#WE CAN HAVE 500 THREADS

[deoidesign]

Thinks about my next series again... I drew the icon for it!

I'm planning to have it launched within a year! I'm hoping for summer 2025. I want to make a prelaunch page before Time and Time Again ends so people can subscribe if they're interested, but I'm worried the series return would be too early...

[a-wild-things-rambles]

hometown hypocrisy

and the bloods beating down in the city tonight and no-one will ever sympathize with our plight try to get up, but we just fall down trying to escape this damn hometown

and we got fires burning in our souls and the scars to prove it, what do you know but the rains putting us out drowning our sparks and our shouts

and the fogs setting in rain against my skin and the sky's beating me down wandering my hometown and the roads gotten twisted the old life's gone, i missed it guess it is true, you can never go home again

and the bloods beating down in the city tonight and no-one will ever sympathize with our plight try to get up, but we just fall down trying to escape this damn hometown

and blood seeping through our clothes violence begets violence, don't ya know but these fists are my hometown pride gritted teeth and bloodshot eyes

and the fogs setting in rain against my skin and the sky's beating me down wandering my hometown and the roads gotten twisted the old life's gone, i missed it guess it is true, you can never go home again

'and the bloods beating down' is the 2nd chorus/prechorus [look i changed the structure but im not editing my analysis i dont want it to get longer]

'and the fogs setting in' is the [main]chorus [planned to use a diffrent tone to musicaly distinguish it from teh verses and pre/2nd chorus][is in italics]

and 'we got fires' is teh 1st verse and 'blood seeping thru our clothes' is the second

NOTE: should be spoken or sung for optimal beat with contractions, but for readability has been mostly uncontracted. also idk how to spell what do you know contracted right.

the chorus is much later in the singers life than the pre chorus & the two verses, the hypocrisy is that the singer wants to both escape and go back to his hometown.

the younger singer always uses plural, to symbolize community, until 'these fists are my hometown pride' almost at the end. he refutes the cycle of violence by owning his violence as part of himself- his link to his hometown.

in addition, he has become the active perpetrator of violence, [previous references were 'we all fall down' [something else to him] and 'we got the scars to prove it' which is implied to be violence perpetrated unknowingly to each other because of 'fires burning in our souls'- when they get close, they hurt each other unintentionally] he now links his sense of self to violence, and thus when he loses his ability to do violence, he loses his self, and his link to his hometown, becoming the older singer

but by doing this he also will inevitably refute his hometown, by linking it intrinsically to violence, becoming the older singer who sings the chorus when he can no longer have that link to his self or his hometown because he can no longer do violence [his inability shown by him being 'beaten down' by the rain/oppressive atmosphere], i did want to expand on this, writing more verses to show the fall and how he ended up as the chorus person but it didnt work. heres the scrapped third verse

but soon those fists turned weak what do you know? you aint at your peak stress and violence aint good for your heart and you find that your bodys now falling apart

it can also be seen as by growing up to become a perpetrator and someone with power, he is now distant from his people and community, the solidarity is formed from their shared victimhood so when he steps out of that/rejects it, he loses the community [also becoming part of the violent cycle means getting rejected] [also the chorus says 'twisted road' we dont know what happened to make him fall, thats up to the readers interpretation] [transmasc journey of realizing your masculinity then becoming ostracised][or disability]

"guess its true, you can never go home again" is the only exception to the rhyming scheme, and it gives it emphasis, it was more noticeable before the chorus was squished together [previously each half line was its own line until 'guess its true'] fuck it it can take up space on yalls dashboards its getting split again

'bloodshot eyes' can be interpreted many different ways, from crying to injury to rage, each suggesting different meanings and affecting the text in diffrent ways

[gallifreyborn]

( i wrote up about my post-time war timeline for romana, so like/interact with this if you'd like a starter from it while i get to replies :) )

[generalsmemories]

The general's hair

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "If requests are open, can I request Reader tugging Jing Yuan's hair to keep him from dozing or just wanted him to pay attention? You can choose the "severity" of the tug =DD" requested by anonymous

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, suggestive scenes (not nsfw, but you can tell it's hinting at it lmfao), humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: dear lord we almost hit 500 jing yuan lovers. as he deserves, truly. thank you all for liking my two works so far!! here's another one while i still work on the lenghty angst fic of mine hehe. p.s please don't question my titles, i am very much terrible at them-

One of Jing Yuan's striking features is his voluminous hair that adorns his head like a lion's mane. Tied into a high half ponytail while the rest of his locks flow freely down to his shoulders. It's eye catching for sure, with a red ribbon securing the ponytail in place, it's hard to not turn one's head when he takes a walk outside of the divine seat to escape his duties. 

You're well aware of how tempting his hair is to touch everyone. It's the one thing you always reach for whenever you're bored after all.

The first thing you always do whenever he's fresh out of a shower is brush it out while running your fingers through it, or make sure every drop of soap reaches every strand when you take a bath together. A pastime activity Jing Yuan adores doing with you, almost sounding like he's purring in delight whenever you take some extra time to massage his scalp while you wash his hair.

It's also the first thing you would always grab onto to ground yourself when Jing Yuan wants to show his love for you more intimately and passionately. Your primary instinct to pull his strands while trying to get him so much closer to you, a breathless plea for him leaving your lips every now and then. Your husband takes great pleasure from this, merely chuckling while leaning down to press his lips to your ears. Gently telling you to breathe while pressing himself closer to your own sweaty body. During these moments his hair cascades down the side of his face, making him seem a lot more ethereal than usual. And while you can hardly breathe from the sensory overload you always somehow manage to slide your fingers from his lips to thread through his hair with a wry smile, whispering how beautiful he is.

His hair has unfortunately for him recently become the thing you have pulled whenever you notice him start to doze around whether that be in meetings or in general. It was initially something you had done out of desperation since no matter how many times you told him to listen, your husband would already nod off a few minutes after promising you that he wouldn't. Whenever you had complained he has joked that your voice was too soothing to listen to regarding reports that he could fall asleep to it.

So you tried to let one of the cloud knights or Qingzu deliver the reports to thwart that, but then he would downright not pay any attention at all. Which would make some meetings run longer than normal.

God forbid if Fu Xuan even tried to attempt to deliver a report, lest she wanted to get poked fun at or have more people fall asleep other than the general.

So while you were trying yet again to give a report for the general, you were suddenly struck with the memory of one of the many nights you had spent together. The nights where the general would look so much more awake whenever you pulled at his hair from desperation.

… Hey if it worked there, it should have some sort of effect now too, right?

So without looking too suspicious, you went behind the seat. When you passed Jing Yuan's laid back form, your available hand that was not holding the papers reached out to the same high ponytail you had just tied a few hours before and pulled with enough strength that made his head jerk away from his resting hand.

A surprised moan suddenly rang out throughout the Divine Foresight.

And you thanked the Aeons that the only ones present at that moment were the same guards stationed at the very entrance and Qingzu, who only gave you a deadpanned look.

But when Jing Yuan turned to look at you, more awake than he had ever been in any morning and eyes filled with confusion, you were sure you had hit the jackpot to make every meeting go faster. 

Good news for you and everyone else, not so good news for Jing Yuan though.

“The second matter of the day is the replacement of the newly appointed Cloud Knights who will be transferred to the Luofu from another fleet…”

“Ouch- Dear, pull my hair any harsher than that and I’m afraid you won’t have any strands to brush out in the near future,” Jing Yuan whines when your hand lets go of his high ponytail when he has successfully sobered up from his nth impromptu nap of the day.

You merely glance over at him with a raised eyebrow before walking away, “General, please be aware that you have a meeting with Lady Fu Xuan in a couple of minutes and these are just the briefings of what she will tell you personally,” you respond back, Jing Yuan letting out a huff as he leans back into his seat, rubbing the spot you had just pulled a few minutes ago with knitted eyebrows.

“... Let alone something to grab later tonight-”

“Jing Yuan.”

[lilacxquartz]

JJK x Reader: What they would do for your birthday

included: sukuna, uraume, kenjaku & mahito

tags/themes: drabbles, fluff, slightly suggestive, slight body horror for mahito, 500-1000 words per character

ao3 link • masterlist • mdni

a/n: levelling up this month so why not a lil drabble post 💥 i’ll write one up for the other chars next time

Sukuna

You had been officially with Sukuna for about a year now and have lived together with him for about half of that duration.

