I guess I'm not used to hearing it in this sort of tone, it's actually for once one of the less dramatic/emotional-sounding parts of the song (the section immediately preceding it has that covered). If I'm being completely honest, the ending feels kind of like it's just about to start doing something really cool with it, but then the song just loops...It could have benefited from an extra few seconds maybe. But I guess Gerson is more important than just being the obligatory secret boss, so all his other leitmotifs are more important than just the one too. Maybe it's silly to expect to always hear the same song in the same way over and over again... (...I like the leitmotif though so hopefully we do hear it over again at least a couple more times.)

Black Knife: Legally speaking, I think the verdict is still that this does not have the leitmotif. But still it haunts me when I listen to it, there's all these little bursts of notes that sound like a tiny cut-up piece of the leitmotif has snuck in, but there's no way to prove it, if you look too close you can't see it anymore. The leitmotif is a memory so fleeting that it's become illusory. Did I only think it was there because I hoped it would be? Is there really anything left of it at all?

AIRWAVES: yaeh the air crackles with freedom Freedom to be at the clubbbbbbbb #theclub

[junkuna]

°❀.ೃ࿔* ink me like one of your friend girls - sukuna x reader

chapter 7 : collab ˎˊ˗

─────────────────────

࿔ pairing - tattooartist!sukuna x tattooartist!fem!reader

| summary - sukuna asks you (indirectly) to collab on a tattoo album, tension rises over disagreements in initial designs (how will you deal with your frustration? 😈)

࿔ warnings - not really smut but, intense kissing. also slight mention of mahito from previous chapter, mahito is a warning in himself

࿔ fic tags - ࿔ fic tags - they're both idiots so 0 communication, DEFO gets frustrating at times / shameless smut, mostly vanilla though for the chapters ive already written / megumi is ur apprentice which is cute / sukuna + yujir BROTHERS / mahito is an asshole, mentions of attempted sexual assault. / enemies (ish?) to lovers / trying 2 go 4 a slow burn but i fear it's not as slow as i wanted it to be. will add more as we progress probably be i suck at describing my work / HATE KISSING + sex

࿔ a/n - oooouh they hate each other but they love each other but they hate each other HATE KISS HATE KISS yes yes love it LOVE IT

࿔ wc - 5k

50 junebugs !! :D thank you 4 all the love + support on this silly fic

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The next morning, you woke up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all.

Your body was heavy, muscles sore from how tightly you must have been holding yourself all night. You peeled yourself out of bed, blinking against the thin sliver of sunlight that bled through your curtains. For a few seconds, you just sat there, elbows on your knees, head in your hands.

You didn’t want to think about yesterday.

Or about the bruises.

Or about the way Sukuna’s face had twisted when he saw them.

You dragged yourself into the shower, letting the hot water scald your skin until the tight knot in your chest loosened a little. After, you threw on a loose sweatshirt and some soft old jeans, not bothering to make yourself look remotely professional. You doubted you’d see anyone important today anyway.

You padded downstairs, hair still damp, and flipped the lights on. The familiar hum of the fluorescent bulbs above you was comforting in its own way. Safe. Normal.

You wiped down your station, tidied up the sketchbooks Megumi had forgotten to take with him, and made yourself a coffee that was mostly milk and sugar. Outside, the street was still waking up, a few cars humming by, the occasional person hurrying past the window.

For a while, you just leaned against the counter, sipping your coffee and staring out at nothing.

Then the door creaked open.

You looked up, heart leaping stupidly before your brain even registered it wasn’t Sukuna.

It was Yuji—bright, bouncy, an easy grin stretched across his face despite the early hour.

“Hey!” he chirped, waving a hand. “Sukuna said you might need some company.”

You stared at him, then blinked. “Did he now.”

Yuji bounced into the shop without waiting for an invitation, dropping his backpack by one of the chairs. “He’s busy with appointments, but he said you’ve been looking ‘depressingly lonely’ lately.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself. “Rude.”

Yuji just grinned wider. “So what’s the plan? You got any clients today?”

You shook your head, setting your coffee down with a clink. “Not until the afternoon. And even that’s just a walk-in.”

“Cool,” Yuji said, kicking his legs up onto the chair and lounging like he owned the place. “I’ll hang out, if you don’t mind.”

You didn’t. You weren’t about to admit it out loud, but you were grateful for the company. For the way Yuji filled the space without making it feel suffocating.

The morning passed easily. Yuji helped you organize the ink shelf, made terrible jokes about some of the more cursed color names, and tried to convince you that “Satan’s Blood Red” was an underrated choice for wedding tattoos.

For the first time in what felt like days, you laughed until your stomach hurt.

You wiped at your eyes, the sound tapering off into a breathless sigh. Yuji was grinning across the room like he’d won some kind of prize, arms stretched out like he was asking for applause. You tossed a crumpled napkin at him, which he caught with an exaggerated gasp of betrayal.

“Hey!” he whined, slouching dramatically in his chair.

You smirked, going back to wiping down your station. “That’s what you get for nearly knocking over a whole shelf of ink, you menace.”

Yuji only laughed, swinging his legs lazily off the side of the chair. There was a lull after that—comfortable, easy. You moved around the shop, cleaning out a few trays, half-listening to the steady thrum of cars outside.

Then, out of nowhere, Yuji said, “Hey… uh, do you think you’d ever take on another apprentice?”

You looked up, surprised. His voice was casual, but you could tell from the way he toyed with the string of his hoodie that he was serious. You straightened up, wiping your hands on a rag.

“Why?” you asked carefully.

Yuji shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “I dunno. I’ve been hanging around Sukuna’s shop for a while now. Watching him and Megumi and all that. It’s cool, but…” He hesitated, tapping his fingers against the side of the chair. “I don’t really wanna do his style, y’know? Like… it’s awesome, but it’s not me.”

You tilted your head, studying him. He was earnest, open in a way few people were. It made your chest ache a little.

“I want to do stuff like you,” Yuji continued, his words picking up speed, like he was afraid if he didn’t get it all out now, he’d lose his nerve. “You mix things, like, you do realism but not boring realism, and you’re not scared to make stuff softer. Like, tattoos that mean something to people but don’t have to scream about it. I think that’s cool.”

You stared at him for a moment, thrown completely off balance.

You hadn’t realized he noticed.

You hadn’t realized anyone noticed.

Yuji scratched the back of his neck, looking a little awkward under your silence. “I mean, if you’re not looking for an apprentice, it’s fine! I’ll just, y’know, figure it out. No big deal.”