Therefore, it was only a matter of time before you ended up spending your birthday with him.

Or so you thought.

Waking up, you were surprised to find the bed completely empty and utterly devoid of his presence. Instead, Uraume stood in the doorway with a neutral look on their face, entirely unphased by you being partially undressed with the covers only concealing half of your otherwise bare body.

It took you a while to adjust to their unwavering stare before you noticed that they were holding onto something.

At first, you couldn’t help but consider the possibility that perhaps Sukuna had arranged for a gift to be dispensed at their hands rather than to deliver it himself. However, the longer you both stared each other down, the less likely that seemed to be the case.

Stepping forward, Uraume snapped open a roll of measuring tape in their hands, the object making a tight whipping sound, “Your measurements, please.”

Blinking, you tried to process their request.

“It would be wise if you could cooperate with me,” they added, piling onto your strained silence.

“Hold on a sec,” you murmured, “let me just get dressed—“

“—I really don’t mind,” they replied stiffly, “nor do I care.”

“I care, a-alright?” you partially stammered, feeling your face warm up under their eyes. Curse Sukuna for requesting that you sleep unclothed. “Just step out for a moment. …Please?”

With a weary eye roll, Uraume complied with your request.

Quickly slipping into a tank top and a pair of underwear, you awkwardly cleared your throat a couple of times to signal that you were ready.

As they walked back inside, they swiftly manoeuvred around you, looping the measuring tape around your arms and waist with calculated precision as you stood there with slowly building discomfort.

“S-so… what’s this for?” you asked.

“For lord Sukuna,” they quietly replied while taking a step back, their eyes closing for a moment as though to make a mental note, “a request of his so that I can make some… adjustments.”

You nervously laughed in response in an attempt to lighten the mood, “You make it sound so ominous.”

Uraume however did not reciprocate, leaving you alone in the bedroom where you were left to gather what remained of your throughts for a good couple of hours. In that time, you chose to take it as easy as possible in fearful anticipation for what Sukuna might have had in store for you.

When the time finally arrived for him to make his grand appearance, you were sitting in bed half awake against the headboard, sleepily browsing your phone.

Sukuna’s footsteps were methodical as he approached you, holding onto what appeared to be neatly folded fabric. His pointed fingernails lightly threaded around the cloth, seeming careful not to tear through the material.

Warily, you sat up and steeled yourself, unsure as to what to expect all the while he extended his arms, offering you what you were certain to be a gift.

Before you could say anything however, he promptly cut you off with a disapproving tone, “You will refrain from getting sentimental at my offering. I’m doing this out of pure etiquette.”

You blinked at him with a confused arched brow as your mouth slightly hung ajar. Thinking nothing of it, you carefully unfolded the cloth, unfurling the creases and gently spreading out a robe similar to the one he often wore.

Unable to resist a smile, you couldn’t help but ask in a teasing tone, “Did you just give me a matching kimono? Are we really matching? That’s so adora—“

“—cease, the rags you otherwise wear are simply… unacceptable, that’s all,” he huffed in a curt response, seeming displeased with your remark. “This is more so to please me than it is for you to enjoy.”

Your smile continued to grow as his words went right over your head. No matter how much he would continue to deny it, he got you something personal—something purposefully commissioned for you to wear that matched what he had.

Attempting to further taunt him for being soft, you opened up your mouth to tempt the idea. However he quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked it towards him as a playful threat, his voice low and full of warning, “Don’t push your luck, brat. You’ll try this on and let me see how it sits on you.”

Stifling your mockery for now, you quietly obeyed his word without further question to which he released you to do so. You punched one arm at a time through the kimono while he helped you ease into it; his eyes fixated intently on how you wore it, silently judging how you adapted to wearing the cloth.

“Perfect,” he whispered under his breath, although the annoyance he felt prior was steadily returning the longer you stared at him with that irritating smile, “again, don’t mistake this gift as an act of kindness. I’m simply ensuring that you dress the way I’d prefer.”

“Sure,” you replied with a sarcastic undertone.

You couldn’t lie though, the material was perfectly soft against your skin. It felt like wearing weightless silk that both cooled yet somehow warmed your body.

And despite the coldness that he continued to deliver you with his pointed stare, there was a flicker of something else in the depth of his eyes. Perhaps it was care, no matter how much he denied being unable to feel such an emotion.

Or perhaps it was longing… or a subtler form of affection that you didn’t quite understand.

Whatever it was, the gift was a token of his claim towards you—for you to wear something he did too, to present to the world that you were in fact truly his.

Which in his eyes was the most meaningful gift that he could ever give.

Uraume

Your interactions with Uraume were always a hit or a miss, at least initially. Slowly, you grew to appreciate their company over the last couple of years and during more recent times, the pair of you had blossomed into a relationship.

Taking such a big step forward was a challenge for you both, but you did come to value the way they showed affection—no matter how subtle it always was.

Together, you lived on a property not too far from Sukuna’s residence. They were always available at a moment’s notice for his every whim and need, so often times you were left to spend the evenings alone and when your birthday finally rolled around, you didn’t expect anything less.

However, much to your surprise, Uraume seemingly got off much earlier than you had anticipated, arriving home just before it was too dark. Just before you were too tired to stay up for their company.

“You’re home early,” you said, greeting them with an acknowledging nod as they lingered in the doorway—both hands clasped onto a box that they held onto for dear life.

As they nodded back, you became curious about the contents and gently placed your phone onto the sofa to inspect what they were carrying. Carefully, you trailed off to where they stood, looking down ever so slightly while they figured out how to address you.

“…Today is a significant day for you,” they spoke up at last, their hands slowly extending as they attempted to part with the box.

You grabbed onto it, securing it at parallel ends.

“Correct,” you slowly nodded.

A moment of silence had passed before Uraume continued on with what they wanted to say, “As such, I have brought you something as a gift. Please open it carefully.”

Nodding once more, you heeded their request and placed the box onto the breakfast table, sitting on a chair and began to open up the box. Slowly, you unloaded a fine china tea set with a delicate touch.

“Is it acceptable?” Uraume asked.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you whispered, carefully inspecting each and every single fine detail, seemingly hand painted onto the dishes.

“I used to have a similar set, way back then,” they added, “although I couldn’t find the exact original.”

“You have incredible taste either way,” you complimented.

Uraume’s lips curled slightly, looking away for a second as you praised them,

“Is it… acceptable?” they asked you again, wondering if it was a gesture that you enjoyed or not. Uraume didn’t like it when things were sugarcoated, preferring a blunt or clear response instead.

“Yes,” you replied, “I love it.”

For Uraume to not only consider your interest but to also add a personal flair and also locate something potentially rare and nostalgic to them was an incredible gesture to you.

Seeming pleased, Uraume continued, “I could prepare you some tea then, if you’d like. You should be sleeping soon, so a cup might be nice.”

“I’d love that,” you replied.

“Then please sit tight,” they smiled, “allow me to treat you as you deserve.”

Kenjaku

Going to sleep at Kenjaku’s side and waking up alive the next day was a miraculous accomplishment each and every single time. It was such a relieving feeling, that you almost found yourself feeling thankful that on your birthday, you woke up feeling perfectly fine without a hint of unwelcome surprise.

No suspicious incisions, no missing organs—you were fine, all fine. Just fine…!

Yet as you left the bed and saw a note sitting at the doorstep to the entrance of the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.

You warily picked it up, scanning over the surface of the paper:

‘Happy birthday. Your gift awaits.’

As you then unfolded the note completely, you found that there was more written on the inside; an unnamed address without any context.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for whatever it was. You didn’t want to go anywhere unnecessary today, yet here he was, directing you somewhere potentially strange.

Chucking on your usual outfit—something lazy for running errands, you inputted the address into your GPS app and began to march towards the mysterious direction.

You supposed that you were lucky to be dating this man during the modern times, where you at least had modern technology to accurately guide you to wherever it was he directed you. Had this been just decades earlier with a paper map, you might have genuinely lost the single shred of sanity that you had left.