You set the rag down, stepping closer. Your heart thudded oddly against your ribs.

“Yuji,” you said quietly. “You want me to teach you?”

He grinned, wide and a little bashful. “Yeah. If you want to.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. It was a big commitment. You knew that. An apprentice wasn’t just some helper — it was someone you trained, invested in, believed in. It was trust. But looking at Yuji’s bright, hopeful face, you realized you wanted to say yes. You wanted to believe in someone again.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, but your voice was softer than before, the edges worn down by something warmer.

Yuji beamed. “Take your time! I’m not in a rush or anything. Plus, I’m still technically, like, under Sukuna’s eye or whatever, so it’s not like he’d let me vanish without throwing a tantrum.”

You laughed, a small sound. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

Yuji grinned back at you like he’d just won some kind of prize, kicking his feet against the counter. The atmosphere was light, finally—like someone had thrown open a window and let the stale air out.

You were about to tease him again when the door to the shop swung open, the little bell above it jingling, and Nobara came sweeping in like a force of nature.

“There you are!” she cried, hands on her hips like she’d been searching for you for hours.

You blinked, then cursed under your breath, quickly tossing your rag aside. “Shit, Nobara, I totally forgot you were coming!”

She just laughed and walked straight into you, pulling you into a tight hug without hesitation. You hugged her back, surprised at how easy it felt. A few days ago, she’d been just another stranger from the other shop, someone orbiting Sukuna’s little world. Now, it was like you’d known her for years.

Over the past few days, between late-night drinks and trash-talking tattoo horror stories, you and Nobara had gotten… close. The kind of fast, loyal friendship that you usually only found under fire—under messy circumstances that made people cling to each other harder than usual.

“You smell like disinfectant,” Nobara said, wrinkling her nose as she pulled back.

You snorted. “Better than smelling like beer and regret.”

Yuji made an offended noise from the counter. “Hey, I don’t smell like regret!”

“You still smell like beer though,” Nobara said sweetly, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she flopped dramatically onto the old couch in the corner.

Yuji gasped. “You take that back.”

“Never,” Nobara said, grinning.

You leaned against the counter, smiling despite yourself, letting their bickering fade into the background for a moment. It felt good, having people here. Filling the shop with noise again. It almost felt like it was yours again—something you were building, not something slipping away piece by piece.

“So,” Nobara said after a beat, stretching out and propping her boots up on the table like she owned the place. “I heard a little rumor.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “Apparently Sukuna’s been talking about you.”

Your stomach tensed automatically, but you forced your face to stay neutral. “That sounds fake.”

Nobara snorted. “No, seriously. He’s been telling people he wants to collaborate with you. Like, properly.”

You blinked, stunned. “A collab?”

“Yeah.” Nobara picked at a thread on her sleeve, looking unbothered. “Big piece. Two artists. Shared wall. He’s got it all planned out, apparently.”

You stared at her, the words struggling to compute.

Sukuna wanted to work with you? On purpose?

Yuji nodded eagerly like he was confirming a weather report. “Yeah, he was talking about it yesterday! Said you’re, uh…” He scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Like, good with stuff he’s not good at? Detail stuff. And balance.”

“That’s—” you started, then faltered. Weird.

It was weird.

Sukuna, who had spent months — years, even — making digs at your work, calling your minimalist pieces “skin stickers” and your fine-line portraits “overhyped Instagram bait,” now wanted to collaborate?

You didn’t know whether to be flattered or suspicious.

Probably both.

Nobara gave you a look, like she could read your mind. “He’s a dick, yeah,” she said, shrugging. “But when he respects someone, he respects them. Even if he’s, like, physically incapable of saying it like a normal person.”

You blew out a slow breath, rubbing your palms against your jeans. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Yuji leaned forward, eyes bright. “You should do it! It’d be cool!”

You stared at them both, heart thudding strangely in your chest.

It wasn’t a bad idea.

…It was just an idea.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, voice steady even though your mind was a mess.

Nobara grinned and launched into another story after that, something about her stealing one of Sukuna’s shirts because it was “wasted on his ugly personality.” You let yourself get pulled back into the noise, the teasing, the laughter. It was easier to let the thought of collaboration drift to the back of your mind, where it could sit quietly without bothering you.

You sat back against the counter, letting Nobara and Yuji argue over something ridiculous. Typical. The sounds of their playful bickering filled the shop, making you smile despite yourself. It was nice to feel like you were part of something. It almost made you forget the weird knot in your stomach from earlier.

Still, Sukuna’s mention of a potential collaboration lingered, gnawing at you in the back of your mind. You’d decided you’d message him, if only to shut your brain up for a little while.

You grabbed your phone from the counter and unlocked it, fingers hovering over the screen as you paused, wondering exactly how you should phrase things. You didn’t want to come off too eager, nor did you want to sound like you were backing down.

A quick glance at Nobara and Yuji, who were now debating over who was the better cook (you could almost hear the eye rolls), and you figured, whatever—just message him.

You tapped out the text with a simple message.

You [13:23]: You know, if you wanted to collab with me, you could’ve just asked instead of using Nobara as your messenger.

You stared at it for a moment.

You hit send.

Almost immediately, the three dots appeared.

You watched them, holding your breath for a second as you waited for him to reply. The response finally came, and you felt an unexpected rush of nerves as you read it.

Sukuna [13:24]: So you’re in?

It wasn’t much. A few words. But they were firm, and the bluntness of them almost felt like a challenge. Like a dare to prove you could hang in the ring with him.

You [13:24]: Yeah.

Just as you hit send, Yuji and Nobara���s argument reached its peak, and Nobara shot you a wide grin, clearly proud of herself for something she’d just said. You glanced up, the faintest smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “You two done?”

Nobara shrugged, feigning innocence. “I think Yuji finally conceded that I’m right. Don’t you think so, Yuji?”

Yuji groaned, dramatically covering his face with both hands. “You’re impossible,” he mumbled, but there was a fondness in his tone.

Nobara winked at you. “You know, I think you should stop keeping all this talent to yourself. You’re gonna get so much better working with someone like him.”

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to ask, Who, Sukuna?

Instead, you shoved your phone in your pocket, standing up from the counter and stretching your arms over your head. “Alright, alright. Enough with the bickering.”

Yuji and Nobara broke into another round of teasing, and you let yourself relax again. They made it easy to forget. Easy to laugh.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself feeling oddly light. It was a good distraction, at least, even though Sukuna’s offer had done its job—now you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Just as you were about to turn off the lights in the shop and head out with them, your phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a longer message.

Sukuna [16:56]: Cool, see you tomorrow at 2pm.

“Hey,” you called over your shoulder to Nobara, who had just finished reapplying her lipstick in the bathroom. “Can you do me a favor tomorrow?”

Nobara raised an eyebrow as she stepped out, fixing her lipstick one last time. “Sure, what’s up?”

You gave her a quick look, then glanced down at your phone again. “Could you cover the shop for me for a bit? I have to go meet someone.”

The smirk on her face was instant. “Someone, huh? Is this about a certain collab?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, the heat rushing to your face as you tried to hide a smile.

Nobara chuckled, rolling her eyes. “You know, if you say ‘no’ to Sukuna’s offer, I might have to cry for you.”

You groaned, leaning back against the counter, suddenly exhausted.

Yuji, who’d been oddly quiet for a few moments, now piped up. “What if it’s a trap?”

You glanced at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, casually grabbing a bottle of water. “I don’t know. Just… he’s kinda unpredictable. Be careful, okay?”

You gave him a skeptical look, not sure if he was being serious or just messing with you. But then again, the concern was obvious in his voice.

“Yeah, I will,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant as you slid your phone into your back pocket.

As you stood there, Yuji’s words lingered, a small seed of doubt planted in your mind. But just as quickly as it appeared, you pushed it aside.

Sukuna wanted this collaboration—wanted it bad. And you weren’t one to back down from a challenge.

—

The next day arrived faster than you expected. Your nerves were on edge all morning, trying to shake off the lingering sense of doubt from the night before. You couldn’t quite tell if it was excitement, apprehension, or just sheer curiosity, but you knew one thing for sure—you weren’t looking forward to spending time with Sukuna.

You hadn’t messaged him back since that cryptic “I’ll see you at 2 PM” text. You couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to send another reply, and part of you was hoping he’d just forget about the whole thing. But, of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

You tried to keep busy, tidying up the shop, but your mind kept wandering back to that damn collaboration. What could it possibly involve? Why was he so insistent? Was he just using you because of your skills, or was there something more to it?

The clock ticked closer to two.

By the time the sound of a car engine rumbled outside the shop, your stomach was tied in knots. You stood by the counter, arms folded, trying to look as unbothered as possible.

A honk from outside pierced through the silence of the shop.

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes to yourself as you grabbed your jacket. This was happening.

Walking outside, you saw his car parked out front, the sleek black vehicle too damn expensive for your taste, and there he was, leaning against it with that smug grin plastered on his face.

You had to bite back a sarcastic comment.

“You’re late,” you said flatly, keeping your arms crossed as you approached him.

Sukuna glanced at his watch, smirking. “By like, five seconds. You’re always on time, aren’t you?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

He straightened up as you reached him, opening the passenger door of the car with a flourish, like some kind of obnoxious gentleman. “After you, then.”

You hesitated for a moment, then muttered under your breath, “I’m not getting in that thing.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “What? Are you scared? It’s just a car.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your car,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

He didn’t even flinch. “Whatever. You can walk if you want.”

That was the moment you realized, despite how much you disliked him, this whole situation was probably something you needed to go through—whether you liked it or not.

So, without another word, you slid into the car, more out of stubbornness than anything else. He didn’t need to know how much you actually cared about the potential opportunity.

Sukuna shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side, slipping in and starting the engine. The car’s engine hummed to life, and the smooth sound of it matched the cool air that settled around you both.

“You know,” Sukuna started, voice casual but still carrying that edge that made you want to strangle him sometimes. “You could just admit you’re excited about this.”

You scoffed. “Excited about being roped into whatever weird thing you’ve got going? Not in a million years.”

He smirked. “You’re more fun when you’re pissed off.”

You shot him a glare, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes were on the road, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his gaze.

The ride felt longer than it was. Maybe it was the quiet tension between you two, or maybe it was just the realization that, despite all your resistance, you were still on your way to whatever he had planned.

The city passed by in a blur of neon lights and busy streets. As you looked out the window, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was going to be a game to him. And how much would actually involve your work.

You weren’t sure which one scared you more.

As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, your eyes wandered over to Sukuna’s arm, which was resting on the armrest. The light from the streetlamps cast a soft glow over his skin, and for a moment, you almost forgot how much you hated him. Almost.

That was until your gaze landed on his forearm, and there it was.

The little flower tattoo you’d given him.

It was small, delicate, tucked just beneath the curve of his elbow, and there was no mistaking it. The fine lines, the careful shading—your work.

A strange thrill ran through you. You couldn’t help it. You had been so sure you’d imagined it the night before, especially in your drunk stupor, but there it was, proof that you hadn’t hallucinated anything.

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “I knew I wasn’t seeing things,” you muttered, still staring at the tattoo. “My eyesight’s great even when I’m drunk.”

His eyes flickered to you, his lips twitching into that familiar smirk. “Yeah, I work out.”

“What? No, that’s not what I noticed.” You glanced at him, unable to hide the small satisfaction bubbling up. “The tattoo. I knew you didn’t get rid of it. You’re such a liar.”

His gaze hardened, though the corners of his mouth quirked upward. “I never said I got rid of it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes the fuck you did! You said you got it removed the day after.”

Sukuna kept his eyes on the road, the occasional flicker of amusement in his expression betraying his cool facade. “So? And what are you going to do about it?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had won some unspoken battle in that moment. Sure, he still had that arrogance, but now it was a little harder to ignore the fact that, despite everything, he actually cared enough to keep the tattoo.

The car pulled into a parking spot, and Sukuna shifted the gear into park, turning to you with a slightly more serious look in his eyes. “Ready for this?”

You exhaled, pretending to look unbothered, but your nerves were on edge again. “Yeah, sure. Let’s just get this over with.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Atta girl.” Sukuna said with a grin, slamming the car door a little too hard behind him. You rolled your eyes but followed him toward the building anyway, keeping a good two steps behind just on principle.

The evening air was cool, brushing against your arms where your jacket had slipped off one shoulder, but you didn’t bother fixing it. Your mind was too occupied, still buzzing with the sight of your flower inked into his skin. He kept it. He kept it.

You shook your head, chasing the thought away as you caught up to him. “You’re walking too fast, asshole,” you grumbled.

He threw a look over his shoulder, smirking. “Maybe you’re just slow.”

You flipped him off without a word, and he barked out a low laugh before pushing open the door to the empty shop space he’d rented for your “collaboration.”