And upon reaching the address in question, you stepped inside what appeared to be an old antique shop. Inside stood an old man who trembled as he asked for your name, seeming equal parts nervous and relieved as he handed you a note with a key folded inside.

Sighing, you thanked the man and parted the key from the paper, reading more of his forsaken words:

‘Unlock compartment #51 and retrieve the contents.’

Doing just that, you asked the man if he knew what the note was talking about and with a strained nod, he led you to a small room filled to the brim with small drawers dotted with little key slots. You supposed that this antique shop somehow doubled as an old post office perhaps, given the worn state of the lockers.

You braced yourself for whatever you were about to find in the allocated compartment, frowning as you retrieved a small box wrapped in paper. Inside, was an even smaller box, although completely metal with a cap on it and to your lacking surprise, another note.

“Oh for the love of—“ you muttered as your eyes focused on the new piece of paper:

‘Return home and loudly close the door. Break the seal of the case and place it onto the counter.’

With an almost exasperated groan, you stormed back to your shared home and did exactly as he instructed—feeling genuinely unsure as to why you were torturing yourself on what appeared to be a scavenger hunt for what gave him the audacity to do such a thing.

You stared at the activated case with a narrowed gaze, half expecting the damned thing to blow up. It was surely not too promising as smoke seeped through the narrow ventilation slots and as a loud beeping noise played, but then you smelled something pleasant.

Kenjaku then materialised seemingly out of nowhere, jolting you with unanticipated surprise as he swooped in to disassemble the case, unveiling a small cake of some kind that he then took a bite out of, without offering you a single crumb.

“…Excuse me?” you asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“I haven’t had one of these for centuries,” he replied, his mouth slightly muffled as he chewed.

You continued to stare at him, “And why did you make me go through all of that?”

Initially he curiously hummed but then smiled upon finishing up the confection, “So that I could give you a gift that you wouldn’t forget. A pleasant memory.”

“I didn’t find it very pleasant…” you sulked.

Kenjaku simply continued to smile as he patted your head, messing up your hair in the process, “But it was definitely unforgettable, right?”

“I… I guess so?” you reluctantly supposed.

“Then, consider that to be my gift to you,” he replied, “a day of intrigue, but also enrichment.”

“T-thank you?” you replied in a state of quickly growing confusion; completely unsure of what was even happening.

Seeming satisfied, Kenjaku retreated from you as he slinked back into what was his study, “You’re welcome,” he sang before disappearing into the room.

All the while you could do nothing but simply stand there, confused yet also… somehow fulfilled?

Mahito

You weren’t sure how, but you managed to find yourself entangled in Mahito’s personal web. You weren’t sure as to why this strange cursed spirit seemed to spare you, but you were starting to wish that he hadn’t, given how often he popped into your own home.

You tried just about everything to keep him out, but he was just too damn determined. It was on a nightly basis that he made it into a routine; somehow breaching your barricaded doors and boarded up windows to routinely appear in your bedroom.

You could always tell when he was there, too.

Initially he gave you the creeps as he lingered in the shadows of your dark bedroom, but slowly he became something to simply just expect.

And with the all too familiar tapping of his knuckles against the wall, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed as he paid you yet another visit against your will.

Flashing on the lights, you bathed the once dark room in a blinding glow and there he was; stood idly up against your wall, waiting for you to notice him.

“Miss me?” he asked, leaning ever so slightly forward which caused his silver locks to sway.

You groaned into your pillow, turning away from him, mumbling something just coherent enough for him to parse, “I’m about to go to sleep. Go away.”

“Sleep? How boring~” he mocked in a jovial tone. “Especially on such a special day.”

You reluctantly acknowledged that it was indeed your birthday, choosing to push down the curiosity you had in mind with how on earth he managed to obtain such knowledge to begin with.

“Correct,” you begrudgingly replied, “so can my present be for you to leave me alone?”

Mahito simply laughed in response, a shrill and mocking sound escaping his lips. It always bothered you how expressive his features were yet how vacant his eyes seemed to be.

“Silly!” he exclaimed. “That would be rude of me, now wouldn’t it?”

“…The opposite, actually,” you mumbled.

Mahito pushed himself off of the wall and made his way to sit by your side while you were still in bed. He made a point of pulling off your blanket away from you and throwing the pillows off to the side—forcing you to whether you wanted to or not, to acknowledge his existence.

However, before you could react any further, his bare fingers brushed against your forehead with a strange, almost alien sensation that followed.

It felt like a headache of some sort but you couldn’t quite figure it out just yet.

Something was simply just… off.

Warily, both of your hands felt around your scalp, feeling something pointed and sharp spearing out of your head. In an attempt to get it off of you, you seemed to make the pain worse.

Such a realisation that he might have altered your body filled you with a deep sense of dread and that wasn’t a feeling you were particularly ready to accept.

“W-what did you just do…?” you asked with a trembling voice.

Mahito clapped his hands together in delight, seeming thoroughly amused at the sight before him. His eyes gleamed with pure excitement as he traced the air with a pointed finger, drawing an outline of your figure.

“Just a little something to get you into the party spirit,” he hinted with a sense of excitement that was just barely contained, “why not look into the mirror and see for yourself?”

Albeit reluctantly, you got out of bed and padded your way to the standing floor mirror that you had in the corner of your room. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but upon seeing a literal organic mass spearing from the top of your head, it certainly wasn’t that.

The longer you stared at it, the more uneasy you felt.

The very sight of it alone made you feel nauseated.

“G-get it o-off…!” you barely choked out, the volume of your voice croaking out as nothing more than a whisper.

Mahito’s grin then grew wider, “Not yet, birthday girl. How about some gratitude for your very own built in party hat?”

Surrendering to his terms under the implication that he would undo such a ridiculous alteration to your body, you managed to sputter out that could have resembled coherent words.

“Th-tha-thank y-you, Ma-mahito.”

Yet, the patch faced spirit didn’t seem satisfied with your attempt at all, tilting his head off to the side as though to indicate disappointment.

“Let’s try again,” he requested with a feigned sulk, “with a little bit more enthusiasm, perhaps?”

“Th-thank you!” you blurted out, although still sounding more horrified than grateful.

“That’s better,” Mahito cheered on, his personality rebounding in a split second, “but still not quite good enough,” he added on, “one last time with the right amount of passion? Unless you’d rather I keep it permanently like that?”

“Thank you for this incredible gift, Mahito!” you exclaimed, practically shouting as your both your voice as well as your dignity left your body.

Seeming genuinely pleased, Mahito ran his fingers by your head once again before returning you back to your original form. Not only were you right as rain, but he also gave you a good minute to compose yourself, waiting for you to scold him.

“What was that…?” you huffed.

“A magic trick for your birthday party,” he beamed, charading the flick of a wand, “a gift to get you into the birthday mood!”

“Oh, I’m in a mood alright,” you sighed.

“Not to worry,” he announced after yet another moment of painful silence, his sudden movement jolting you, “I’m going to leave you alone for now. So goodnight, better be thankful or else I’ll bite tonight~!”

Your eye twitched as he continued to taunt you with the almost burdening reminder that regardless of his promised absence, that he would come crawling back into your life the very next day.

Perhaps however, you should be thankful that he only seemed to want to rile you up rather than to torture you.

So maybe that much was a gift in itself than anything else.

>>> more birthday jjk drabbles

[rosettyller]

some analysis of this scene from 2x02, because i am going absolutely insane over it:

first up: it's 2 500 BCE. They've known each other for around 1500 years at this point, but they haven't been meeting up very often; it's implied at this point, that they've only met at the Garden, and the Flood, and now here (as well as in Heaven, but there's varying interpretations about how much they each remember of Heaven).

(worth noting that these meetings are all bible-related meetings)

So, they don't know each other very well at all. This is why Aziraphale approaches Crowley so cautiously (apart from the fact that he thinks Crowley's going around murdering goats and soon kids). He doesn't know what happened to Crowley when he Fell, how he changed when he fell in with Lucifer, how God's rejection has warped Crowley's perspective or changed his morals (their meeting at the Flood seemed quite short, not enough time to get a definite picture.)

Aziraphale is still seeing Crowley as demonic, although there's already that thread of doubt - can you really see him trying to talk Hastur or Ligur out of this the way he does Crowley?

Aziraphale clings to the memory of Angel Crowley - Crowley gets quite defensive.

Here, Crowley reinforces that he's changed - personally I don't believe that he did fight in the War, but his views of God's Plan definitely got more extreme than "thats terrible god should get a suggestion box".

But, I also believe that here, Crowley is reinforcing that he is no longer an angel, and therefore no longer has to play by angel rules. He can do what he wants. He's a demon, it's in his job description.

And of course, that he is a demon, and he is Evil, and of course he would kill goats.

(more under the cut, because I just can't stop talking)

This shot is very yellow. Crowley's hair being the season 1 orange rather than red, the yellow walls, all accentuate the colour of Crowley's eyes, highlighting the physical reminder of Crowley's demonic nature.

I couldn't be bothered to gif it, but here, Crowley leans forward into Aziraphale's face. There are two reasons for this:

Get his yellow Demon Eyes right in Aziraphale face, just to hammer home his point.

It's an aggressive action, moving into someone's personal space like that. Saying, I could hurt you, I'm violent and aggressive and dangerous, I killed those goats, the kids are next.

The way the light hits Crowley's eyes in the above shot and the below shot also make them a very bright yellow. (Edit: I think someone pointed out that Crowley is making his eyes glow, but the overall yellowness of the scene serves to highlight this)

Clever wording on Crowley's part, because as we will find out, he faked the destruction of the goats to keep them safe, while making himself sound very evil.

You'll notice the repetition of "blameless"; this makes him seem even more evil, hurting the innocent, but also gives deeper insight into one of Crowley's biggest issues: hurting the innocent. What have they done to deserve this? Nothing.

This ties in quite nicely with what we have seen before of Crowley and free will; he gives people the option to sin. It's their actions that decide whether they end up in Heaven or Hell; they get what they deserve for their actions. He just makes it easier to choose Hell. (see: phone lines being down making people crankier and encouraging them to be horrible to each other, but it still being their choice, setting the holy water bucket above the door, so it's Ligur's choice to come in after Crowley that gets him killed.)

Note also the use of "long":

Aziraphale says to "tell me you want to do this". "Long" has rather stronger connotations than "want", but also rawer, more fundamental. Crowley is reminding Aziraphale that he is a demon, and that he has the traits of a demon, this is what he is now. He longs for violence, for destruction.

Aziraphale looks quite sad here. If you watch the video I linked, his previous conviction that Crowley doesn't want to do it is very strong. He fully believes in Crowley, that all he needs to do is reframe not killing the kids as within the rules of Hell, the way Crowley so often comes to do for Aziraphale ("Then you can't be certain that thwarting me isn't part of the divine plan too. I mean, you're supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren't you?" "If you put it that way, Heaven couldn't actually mind me thwarting you.").

Aziraphale believed Crowley was still good, that the angel he remembered was still in there. But Crowley rejects it - and it hurts. Crowley has become what a demon should be.

Crowley looks quite sorrowful here, too: he already cares for Aziraphale (he fell in love at the Garden), and it hurts to decieve him, to disappoint him, to hurt him.

I would argue that here, Crowley is scared.

He's in shadow, which dims the yellows; his undemonic nature is about to be revealed.

And that is not safe, because Hell does not send rude notes. And here, Crowley is not doing just any temptation, but trying to help Satan win a bet (supposedly). And out of every demon in Hell, Satan is the one you want to piss off the least.

But here, Crowley is scared because Aziraphale could reveal him - because Aziraphale is on God's side, and because it is revealed that Crowley is not nearly as demonic as he makes himself out to be. He's vulnerable. Aziraphale could scorn him, hurt him. But instead:

Aziraphale is incredibly smug. "I knew I was right", he says. "I knew you were still good".

And here is another issue: Aziraphale conflates God/Heaven/angels with good, and demons/Hell with bad.

And Crowley does not see Heaven as good. He doesn't want Aziraphale to see his angelic core past the demonic exterior. He's on his own side.

This, for Aziraphale, confirms that "the angel you knew is not me", is not correct.

And I think, out of the three minisodes, it's this one that does the most for fleshing out Aziraphale and Crowley's frames of mind this series, and why they choose what they choose in ep6.

Aziraphale has been proven right about Crowley's angelic nature, and that he wants to do good, but can't, for fear of Hell's retribution.

And Crowley does not see Heaven as good. He recognises that being an angel again will not allow him the freedom to do good. (as Aziraphale had to try and talk a demon into helping him save the kids from God.)

[thydungeongal]

Someone in that super long thread brought up the 2e class-specific XP idea (fighters get experience for dealing the killing blow, thieves get experience for finding treasure, etc.), and I'm curious your thoughts on it. I started playing in 3e, and that probably affects my opinion, but the idea of the character levels drifting because individuals are getting "bonus xp" just sounds like it would make life so much harder. Of course, I've also heard that in 2e different classes had different xp requirements to level up, which is also mind-blowing to me.

I haven't played AD&D 2e specifically so individual class-based XP awards are not something I've experienced, but I've got some context I can give to the other questions :)

Pre-WotC D&D was kind of a hodgepodge held together by duct tape but there were some good ideas underneath all the jank! The different XP tables for all the classes are one such example, because it meant not all classes had to be balanced against each other because theoretically the balance could be enforced through differing XP goals. I won't say it was ever perfect, but there was something to it: Clerics and Thieves which started with relatively little would hit their second level first, with Fighters soon to follow, and Magic-Users... Well okay, since playing a 1st-level Magic-User kinda sucked already it was kinda bad that they had to wait the longest to get through the early levels. It was by no means perfect.

So levels were very much not expected not to be uniform across a whole party. Even characters of the same classes across the same party could have different either because of individualized rewards like the ones in AD&D 2e, bonus XP from high ability scores (a questionable design choice imo), and actually participating in games! The idea very much was that you had to be there for a game for your character to level up. It wasn't there just to reward attendance or punish missing sessions, but as far as I've understood there also was something of a tradition of not tying your character down to a specific campaign or narrative. Gonad the Barbarian could appear in Steve's campaign, The Chronicles of Steve, one week, only to guest star in Liz's campaign, The Legend of Elizabethia.

I know this may sound downright bizarre to many modern RPGers, but it's actually a really fun playstyle, and idk I think we should bring back the idea of just taking Your Guy across multiple different tables across the universe.

Also, one more cool thing about the old class experience point tables: they served to balance multiclass characters! Of course in those days multiclass characters worked completely differently: you picked your character's (at most three) classes at character creation and were married to them, and every time your character gained experience you would divide them up between all their classes. And each of their classes advanced individually.

So assuming had a party consisting of Beef the Thief and Eric the Cleric and Blighter-Dave the Fighter/Mage: Beef needs 1,250 to get to second level. Eric needs 1,500. Blighter-Dave needs 2,000 for Fighter, 2,500 for Mage.

At 2,500 XP Beef is actually at 3rd level (the amount of XP needed for a Thief to get to level 3), Eric is at level 2 and 500 short of level 3, and Blighter-Dave is still at level 1/1, because he's had to divide his XP between two classes. But because the XP needed to advance doesn't grow linearly, while Blighter-Dave will never quite catch up to his friends, once their levels start plateauing he will only be one or two levels behind his pals in his highest class level.

And I think that's pretty neat!

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ the most dangerous thing is to love ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: you almost lose him over the most silly of insecurities. content warnings: i'm thinking none. you can tell me otherwise though. word count: 500+

Aaron hasn't been the same the past week, you knew there was a problem and he wasn’t speaking on it, that couldn't be good, he was never the type to shy away from saying what bothered him, especially to you. You knew each other too long, from too way back to keep secrets. 

He's at your couch, sweats, t-shirt, socks. It's Friday night but there are still files on your coffee table he’s looking over. Everything about it is completely ordinary, domestic. But he's too silent, too absorbed in his own mind. Not once did he glance over to you like he usually does, a reassuring smile telling you he enjoyed the quietness. 