Inside, the lights were already on, buzzing faintly overhead. The walls were bare, the scent of cleaning alcohol sharp in the air. A few folding tables were set up, each littered with sketchbooks, stencils, and supplies. It was clear he’d set it up in a rush, but somehow, it still felt organized — chaotic in a way that was him.

You hovered awkwardly in the doorway for a moment while he strode in like he owned the place. Typical.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms. “What’s the plan? You drag me all the way here to… stare at you?”

Sukuna dropped into one of the folding chairs, kicking his feet up onto the table with a lazy kind of swagger. “Not my fault if you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

You snorted. “Fuck you.”

He smirked again but didn’t push it this time. Instead, he grabbed a sketchbook from the table and flipped it open, sliding it toward you. “Figured we’d start with something small. One piece. Both our styles mashed together. Get a feel for it.”

You eyed the sketch suspiciously. It was a rough draft, clearly, but even in the messy lines, you could see flashes of his signature bold, street-style strokes intertwining with finer, more delicate details—details that felt suspiciously like your work.

For a second, your breath caught. Not because it was good (though it was), but because it looked natural. Like somehow, even though you hated each other, your styles… fit.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Whatever. I can work with this,” you said, refusing to show how impressed you actually were.

Sukuna caught the flicker of something on your face—something close to approval—and looked smug as hell about it.

“Thought you might,” he said casually.

You sat down stiffly across from him, dragging a pen closer so you could start refining the design. You didn’t bother with more banter. If you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure if something sarcastic or something way too honest would come out.

So you worked in silence, the scratch of pen on paper filling the space between you. Every now and then you caught him glancing at you, his gaze heavy but unreadable. You ignored it. Or tried to.

After a while, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, and said, “You know, you’re not nearly as annoying when you’re concentrating.”

You threw a pen at him without even looking up.

It bounced off his shoulder harmlessly, and he just laughed—a low, genuine sound that made your stomach do something you refused to acknowledge. You scowled down at the paper harder, your face burning.

Nope. No way.

You still hated him.

Definitely.

Probably.

…Maybe.

“Focus,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, and heard him snicker again across the table. You kept switching sketchbooks, refining his work while he made dark, bold lines that overshadowed your thinner ones. You stayed quiet at first, aware that a collab was a long and tedious process, taking time to make sure each party was happy with their contribution.

You sat there for as long as you could, tapping your pen against the table, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling under your skin. But the longer you looked at the sketch you were supposed to be “collaborating” on, the more irritated you became.

It was obvious — painfully obvious — that Sukuna was taking over the whole thing. Thick, heavy lines dominated the design. His bold strokes swallowed the parts you’d tried to add, twisting your delicate touches into something almost unrecognizable.

You set your pen down, jaw tightening.

“Are you even trying to make this a collab?” you snapped, pushing the sketchbook across the table toward him. “Or did you just drag me here so you could jerk yourself off with your own art?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, lounging back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “Maybe your style’s just too small to hold up against mine,” he said lazily, mouth twisting into a slow, mocking smirk.

That did it.

You shoved your chair back so hard it screeched against the floor, standing up so fast your knees banged against the table. “You know what? Screw this.” You grabbed your jacket, slinging it over one shoulder. “If you just wanted an audience, next time ask someone who actually gives a shit.”

You turned sharply on your heel, already stalking toward the door — but you didn’t get far.

Before you could even reach the handle, a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, fingers wrapping tight around your pulse.

You twisted around, furious — ready to tell him to get his fucking hands off you — but the look on his face stopped you cold.

Sukuna wasn’t smirking anymore.

He was standing right in front of you, chest heaving slightly, something dark and electric crackling in his red eyes.

His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly — not painful, but firm enough to pin you there, to make you feel him.

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” he muttered low, voice rough around the edges.

And then, without another second of warning —

He kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was vicious.

His mouth crashed against yours like a punch, all teeth and anger and heat. He kissed you like he hated you — like he wanted to tear the breath out of your lungs — and maybe he did, maybe you hated him just as much. Your hands fisted in his shirt before you could think better of it, dragging him down to your level as you kissed him back with all the force you could muster.

His other hand slid up your spine, gripping the back of your neck, tilting your head so he could deepen the kiss, his fingers threading into your hair roughly. You felt the scrape of his teeth against your lower lip, and it sent a violent shiver through you, snapping something inside your chest wide open.

You shoved him back a little, gasping for air — but he just chased after you, slamming you against the wall with a thud that rattled the frames hanging nearby.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he growled against your mouth.

You bit his lip in retaliation, hard enough to make him grunt, and he only grinned against you, the bastard.

“Then stop chasing me,” you spat, breathless.

“Make me,” he snarled.

And you did.

You dragged him down by the collar again, yanking him into another bruising kiss, your teeth clashing, the anger bleeding into something hotter, sharper, more dangerous.

Sukuna kissed like he fought — all reckless momentum, all wild heat, like he wanted to tear you apart just to put you back together again. And you gave it right back, nails scratching against the back of his neck, tugging at his stupid pink hair, refusing to let him win.

The world spun dizzy around you — the shop, the sketches, the tension that had been simmering between you for months. All of it collided and exploded in that furious, desperate kiss.

By the time you finally broke apart, you were both panting, flushed, glaring at each other like you were about to start throwing punches — or tear each other’s clothes off.

Sukuna’s eyes dropped to your mouth, still red from his kisses, and a dangerous, half-crazed smile curled at the corner of his lips.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and glared at him.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you hissed.

“Sure it doesn’t,” he said, smirking like he knew better.

The space between you crackled, charged, ready to ignite again at the slightest touch.

And you hated him.

You hated him.

”Fuck you. You’re such an asshole.”

”Then why didn’t you push me away?”

”Oh, shut up!”

And you ended up kissing him again.

—

taglist - @beabamboo @snapcracklen @fushigurooozzz

[paramortality]

Ship Sleep Dynamics

Tagged by the GORGEOUS and wonderful @redheadsramblings !! Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about Laird as always luv. And honestly what a BEAUTIFUL excuse to repost this stunning and fitting artwork by @svanha !! (Look at how Laird looks at Emm guys, that is the LOVE of his LIFE.)

Laird × Emmrich

How often do they sleep together?

At first, they didn't. Laird was very new to relationships with the mindset of a skittish cat. But fighting two dragons, Weisshaupt, and Elgar'Nan getting into his head at Arlathan, he finally caved for one night. He'd never slept so well in his life. But then he tried to be tough about it and didn't want to "push his luck" (like he even could) and they didn't share a bed again until after he escaped the Fade Prison. Both have refused to sleep separately since. If Emmrich is in the infirmary, Laird will deadass sleep on the floor beside him until he's better (despite many protests).