You leave the papers you're grading at the desk, going to him ready to get answers, even if you didn't enjoy what they could be, you can see the surprise on his face as you kneed in front of him, taking his hands on yours as you searched for his eyes. “Hey, what's wrong?”

He has that look on his face like he's about to lose something and he's trying to hold on to it as much as he can and that doesn't help your nerves in the slightest. Aaron pulls you up with ease, getting you to sit on the coffee table filled with papers so you can talk face to face. 

"You've managed to avoid meeting Jack more than once now and that worries me." Oh. You open your mouth countless times trying to come up with some sort of excuse that didn't actually exist, eyes blinking so fast you couldn't hide how nervous and surprised you were. "I—I love you and I want you, us. I want a family for him, for Jack. He's front and center always and—" 

Interrupting him with your index finger was your way to show him he didn't need to make his case on this. That was the first time he told you he loved you and it felt like a goodbye and it was your fault for being… Silly.

"I'm too scared he’ll hate me." Your voice is nothing but a whisper, children were never part of your life, you were an only child and then a driven working woman, the friends you had who became moms would soon have conflicting schedules and fall out of touch. If Jack hated your guts you and Aaron could never work it out. 

The relief he feels is so loud he actually has to sigh before chuckling and pulling you in to his lap, hugging you so tight you can barely breath. "He's not going to. I promise you, he's the sweetest kid, really.”

You nod furiously, ready to make things right, "we could go back to your place tomorrow? Go to the movies, maybe?"

"Anything you want, honey."

"I love you too, by the way." It isn't ideal, and it wasn't the most romantic way to declare it. But in a way you always loved each other and you both always knew it.

"Oh good, I was sweating for a minute here."

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 2 – Pool Party 🌊

This was supposed to be 500 words. It isn't. Also, it was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted drabble. I have no clue how it turned into angst/comfort. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing it and hope you will enjoy reading it! ❤️

Day 1 - Strawberries, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Pairing: the reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: Insecurities, mild angst/comfort, implied nudity

It was yet another boiling hot day and the group was suffering. Having to wear heavy leather armour and full supply packs whilst encountering a veritable cornucopia of monsters certainly did not help their mood.

When you saw the glittering blue thread of the river on the horizon, you felt like falling on your knees and weeping tears of joy. The rest seemed to be just as excited as you at the prospect of washing the grime and dirt off their sweat slicked bodies. Even Lae’zel for once did not complain when Gale tentatively suggested that they continue on in that direction.

Your steps quickened and after another hour you finally felt a cool breeze caress your cheeks. You looked over at your rogue walking a little behind you, the gentle wind teasing his silver curls. Astarion was the least affected by the weather but even he seemed to visibly relax when he realised that they would be stopping shortly.

“Phew, soldier. It is hotter than the hells today. Can’t wait to go for a dip. In fact,” Karlach grinned, “can our leader be persuaded to stay here till tomorrow?”

“Well, it would certainly be good for the morale,” Shadowheart agreed, letting her pack drop with a thud. “I, for one, am not moving anywhere until I wash the viscera out of my hair.”

“Tsk, vanity is a vice, dear,” Astarion teased, moving to set up his tent.

“Says the vainest person in Faerûn and beyond,” Shadowheart shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Most certainly! But you see, it would be a sin against all creatures to deny them the opportunity to gaze in admiration upon my beauty. You agree my sweet, don’t you?” he grinned, looking at you fondly.

“Perhaps, although when it comes to looks, I’m afraid this lot certainly could dethrone you, Astarion. You are an attractive bunch,” you smile at your friends as they prepared to finally, finally enjoy the weather rather than suffer in the heat.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest, but I am just happy that we aren’t getting attacked for once. I am half-expecting something to jump out the bushes at any moment. We need to stay vigilant,” Wyll reminded everyone.

“Argh, monster hunters,” Astarion scoffed, “so paranoid.”

You didn’t hear Wyll’s reply, choosing to step into your tent and begin to shed the layers upon layers that you had on.

As you undressed, you scowled as you uncovered yet another scar. Spells healed cuts and wounds well enough, but unfortunately your body was covered in reminders of battles fought.

You tried not to think about. You had bigger, more urgent matters to attend do. But, as you thought of Astarion’s beautiful, unmarked face, you felt an ugly feeling rise as you thought of how a creature as perfect as your elf would think of you when the adventure would come to its inevitable end.

You knew he was fond of you. Knew that he was grateful for what you did for him. And maybe that would be enough for a while still. But you also were under no illusion about what would happen once it was no longer necessary for your merry little band to stay together. The end of the Absolute would probably mean the end of this alliance. They would all carry on their personal quests, fighting their battles, living their lives. And you would let them go. Let Astarion go too. Because you loved him and realised that there would be nothing worse than deny him the freedom that he so desperately fought for.

You heard splashing and laughter from outside the tent, making you smile. You didn’t feel like joining in, but perhaps you could go for a little swim once everyone settled in for the night. Yes, a midnight dip sounded heavenly.

Hours trickled by and finally everyone bid each other goodnight and soon all was still. You gathered your supplies and put on a thin cotton slip. It was not something that you would usually dare to venture out in, but everyone was clearly resting, so what was the harm?

Quietly, you slipped out and walked barefoot along the shore, careful to avoid the sharper rocks, and made your way away from camp.

As you were about put your things down, you felt the fine hairs on the back of your neck rise. Someone or something was watching you.

“Astarion, if you want to catch me unawares, then you shouldn’t have doused yourself in your signature scent. I could smell you before I could hear you,” you turned, your eyes locking with ruby ones.

“Oh, please! I was hardly being subtle,” he took a step towards you, “in fact, I was all but stomping my feet not to startle you.”

“Sure you were,” your lips quirked into a smile and you shivered, suddenly feeling very exposed as he levelled you with an intense, hungry look.

“Any particular reason for you waiting until now to go down to the river, hm? I thought you just couldn’t wait to cool down.”

You gripped the towel tighter, not wanting to talk about your insecurities. As far as everyone was concerned, you were the confident, daring leader. The one who threw yourself headfirst into the epicentre of any battle. And you would rather walk on red-hot coals than admit that you were self-conscious about your body to Astarion, out of all people. Being in a situationship with an impossibly gorgeous vampire did not mean that you felt worthy of being in a relationship with the said mind-numbingly beautiful vampire.

This wasn’t the most exposed you were, you all but shared a tent and were intimate on several occasions. But sex was about being lost in the moment, there was hopefully little opportunity for him to see the full extent of the damage done to your body over the years.

“Darling?”

Your eyes snapped to his fingers as he reached out to cradle your wet face in his hands.

Shit.

Were you crying? You so were not standing near naked in the middle of nowhere with your intoxicatingly beautiful lover and pathetically crying because you felt that you could never, ever hold a candle to him even on your best day. Except apparently, you were.

“I- I’m sorry. I guess the heat got to me. You should go back to camp.”

“I’m staying.”

“No,” you wanted to sound firm, but it came out far less certain than intended.

“Why?”

You pulled on the hem of your slip down subconsciously and looked away. Astarion was quick to catch on. His eyes softened and his hands fell to your shoulders.

“Darling, how many times do I have to tell you how beautiful you are for you to believe it? I can hardly keep away from you.”

“I know. But that’s hardly attraction. I am just, kind of, there. And you are grateful and, I suppose, maybe you-”

He scoffed. “Don’t insult me by insinuating that I have been forcing myself to come to your tent every night for the past several months. You were the first to tell me that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. And now, I very much want to do this.”

You saw a flash of a blade in your peripheral and then felt the fabric slide down as it fell to the ground. You dropped the folded towel you were still holding in a futile attempt to keep what was left of your clothes on you.

“Perhaps a more hands on demonstration of how I feel about you is in order. Time to be a man of deeds, rather than of words, so to speak.”

His lips found your neck as he threw the dagger on the ground and gripped your waist tight, pulling you closer to his body.

“But my scars-”

“Love, I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth unless it is my name, are we clear?”

“But-”

“You told me that my scars don’t define me. That I am more than just my past. It is baffling that you would show endless kindness to anyone but yourself. So let us not waste another moment. No more words.”

You nodded and your eyes fluttered closed, submitting to his eager hands.