Where do they sleep?

Emmrich laid on that green sofa once and said, out loud mind you, "oh certainly NOT." They've slept in Emmrich's room ever since. Emmrich had contented himself with a book nook on the upper floor of the lighthouse laboratory, and it seemed to mysteriously shift to a more accommodating size once Laird slept in it with him once or twice. Back home, they share a much more plush and sizeable bed in Emmrich's flat.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Both of them have bedtime routines that could make Narcissus do a double take. They usually share a bath unless Laird needs a moment to himself, then they reconvene after. The shared baths often come with the package deal of shoulder and foot rubs, snuggles, and cheesy silliness amongst each other in giggly whispers and bubble sculpting. And ofc comfortable silences.

Naturally, Emmrich has his collection of salves and lotions. Laird has a vast menagerie of beard oils, tattoo lotions, and salves that might one day fully heal away his top surgery scars and stretch marks (or so he hopes, despite Emmrich's constant reassurance and worship of them exactly as they are).

What do they wear to sleep?

We all know Emmrich has his gowns, though he does occasionally enjoy some silkier jewel tone pyjamas. Since Laird started sharing his bed, however, he's opted to omit wearing anything altogether some nights. It's one part sexy reasons, three parts "Laird is warm as a fucking rage demon in a human costume."

Laird hasn't acknowledged the concept of sleeping with a shirt on since getting top surgery. He also enjoys lounging in silky tops or something more of a hemp or linen feel, but when he falls into bed it doesn't come with him. Below the waist is another story, however. That's not an area he's typically having exposed. Unless Emmrich has charmed him out of them in an evening of passsion, Laird can usually be found vibing in a pair of black, sage green, or cranberry coloured harem pants. Though the warmer flannel jammy pants may make an appearance in the cooler months.

Do they cuddle?

Cuddling was a learning process for Laird. Largely because he was afraid he'd crush Emmrich like a baby bird. For the longest time, his weight insecurity would only allow him to be the little spoon, back to chest, side only. He'd panic any time he'd rolled onto Emmrich's arm or even slightly atop him or thrown a leg over him. It took forever for Emmrich to coax him into trusting he's not as fragile– nor that Laird is as heavy– as he fears.

It only took hearing Emmrich's heartbeat once for Laird to discover his favourite place on earth.

Now Laird will nest himself over Emmrich's thigh and zonk right out, head on his chest or back. On nights when Emmrich's the one in need of comfort, Laird is nothing short of the finest body pillow in all of Thedas. And nothing feels safer than the arms of a strong, husky man around him and forehead kisses that promise nothing can pry them apart and no darkness can intrude past his hold.

What are their preferred sleep positions?

Emmrich is quite often a back or side sleeper. He used to have a second pillow he insists wasn't for holding and was merely for shoulder comfort. But that pillow has conveniently been out of service since an actual cuddle bear has lumbered into his sheets.

Laird is a solid stomach sleeper. He'll turn on his side if he must, and he can fairly easily fall asleep on his back if Emmrich is atop him, but he almost always sleeps in that "rotisserie chicken" pose one might find corgis flopped in. (Google it trust me my childhood dog was a corgi it's the cutest pose ever)

How easy do they fall asleep?

Laird used to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. But he hasn't been able to do that since Weisshaupt. It usually takes him about an hour now, even with sleep aids and the comfort of His Person™ in bed with him. Though, interestingly, he's clocked out within minutes after the scant few times he's topped for certain activities...

Emmrich, for all his routine and meditation, also tends to take a while to follow asleep. The common case is he and Laird share idle chatter and pillow talk, until which he falls asleep midsentence and leaves his darling stifling giggles. The sound of him trailing off never stops being funny, really.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Not particularly! Unless certain criteria are met, anyways. If it's hot, Laird will roll like a gas station hot dog seeking cold patches of bedding throughout the night. Emmrich in that situation tends to simply dangle an arm or leg off the bed.

Unfortunately, both of them suffer from thanataphobia. (because why have ONE Necromancer afraid of dying when you can have TWO and make them fall in love???) And sometimes when it's been plaguing them either by dream or waking hours, both get a little restless until they find each other in their sleep again. Then they settle down and fall back into a restful sleep.

Do they snore?

Thankfully no. Laird only ever snores if he's sick. In good health, however, Emmrich has occasionally had to put a hand on his side or back to feel for movement because Laird breaths a little TOO quietly in his sleep.

Emmrich's snores are more akin to idle sighs. Which is fortunate because Laird was known once to threaten to roll Davrin out of the tent as "forest fodder" for snoring obnoxiously during one particularly overstimulating night camping in Arlathan.

Who hogs the blanket?

In the beginning, both were guilty purely out of not being accustomed to sharing a blanket. Laird is largely at fault now, as he tends to "nest" in his sleep if Emmrich has rolled away.

What do they dream about?

Emmrich has borderline mastered Lucid dreaming over the years. Perusing the Fade and odd conversations with spirits. But nightmares do occasionally get in the way.

Laird, unfortunately, almost always has nightmares. And it's been that way since he can remember. More often than not, he forgets what they're about. The ones he does recall though typically involve his exile, losing Emmrich, or the horde of ghouls in Weisshaupt and Arlathan.

How easily do they wake up?

Imagine trying to wake up a dead person. Without magic or corpse whispering. Congratulations. You've got Laird. He's a very hard sleeper. While Emmrich is much gentler in his approach, Varric wasn't above hitting him with a pillow or unoccupied boot when they were on the road. Even during nightmares, he's nigh impossible to shake, scream, or smack awake.

Emmrich sleeps deeply, but can still wake at faint off noises or sudden changes in ambient brightness (like opening the curtains and the sun in his face). Too much movement can jar him, as well. It makes sharing a bed with Laird in the summer without proper room-cooling enchantments a travesty.

How awake they are afterwards?

While on the hazier end of things, Emmrich is often of the bright eyed and bushy tailed persuasion, all things considered. Give him a minute to get his morning tea and wash his face and he'll usually be chipper and relatively cognizant within the hour!

To watch Laird wake up is like watching a bear come out of hibernation. Mohawk skewed in every incorrect direction, beard matted down and cowlicked, bleary eyed, has not discovered language, and only knowing the phrases "hrnggh," "grmmrrrrh," and "nnyh?" Typically, Laird requires 1-2 business hours and some heavily concentrated espresso to become a functional, passable-as-living member of society. Once he finds a shirt, anyways. In a pinch, however, his daily brain reboot can be prodded to life a little faster if Emmrich's feeling a little frisky or you tempt him with his favourite breakfast items: either a hot pepper bagel or strawberry waffle.

Heheeheheheheehehehe this one was fun! Thanks for the tag!

Let's see... I nominate (with no pressure as always!)

@sofiemystique @yappacadaver (I would kill to hear Yumi's pov on some of these omg) @basic-x-witch @deny-the-issue @holdingontojupiter @theyearningghoul @ollypopwrites aaaand you! 🫵

Edit: @avoskorm I tagged you too but my keyboard decided to make a fool of me and just add an extra a to the dramatic and. Rude!

[trickstersaint]

do you have any beginners advice for poetry? Also, what style of poem do you use?

TRICKSTERSAINT'S BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO POETRY:

read! find poems that you like, poems that you don't like, and take the time to notice the things that you like or dislike about them. maybe take some time to annotate a few. spend some time with the work that you'd like to emulate. we learn to write by reading, and that's as true of poetry as it is of fiction or scientific papers or children's books.

write! i am constantly saying this, but writing is not a talent handed down by god: it is a skill that you learn, and hone, and improve. write things that are silly, or trite, or derivative, or straight up bad: every piece of practice that you get is practice, and it's going to help you improve in the future. it's alright to not be writing masterpieces every time. you're only going to be able to make things you're happy with if you let yourself create things that you aren't happy with, as well.

use pen and paper! there's something scientific about the way that your brain processes things when you're writing them by hand (the longer physical task gives your brain more time to process things as you write/hand writing makes different connections in your brain) but i am not going to claim to be an expert on those things. what i can tell you is that i generally have an easier time with poetry when i'm writing on paper. plus it's more romantic... grounding... you get to sit around looking hot and mysterious writing in a notebook...

write down literally everything. my notes app is full of poetry snippets, and most of it never gets used, but every so often i get to revisit an idea and work a full poem out of it. save yourself the struggle of finding something to write about later by creating a little collection of your inspirations.

write the same poem over and over! there's only so many things to write about, and sometimes you hit a topic that you want to explore in a multitude of ways (or one that you can't decide on an approach to). it's okay to write five different versions of the same poem. again, practice is practice, and reworking the same poem is a great way to identify some of the techniques that you're using in your own work.

try different styles! experiment with line length, rhyme structures, enjambment. try a prose poem. get rid of all the punctuation. give concrete poetry a go. there's tons of things to explore, and you never know what you might end up loving. (i think the form i write in is best described as free verse!)

rhyming poetry is, most times, harder. i know it seems like the default because of the poems that most of us have to read in school, but what they don't tell you about shakespeare and the romantic poets and all those guys is that they were REALLY skilled at wordplay and it takes a lot of skill to find the right words and structures to make a rhyme work without making it sound trite. your poems don't have to rhyme if you don't want them to <3

poetry, in my experience, works better on implication. when you overexplain things, it prevents the audience from drawing connections for themselves. same principle as explaining a joke; it loses its punch if you don't let someone think about it for themself. practice leaving spaces in your work, rather than trying to fill in any possible confusion.

find a method of editing that works for you! another bonus of using pen and paper to me is that it's MUCH easier visually to edit things when they're in a notebook. crossing things out, drawing arrows to put lines in different places, scribbling a certain line at the top of the page so i don't lose it later, all of that works better for me because i have a more visual grasp on the situation. if you find it easier to do it some other way, though, find what works for you!

be gentle with yourself. non-negotiable. beating yourself up isn't helpful. treat yourself with the same grace as you would someone else; remember the difference between constructive and non-constructive criticism. you gotta be nice to yourself about things or you're going to kill the love and hope that you have for this new skill that you're tending to before it grows big enough to defend itself.

share! or don't! put yourself out there according to your comfort level, especially at the beginning. people who care about you will be gentle with you if you're not feeling confident. and if you're really looking to improve, comments from other people are going to be really valuable!

FINAL ADVICE. do whatever the fuck you want. poetry is a space of endless possibility and the best way to create things that you are going to love is by doing it YOUR way. you don't have to do anything you don't want to. you don't have to use any specific style, have to follow any specific forms, have to go with any specific topic. you don't have to cultivate a particular style. write seventeen sonnets about a speculative technological future and then a two-line poem about a bird you saw the other day. follow whatever sparks joy for you. it's your poetry and you get to make what you want of it <3 being a beginner just means that you have room and room and room to explore and learn and grow <3

[stlllle]

Cho hyunju with a reader who has ptsd after the games 💔💔 thanks !!!

---

Healing in Pieces

[ Cho Hyun-ju x Reader with PTSD after the Games]

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks, anxiety, trauma, emotional distress, but with lots of comfort and fluff at the end.

---

Author’s Note:

First of all: thank you SO much for the request! 🖤 This theme really touched me and I tried my best to approach it with care and sensitivity.

However, if at any point I misrepresented PTSD or any trauma-related symptoms, I deeply apologize. This is purely fictional and written with love and respect for anyone going through mental health struggles.

Also… as always: my requests are open! Feel free to send me anything you’d like me to write 🫶

Masterlist –[link]

---

You weren’t the same person anymore.

That was obvious.

That was cruel.

That hurt.

Ever since the games ended… every step outside felt like an emotional minefield. Loud noises made you flinch. People running on the streets made you want to curl up in a corner. Sometimes, the metallic smell in the air made you throw up.

You were trapped between two realities: the now… and there.

Hyun-ju was the first one to notice.

Even after everything she went through, even with her own scars, she was always… present. Always watching you like she needed to catch you before you shattered completely.

The first night she stayed at your place was when you had a full-blown panic attack in the bathroom.

You had just finished showering… but suddenly, the memories of blood, cold floors, and screaming voices hit you like a wave.

You collapsed to the ground, hugging your knees, heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst.

When she forced the door open—almost breaking the lock—she found you shaking, crying, scratching your own arms.

— “Hey… hey, breathe… look at me…” — her voice trembled, but she kept trying to sound firm. — “You’re with me now… You’re safe…”

She hugged you right there, with your body still wet from the shower, her fully clothed, on the cold bathroom floor.

She stayed until you stopped trembling. Until your sobs turned into quiet whimpers. Until the panic turned into exhaustion.