“This is what happens when we have no opportunity for taking some time to ourselves. Yet another drawback of staying within earshot of everyone. We are overdue for a little private pool party, hm?” he said, lifting you up and carrying you to the river.

And then Astarion descended onto you, mapping your body with his lips, committing your sighs and moans to memory.

Tag list:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk

@anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck

[thebirdandthebee]

Call Him Daddy (18+)

This one’s short and sweet - trying to bust a writing slump. I could very easily do a part two if there’s interest! Smut ahead :) 

Title: Call Him Daddy Bradley’s been waiting for this day for years, but now, you’ve given him the green light. WC: 2187

The first sign of consciousness was soreness. Before you’d even popped your eyes open that morning, you felt the sublime ache between your legs, and oddly, your breasts.

There was no one to blame but your husband, Bradley. Who’d been awake for about half an hour or so, but hadn’t left the confines of your 500-thread-count sheets.

Bradley was on cloud nine because you were officially trying. After he’d been wishing and hoping and being patient for years, you’d finally had the conversation last night. You’d been married for four years after three years of dating and now, you were comfortable with the thought of tackling parenthood with Bradley.

“Babe? Are we out of mayo?” Bradley had called from the kitchen. You’d assembled a nice little table of accouterments, potato salad and chips as he’d grilled burgers for dinner and you were poised to eat out in the backyard.

Bradley, along with the help of a few of his squadron teammates, had finished the fence in the backyard last week and you were now able to enjoy the outdoor space with just a little more privacy.

“It’s on the door!” You called back, excited, nervous energy zipping through your veins. Tonight you were telling Bradley you’d gotten your IUD removed. Your IUD, which he saw as his mortal enemy.

The truth was, Bradley would have been thrilled if you’d gone off your birth control when you’d gotten married four years earlier. He always thought there was something romantic – traditional – about a honeymoon baby. Hell, he would’ve been more than happy if you’d gotten pregnant before you’d tied the knot.

There were few things in this life he wanted more than to be a dad and have a big family. As someone who grew up with so little, the idea of a full house felt like a dream. You had always known about Bradley’s wishes to be a father, and he was understanding that while it was something you wanted to do, be a mother, you wanted to check a few things off your list first.

You wanted to get married, do some traveling, establish a little more financial security and enjoy life with just you and Bradley for a few years. You loved everything about being a pair – Christmas mornings, vacations, nights out with friends – those would all change with a baby. Certainly for the better, but it would be different, and you’d never get that time as just the two of you again.

You’d spent six weeks backpacking through Europe in the fall, and since then, you’d slowly and quietly been making preparations to transition to a family of three.

And tonight, you’d finally tell Bradley.

“Baby, it all looks wonderful,” you smiled as he sat down, placing a big bowl of watermelon, along with a jar of mayonnaise on the table. “Love when you grill,” you leaned over your bistro table to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks Babe,” he grinned, not flinching as you snagged the sunglasses from the collar of his T-shirt and dropped them over your eyes. You’d chatted about the day – your work day was quiet and Bradley was bringing in a special detachment for training over the next eight weeks. Most of all, you enjoyed the gentle breeze and scent of the neighbors’ lilacs.

“I was thinking…” you began, earning a deadpan look from your husband. Anytime you started ‘thinking’ usually ended up in a new project for him. “Now that the fence is up, could we plant some flowers over in that corner there?” You gestured to the far left side of the yard. A simple request.

“Yeah, we can do that pretty easy,” he agreed. “Maybe some bushes in the other, we can mulch around,” he laid out with his hands, pausing to take a big bite of his now assembled burger.

“Mm, I don’t think that corner,” you shook your head, “I want to keep that back wall of the yard clear,” you stabbed a piece of watermelon before taking a bite.

“Okay, maybe back along the right side,” he trailed a finger along the fence line. “Maybe a bonfire pit?” He suggested.

“Oh definitely not,” you shook your head, nibbling away at your dinner.

“Okay – how about a Jacuzzi?” He suggested. “Now that we have the fence, we don’t need to worry about bathing suits,” he grinned, and while it was a great deal of work not to grin back, you somehow managed.

“Nah, I just don’t think we’d get much use out if it,” you shrugged.

“Baby – nothing along the back side, no bonfire pit, no Jacuzzi – what did we fence this yard in for?” He asked, laughing as he polished off his first burger. It was not out of the ordinary for Bradley to put away three or for burgers on a grill night. You wiped your mouth with a napkin, crossing your legs before taking off his sunglasses.

“Know what I’m thinking?” You asked, taking a final sip of your iced tea. “I’m thinking… swing set along the back there – it’s the perfect view from the kitchen,” Bradley set his fork down. “And a bonfire pit will be fun eventually, but little feet running around the backyard make me anxious… and the Jacuzzi – you know I’d love to take a skinny dip with you, but… it’s just not good for pregnant people, I already Googled it.”

Bradley’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

“And how,” he paused to clear his throat,” how long until we need to start worrying about that?”

“Well I just got my IUD out last week, but my doctor said I can get pregnant in my first cycle,” you dragged your fingertip around the rim of your drinking glass. “Not everyone does, but you’ve always been an overachiever,” you said, meeting his gaze.

“Now? We – now?” Bradley asked, sputtering, patting all over his chest and shorts like he’d misplaced his phone.

“Now,” you nodded, barely getting a moment to gauge his reaction before he was out of his seat, shoulder pressing into your midsection as he hoisted you over his shoulder.

You were sure your neighbors heard the terrified scream that morphed into giggles as he all but kicked the back door in.

“Now?” He said to himself in disbelief, suddenly forgetting the layout of his own home, twisting around in circles to find the staircase. “I can’t believe this, I didn’t do anything to prepare!” He said, not even registering that you were swinging around over his shoulder.

“And what exactly would you have done to prepare?” You asked, wondering if squirrels would completely demolish the spread that laid out on the patio table.

“I don’t know, but I would have done something,” he insisted, taking the stairs by two and only mildly terrifying you.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled, setting you down on the mattress gingerly and immediately reaching for the non-existent fly on his shorts, which were held up on a drawstring. His brain, completely scrambled, was not cooperating and he hastily grabbed the waistband and ripped the shorts down his legs.

God you loved his pale thighs.

“Bradley, you don’t need to hurry!” You laughed.

“Of course I do,” he insisted, kneeling on the bed with one leg between yours, getting to work right away on your button-fly shorts. “I want ‘em all, baby,” he insisted. “Boys, girls – lots of ‘em – and I want ‘em now.”

“I thought we said three max?” You asked, peeling off your own top as he made busywork of your panties.

“Three to start,” he elaborated, “fuck I don’t care.” He shook his head. Pausing, he crawled up to meet you at eye-level. “I love you so much,” he said sincerely. “I can’t wait to be a Dad,” he added, “but more than that, I can’t wait to see you be Mom.” You leaned up to kiss him gently, the same mustache you’d been in love with for years tickling you softly. “You’re sure?” he asked, brows furrowing with just a bit of concern.

“I’ve never been so sure about anything,” you replied, pushing your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for being so patient with me,” you added, “it means more than you know.” Bradley, at the risk of getting choked up, simply kissed you once more before pressing his forehead against yours.

“If I get emotional right now I won’t be able to get hard,” he said honestly, making you giggle.

“You’re going to be such a good Daddy,” you breathed into his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

“Just kidding, I’m hard.”

Now, in the morning light, he was watching with moony eyes as you nuzzled down into your pillow. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as you took stock of all the delicious places you were suddenly acutely aware of with a small twist of your body.

“Mornin,’” Bradley murmured, tucking one hand behind his head.

You groaned gently, eyes squeezing shut tight before softly opening.

“Hi baby,” you greeted, blearily rubbing at your face. Eyes not yet focused, you zeroed in on your husband as he gazed over at you lovingly, his hand moving gently up and down beneath his blanket.

“Hi,” he grinned.

“What are you doing, Bradley?” You giggled, feeling like you were catching your 16-year-old boyfriend.

“Waiting for you to wake up,” he replied. “Ready for day two?” He asked.

“Day two?” You replied with an exasperated smile. “What’s your plan here Bradley?”

“Every day till we get a positive,” he said simply. “If you get pregnant in the next few weeks, we can have a spring baby,” he added.