---

After that, she practically moved in with you.

Bringing blankets, pre-cooked meals (even though she sucked at cooking), silly movies to distract your mind…

She left sticky notes all around your house:

“If you wake up scared, call me!”

“If you start shaking, text me. Even if it’s 3am.”

“Don’t forget: You’re alive. And I’m here.”

---

The nights were the worst.

You’d wake up screaming, sweating, your chest hurting…

And she would always, ALWAYS, come to you. Even with messy hair, oversized shirts, sleepy eyes… she would crawl into bed and hold you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

— “Shhh… I know it’s horrible… I know…” — she’d whisper, running her fingers through your hair. — “But you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

Sometimes, she’d ramble about random stuff just to pull you back from the spiral:

— “You know… I still haven’t taken you to that new burger place… we should go… or anywhere you want… just to get out for a bit, you know?”

She’d pretend it was casual talk… but you knew it was her silent way of begging you… to stay alive.

---

One day, you snapped.

— “Why are you still here, Hyun-ju?! Why do you insist? I’m a mess! A burden! You don’t deserve this…”

She went quiet for a few seconds. Then she crossed her arms and huffed, her usual stubborn self shining through.

— “First: shut up. Second: shut up again. Third: do you really think I’m gonna leave after everything we’ve been through?!”

She took a deep breath, her eyes filled with both frustration and care.

— “I saw you almost die… I saw you fight like hell to survive that nightmare… I saw how strong you are, even when you don’t believe it. So if you think I’m walking out that door and abandoning you… forget it. Not happening.”

She pulled you into a hug so tight it knocked the air out of your lungs for a second.

— “Hate me… yell at me… push me away… but I’m staying… because I like you, idiot.”

---

From that day on… you started trying a little harder.

And on the bad nights… she was still there.

Dragging you back into bed.

Making you promise to breathe.

Whispering that she loved you… even if you still couldn’t believe it.

Because if there was one thing Hyun-ju did best…

It was loving you in pieces.

Even when you felt broken…

She saw you as whole.

---

[xoxochb]

⸻ stuffed plushies 🧺⋆˚࿔

pairing: jason grace x plushie lover! reader 💿 ‧₊˚ — everything I want by beabadoobee <33

it was the first time you’ve ever brought a boy into your cabin, let alone your boyfriend.

your relationship was still fairly fresh, though, not any more than a month ago had jason grace confessed his life to you with a bouquet of pink tulips and cheeks to match that same color.

and this time that you had been dating was a blissful as ever. jason was undeniably the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for. how sweet and respectful he was.

but this didn’t exempt you of the worries when he would be sleeping over at your cabin for the first time. not only was he not allowed to do so but you also had an abundance of plushies sitting on your bed that you avidly slept with every night.

it was silly, really. because jason was the nicest person you knew so even if he thought it was utterly ridiculous that you still slept with stuffies he wouldn’t say it out loud.

you toy around with the ear of your pink bunny plush. it sits on your lap contently as you talk on and on about your current read. it was a book both you and jason mutually read at the same time to enjoy stimulating conversations about once finished. and to say you were stimulated was an understatement.

unbeknownst to you, as you ramble, jason watches fondly as you hold your stuffed animal with such care as if it was an infant. it was endearing. the first thing he had noticed upon entering your cabin was how many of them you had. and all kinds of things too.

animals, sea creatures, foods, fantastical creatures, possibly anything you could never think of, really— and you had tons of them.

his bright blue eyes find themselves dropping to the bunny on your lap more often than he’d care to admit. and as much as he’d love to make eye contact while you talk and talk and talk, he couldn’t help but smile at your love for inanimate plushies.

“… I thought it was really funny when he came into her room through the fireplace. it was both genius and creepy. but he makes it work. and I think—” you pause, noticing jason was not looking at you but your bunny instead. “jase.”

his eyes meet yours quickly with a bashful look. “hmm?”

“were you listening?” subconsciously, you clutch your bunny closer to your belly. was he silently judging you? oh gods, what if he thinks you’re totally weird! what if he breaks up with you because you still sleep with children’s toys!

“of course. you were talking about the fireplace scene.”

you furrow your brows, remaining awfully silent. “oh.”

jason inhales, dropping his gaze to your bunny once again. “is that one your favorite?”

oh no. he hates you. he so thinks you’re a mega weirdo!!

“yes…”

he nods attentively. “do you have a yellow one?”

biting your lip, you reach behind you and hand him your yellow bunny. he smiles, holding it up.

“this one is my favorite.”

“how come?”

he shrugs, setting it on his lap similar to you. “I like yellow.”

“you can… have it if you want.” your hands go back to the long pink ears, fiddling. “the bunny, i mean.”

“really?!” jason’s face lights up like an excited puppy. you supposed he might’ve had a tail wagging even.

“sure.”

“thank you!” he reaches over and presses a kiss to your warm cheek swiftly.

you pull your knees up to your chest, yet ever so cautious of your bunny. “you don’t think it’s… weird? that I still collect them?”

“of course not.” jason intertwines one of your hands with his, rubbing your knuckles. “I think it’s nice. that you’re passionate about something.”

“really?”

“yes really.”

a smile forms on your lips. “thank you for not thinking I’m a weirdo.”

“you’re welcome.” he returns your expression. “now, you were saying about the fireplace?”

— request here !!

[whisperedmeg]

any headcanons for soft animal spence? would love to know!!!

oh my gosh yes, literally I have SOOO many. not sure if you saw this ask where I shared a few (okay more like a lot lol) but here are even more because I truly have an endless list living in my brain/google docs

spencer is obSESSED with reader wearing his clothes. ever since giving her his tshirt to sleep in on that first night they spent together, he was hooked. whenever she puts on pajamas that AREN’T his clothes, he literally gets pouty. and he has a veryyyy hard time keeping his hands off of her when he sees her in nothing but one of his button downs.

he talks in his sleep. usually non-sensical, silly things. but sometimes he’ll say something more vulnerable, like “don’t leave” or “love you” and it always makes reader melt/cry/cuddle him closer.

spencer is, as we all know, not a very touchy person, and he also isn’t the biggest fan of PDA. but he can’t help but always be touching reader in some small way - his hand on the small of her back, fingers intertwined or just brushing hers every few steps as they walk, etc.

he changes up his nightly tea selection based on reader’s mood. bad day at work? he makes her something bright and happy, like lemon or hibiscus. anxious or exhausted? chamomile or lavender to calm her down. he’s constantly buying new varieties to try (even though he himself prefers coffee).

they take baths together sometimes. not inherently sexual — just for comfort, her back against his chest. it becomes a sort of decompression ritual after he gets home from hard cases.

reader buys spencer those sticky glow in the dark stars kids put on their bedroom ceilings. it was meant to be a joke/gag gift, but spencer thinks it’s the most thoughtful gesture because it reminds him of their first date at the planetarium, so he insists on actually putting them up on the ceiling after she moves in.

I could go on for dayssss about them but I’ll stop here. I’m planning to share more once the series is over tho!

soft animal series masterlist

[thatblueduck]

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE FIRST TWO EPISODES, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Okay, so I’ve been able to watch the first two episodes and I’d just like to say:

What the actual fuck happened to Dae-ho. Like, why the fuck did the people that said he was faking being a Marine turn out to be right, what the hell was the reason for that? Not to mention the complete destruction of his character and I absolutely hate how he died, like what was that. He was done so dirty oh my god, and I’m not even saying that bc he’s one of my favorites, I’m saying that bc he was quite literally done extremely dirty.

Why was GI-HUN of all people the one to kill him? No like actually, I thought he’d have this “you’re not that kind of guy, mister” moment and let him go but nope screw that I guess! Seriously, they completely destroyed the bond between the team that was formed last season for the sake of this?

Okay, one of the only things I’m really liking so far is how zesty Nam-gyu is lol, he’s so silly. “Just a one-night stand, so to speak” like okay zesty fest 😭. However, I’ve seen so many people switching up on Thangyu like, I’m sorry have we forgotten basic fucking media literacy? A little something called context clues, or at least having a brain? Nam-gyu clearly cared about Thanos, like more than half of his dialogue was just yapping about Thanos or acting just like him, like you cannot seriously look at the source material and tell me, “Yeah he didn’t care about Thanos at all” like are we deadass. Please tell me there’s still some of us that have basic media literacy, it’s actually pissing me off how these people only see the surface level and don’t bother to dig any deeper.

NOW WHY THE FUCK DID FUCKING MYUNG-GI KILL MY QUEEN HYUN-JU? YOU KILLED ONE OF THE PEOPLE PROTECTING THE PERSON YOU SAID YOU’D PROTECT, DUMBASS. Oh my god, I knew I was always right to hate Myung-gi, but I didn’t expect him to kill one of the best characters. Unless this guy gets some serious character development I’m not gonna like him. Also idk why, but it’s pissing me off that Hyun-ju didn’t look behind her. She was in the army, she’d know not to leave her back exposed.

Yong-sik…oh, he was never one of my favorites, but why the hell was he willing to kill Jun-hee? What we’ve learned about him so far is that he’d never hurt anyone, especially not a pregnant woman/mother. But oh what do we have here, more character annihilation! Yeah I deadass started crying, he didn’t deserve to go like that.

Wasn’t gonna add this note, but Min-su taking the drugs, hallucinating Se-mi, & killing Seon-nyeo was not on my bingo card holy shit. I love Min-su, but it’s kinda weird seeing what I thought would happen to Nam-gyu (ex: hallucinations) happen to Min-su instead. Feel bad for Seon-nyeo though, she was equally as interesting to watch as she was annoying.

Other than Nam-gyu, I do like the side plots with No-eul & Gyeong-seok and Jun-ho finding the island going on, they’re actually interesting to watch compared to the tragedies going on in the games.

I’ve seen all over my social medias how absolutely no one liked season 3 and I’m kinda scared to watch the rest of the season now, but I waited six months for this so I’ll carry on.

Dae-ho & Hyun-ju gone in the first two episodes, my boy Nam-gyu soon to leave, I’m gonna need a lot more tissues ☹️

Props to the actors btw, they’re all doing phenomenal jobs, like genuinely I love them all. No hate to any of them, I love them all 😊 It’s just, the writing… Also what is up with the CGI baby, I’m sorry, you couldn’t have gotten a real one like so many other shows do 😭

Really hoping Player 100 doesn’t make it to the end, because I’d actually crash tf out if he lives longer than literally any of the more deserving characters. Manifesting he starts choking bc he’s too old to exist next episode.

[anotherhomelanderblog]

My sketch. Appreciate it or not I don't know.😅

You call him at 2 am and he wakes up, answering the call he hears sirens in the background. Freaks out and jumps up, ready to fly naked to your rescue. You reassure him that it's not for you and somewhere in your house smoke and the fire department kicked you all out. Innocently wondering if you and your cat Peaches (any name) can sleep in his room in Voight.

How's that sound?

Surely the Homelander will be glad to have you there and insist that he drive you, because what cab at this hour. It's all perverts out there! And we'll add a cat to make life a little bit more fun and he'll have to share his attention with this hairball😂.

Oh, he'd love to have you stay the night in his penthouse. And hey, if your cat coming too is the price, he'll suffer it - though don't expect Peaches to be allowed to sleep on the bed with you both.

He'd want to fly you over himself, so maybe you'll have to convince him to put on a dressing gown, if he has one of those. Expect his hair to still be styled back. Do not question why he was in such a rush he couldn't possibly get dressed, but not so much of a rush he couldn't make his hair presentable. Also expect headlines tomorrow.

Oh, and expect to hear by the end of the next day that the fire was actually worse than first thought, that the firefighters missed something crucial, and your entire apartment complex has burnt down. Lucky you and Peaches were safe with him, huh? Guess you'll have to stay a little longer now!

And what? All your treasured possessions are gone now. Pffft! He's rich enough to replace your entire wardrobe and anything else you might be missing. Although he does sort of get the sentimental value of personal items (what with him having a few secret personal items no one else knows about too), it's not like any of them could hold a handle to what you've gained from this series of events. Namely: living with him, and all the benefits that can bring you.

Plus, perhaps one particularly important item you've mentioned to him in passing before has miraculously survived the fire. No, he has absolutely no idea how this one particular item survived totally unscathed while everything else was charred to a crisp. How did the fire services know to post it to his address at Vought tower? Maybe you should be a little more grateful and stop asking such paranoid questions, silly!

Peaches will grow on him. You'll eventually find him sitting on the sofa while the TV is on, Peaches on his lap, as he grumbles to the cat about some reporting about him he deems unfair. Eventually, too, you'll notice you've started getting up to make the both of you breakfast unthinkingly... and you always have dinner for him ready too... and he's let you make a few homely changes to the otherwise bleak decor of the place... and really, when you think about it, how much time do you even spend away from the penthouse without him anymore?

🤭