“Bradley – every day?” You asked, eyes wide.

“I text Hondo, he’s covering for me at lunch next week, Phoenix can take the week after him,” he added.

“Bradley Bradshaw, what did you say to them?” You asked, mildly scandalized.

“Don’t you worry about it, baby,” he grinned, loving the way you rolled your eyes at him.

“Can’t you feed me first?” You asked softly, “the midnight grilled cheese was not enough,” you added. It was also the only time you two had come up for air all night.

“I will,” he assured, pulling the blanket off his body. His erection was pink, the tip wet and veins prominent. “But maybe, just to start the day…” he trailed off as his hand continued to pump up and down his length.

“I am sore,” you countered weakly, eyeing up his anatomy with a wanton gaze.

“I’ll be gentle,” he insisted, “you set the pace,” he added. You nodded, holding open your blanket, and soon, you were sliding down onto him, your body pressed tightly against his from head to toe.

“Oh, Bradley,” you sighed. And though you felt impossibly full, you felt complete. He gently rocked his hips up into you as you curled against his chest. “You’re so good to me,” you whispered, gasping as he hit a tender spot within you.

“You’re the one making my dream come true,” he countered, palming your ass in his hand as he dropped a kiss to the top of your head. “Gonna be the best Mama to our babies,” he encouraged.

You whined gently as he hit your cervix, which you were sure he’d bruised last night, but in the best way possible.

“S’okay,” he murmured, “doing such a good job,” he added, making your skin warm all over. “Doing such a good job.”

For moments, all that could be heard were his steady, even breaths and your soft exhales against his neck.

“Want you to come first,” he said, “I’m right after you – you first, baby.” Bradley did his absolute best to hold back as you gripped at his chest, hugging the underside of his shoulder to you as you fluttered around him. “Good job, good girl,” he looked up at the ceiling, a sweat breaking out across his forehead before he couldn’t hold back any longer. Just the idea that today could be the day they made a baby was enough for him.

“Bradley,” you gasped, his warm cum filling you as his hips jerked up erratically.

“Fuck,” he huffed out in a laugh. “I’m in there, babe,” he panted.

“I can tell,” you blushed, pressing your face into his chest once again. “Can you go make me some breakfast now?” You asked.

“You gotta wait,” he said, planting his feet and pushing his hips up to create a 45-degree angle, raising you up from the bed. “Gotta raise those hips,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“Baby,” you laughed. “Is this real or you just made it up?” You asked, bringing you hands up to brace on either side of his head

“I got a feeling,” he replied. “And it feels nice,” he added, making you blush again. “Next time, you’re gonna be upside down,” he commented.

“Upside down? Bradley, no,” you shook your head with another laugh.

“Baby, I’m gonna fold you every which way till Sunday,” he all but purred. “You’re gonna feel me in here for weeks,” he slapped your bare ass, making you squeal. “Your days as the only person calling me Daddy are over.”

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Call Him Daddy, you might also like Mighty Fine!

[vodika-vibes]

Hey!! I'm new to your blog, but congratulations on hitting 500 followers!! I'd like to participate in the celebration (the post was so aesthetically pleasing, btw) with the following: a diamond with Crosshair in the autumn. Could it be possible to include a female reader who really likes cardigans and going on walks in the autumn and just loves the overall coziness of the season? Can't wait to see what you write! And congrats again!

Sugar And Spice

Summary: Crosshair loves you, even if the words are hard for him, and you love him.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 507

Prompt: Diamond - Everlasting Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So this might not be exactly what you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway. This feels very soft and loving to me.

The temperature is starting to drop. It won’t be long now before there’s snow covering the ground and you have to give up your cozy fall wear for the confining winter wear.

But that’s a problem for later.

You toss a wide grin over your shoulder at the grumpy man trailing slightly behind you. “Cross~” You chirp, “Why are you lagging?”

Dark eyes flicker across your face, and a small smirk pulls his lips up, “I’m admiring.”

You tilt your head to the side, questionably, and his smirk widens. And then a flush crosses your face and you fling a handful of leaves at his face, “You’re awful.”

“You’re the one who decided to wear leggings, kitten.”

You huff, and bounce to his side to wrap your arms around one of his, “Then I suppose I’d better just walk next to you.”

Crosshair carefully shakes you off of him, and takes your hand with his, threading his fingers with yours, “You’re so sweet, kitten.” He murmurs as he brings your joined hands to his lips and presses light kisses to the pads of your fingers.

You stare at him, slightly dazed for a moment, as your heart swells with affection for the man standing next to you. “Well,” You say after a moment, “One of us has to be.”

“What’s wrong, angel?” There’s a cocky smile on his lips, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I love you so much,” You breathe out.

It’s his turn to look slightly flustered, and he averts his gaze, “Yeah, kitten. I know. I…care about you too.”

You beam at him and tug on his hand to keep walking, that’s the same thing as a love confession in your mind. “I think we should get some hot chocolate, don’t you?”

“I thought you wanted to look at the trees,” He replies dryly.

“I want to do both!”

Crosshair chuckles and leans in to kiss your forehead, before he pulls away and lightly tugs on your cardigan to straighten it and pull a leaf off your shoulder, “Are you sure you’re warm enough, angel?”

“Yep!” You grin at him, “It’s not that cold yet.” 

Your friends don’t understand why you love Crosshair so much. ‘He’s so rude!’ they exclaim, ‘he can’t even say that he loves you!’ they add. But you know Crosshair.

He might not be able to say the word, but he shows you his love in other ways. 

In the way he looks at you. In the way he touches you. In the way he talks to you.

Are you warm enough?

Did you eat enough?

Do you need water?

Drive safely.

Let me know when you get home.

All of those things say the same thing. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

And so you pin him with an adoring smile. You can wait until he’s able to say the words…and if it never happens, that’s okay too. You know that his love for you is everlasting.

Afterall, your love for him is everlasting too.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 5 — Cozy Morning

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, mild Smut — mild explicit content/language, implied nudity and sex.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

The December mornings were always cold, but with a raging snowstorm outside your bedroom window, it was almost freezing inside the room. Amidst the aftermath of passionate lovemaking the night before with Bucky, you had forgotten to put on extra heating, leaving you almost shivering beside him now, the comforter doing nothing to keep you warm. Bucky, still remaining peacefully asleep, seemed unaffected by the chill in the room.

Seeking refuge from the cold, you snuggled into his side, molding your body to his form. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you absorbed the warmth and comfort emanating from Bucky, your personal furnace. You planted a kiss on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin a remedy for your cold lips.

Still in a daze of slumber, Bucky began to stir, a faint smile gracing his lips as he opened his eyes to find you cuddled against him like a content cat.

In a swift and gentle movement, he pulled you on top of him, savoring the weight of your naked body against his chest.

“Mornin’, doll,” Bucky mumbled, his voice husky from sleep, sending a delicious shiver through you. His flesh arm encircled your waist, drawing you even closer. “What’s got you all cute and cuddly this morning?” He teased, nuzzling your nose with a gaze filled with adoration.

“You’re so warm and cozy,” you murmured against his lips, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “You make the cold disappear,” you purred before sealing your sentiment with a lingering, heated kiss.

Bucky groaned in approval, deepening the kiss as he enveloped you with both arms. Swiftly, he pulled the covers over, cocooning you in a haven of warmth and intimacy. Underneath the covers, you exchanged kisses and caresses, creating a shared fortress against the cold.

Breaking the kiss, you threaded your fingers through his hair and whispered against his lips. “You’re my favorite way to stay warm, Bucky.”

He kissed you passionately, switching positions with expert ease, resting comfortably between your spread thighs. Open-mouthed kisses trailed along your jaw and neck, eliciting sweet moans.

“Let me warm you up, baby,” Bucky murmured seductively, rocking inside your heat, making your back arch and legs lock around his waist—the storm outside ragging on as you and Bucky got lost in one another with fiery passion.

After the lovemaking that was as passionate as the night before, you and he lay entwined, treasuring the newfound warmth and comfort after the bliss you and he reached together. Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Bucky’s hands, both flesh and machine, danced across your back, caressing your skin.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Bucky spoke in a gentle rumble. “What should we do today, doll?” He kissed the top of your head as he spoke the question.

You tilted your head to meet his handsome face. “How about a lazy day in? We can have a warm bath together before ordering some breakfast and start on some Christmas movies, maybe?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up, and a gorgeous smile crossed his face. “That sounds perfect, baby.”

You spent a few more moments tangled in the sheets, exchanging soft kisses and affectionate whispers, before you got up to continue your cozy morning with each other.

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[beomiracles]

Hello Serene! Congratulations on 500 followers, you’ve come a very long way haven’t you? This request is specifically for the 500 bash special and it’s for: Build your own dream

The plot revolves around the theme of IVE’s song “Hypnosis” where the reader (aka female y/n) is a renowned psychologist that specializes in hypnotherapy. One day, she is approached by Beomgyu who suffers from insomnia. Through advanced hypnosis techniques, beomgyu’s insomniac tendencies slowly dwindled down into dreams and as he began to heal, he starts to develop feelings for y/n. Y/n too does find herself increasingly attracted to beomgyu and from there on, their relationship starts to build outside of professional boundaries and in their private times, they would make out

For their make out session, you have free range to do whatever you want with it: smut, suggestive, etc.

🩵🫶🏼

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... I'm not 100% sure that I captured the idea correct and I got a lil carried away...! but I hope you'll still like it c: ─ I skimmed through it once, does it count as proofreading?

wc -> 2k

pairings beomgyu x hypnotherapist!reader (afab) warnings sensory deprivation, semi-public fingering, slight marking, tiny bit of degrading, tit sucking, no established relationships.

“Mr. Choi”, you mumble without looking up from your papers, “how are you today?” The sound of the door softly shutting behind him fills the quiet room as Beomgyu plops down on the sofa opposite you. “Oh c’mon, doc. You and I both know that we’re past such formalities”, his lips stretch into a grin as he leans back against the soft cushion; propping his arms behind his head, his legs spread in a way that was bound to catch your attention. 

You glance up from your papers, ignoring the heat that rushes to your cheeks as your eyes lock with his. “Right”, you say as you readjust yourself on your own sofa, “how are you today, Beomgyu?” His grin widens at the use of his first name, “well since you ask, I’m delightful.” Giving him a polite smile, you reach for your small notebook in which you kept track of his previous session – and there had been many. You bite your lip as you note how your scribbles had grown sparser with each session; an evident sign to your lack of concentration.

Clearing your throat, you buy yourself some time by keeping your eyes on the few sentences on your current page. “We talked about your dreams last time. Have you been experiencing any more since then?” Beomgyu remains silent for a moment, one of the hands behind his head moves to fiddle with a loose thread of his jeans. Your gaze follows the movement before traveling up his arm, noting that he was wearing a t-shirt that clung to his figure, leaving little to your already wild imagination – you swallow. 

“Yes and no”, he slowly begins as he snaps your attention back to where it should have remained. Internally cursing yourself for your lack of professionalism, you give him an encouraging smile, trying to brush over your small slip up “How so?” you ask as you ready your pencil in order to take notes. Beomgyu gives a small shrug of his shoulders as his eyes remain on the strand of his jeans. “They’re still lucid”, he states and you nod. 

“I can feel everything, hear, and see…I can also touch things, touch people.” He slowly drawls, his gaze unwavering as his fingers twist the small thread. The last part makes you frown as you look up from your notes, “you didn’t mention there being anyone else in your previous session.” The corner of his lip twitches, “that’s right.” – You scribble down the small change before continuing. “So you’re saying that these people started appearing recently?” 

Beomgyu slowly nods. “Do these people hold any significance?” You wonder as you study his unblinking expression, noting the small smirk presented on his lips. “Very much so.” He muses as he looks up from his jeans, immediately his dark eyes find yours and your heart skips a beat. Swallowing a gulp, your gaze quickly drops to the notebook in your lap; your hand moves across the paper as you write down pure nonsense in order to distract yourself. “And are the contents of your dreams the same?” You ask as you recall him telling you about his previous dreams; packed with grief and misery. 

“Certainly not, doc.” He says, his voice lingering with mischief; as if waiting for your next question. – A question he knew you would ask. With a light clearing of your throat, your eyes flit back up to his, “then what have they been about recently?” You watch as Beomgyu’s eyes glint, his lips curling further above his shiny teeth, “you.” 

His answer catches you off guard as you blink at him dumbfoundedly. You? He was dreaming about you? “Alright…” you slowly begin as you shift uncomfortably on the sofa, “and the others..” – Beomgyu shakes his head, “there are no others. Only you, doc.” He smiles, as if his statement had been the most obvious thing he’d revealed to you during all your sessions thus far. 

“I see”, you mumble as you readjust the glasses resting on the bridge of your nose. “Do you still feel comfortable sharing these dreams with me? I can redirect you to one of my colleagues if that feels better..” You propose, silently begging for him to take the bait, to back down from what could become a situation in which your professionalism was jeopardized. – Not that it wasn’t already. 

“Oh I don’t mind at all”, he says as he cradles his face with both hands; resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. You let out a small sigh before nodding, accepting the inevitable task at hand. “Alright then, whenever you’re comfortable”, you agree as you flip a page in your notebook. 

“I was thinking…” Beomgyu slowly drawls as he gauges your expression closely, “that it would be better if I showed you.” The frown that had etched its way to your face was quickly replaced by a look of surprise as he pats the space on the sofa next to him. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea..” – “Oh come on, doc. Don’t act coy with me now, we’ve been closer I reckon.” The smirk that he flashes you is enough for you to realize exactly why you shouldn’t be doing this. – Yet as if your feet moved on their own, you rise from your couch and walk over to him. 

You deliberately take a seat as far away from him as possible in an attempt to keep things at least a bit professional. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to mind your hesitance as he openly ogles the way your skirt glides up your thighs; his gaze only snapping up when your hands pull the flimsy material down once more. You clear your throat as you wait for him to start talking, the brief silence seemed to go on forever. 

“The dream starts off in a dark room”, he says as he holds your gaze. “Close your eyes.” – “What?” The exclamation slips past your lips in sheer surprise at his command, but Beomgyu remains persistent. “You heard me.” Upon noticing your hesitant look he adds, “it will only make sense if you close your eyes.” 

You knew that this was a bad idea, an unprofessional and a terrible idea; yet you do as he says. Your hands placed nervously in your lap, you await his next move. You felt vulnerable like this, stripped of your sight. Beomgyu’s hand on your forearm startles you, and you curse yourself for slightly flinching at the light touch. 

“I always start here”, he murmurs, his thumb gently massages your tense muscles before creeping up your arm. “Your skin is always soft, and warm.” His voice is low as he speaks, fingertips dancing across your shoulder, dangerously close to where your shirt exposed your collarbone and it takes everything in you not to shudder under his touch. 

“Then I do this..” – His hand brushes along your exposed neck, and you involuntarily shiver at the action. His hand against your skin felt hot, burning even, and without your ability to see, your senses become hyper aware of the way his fingers brushed along your cleavage. “You shiver like this in my dreams too.” He mumbles, almost fascinated with the reactions he was drawing from you. 

You know that it is wrong, you know that you should push his hand away, tell him off; but you don’t. – Instead you let it happen, because part of you wants this just as bad as he does, if not more. Suddenly the hand against your chest disappears and you can no longer feel him on you. 

When Beomgyu speaks again, his voice sounds hoarse, strained even. “You never say anything in my dreams.” He sounds dejected as he states said fact, though you barely have time to take note of the change in his voice as his burning hand returns, this time it caresses your exposed knee. A noise of surprise escapes your sealed lips and you can hear his intake of breath at the sound. “It’s a shame. You sound so pretty.” 

You swallow a gulp, already knowing where this was heading – yet not doing anything to stop it. You knew that you had to, if not you would end up where you had a week prior. But his hand, slowly creeping up your inner thigh, brought back memories you had tried so desperately to bury. 

Without opening your eyes, you wrap your fingers around his wrist. “We can’t.” Is all you say as you hold your breath. Afraid that even the smallest of move from your part might break the little self restraint you had left. “Why not?” Beomgyu’s breath is suddenly mere inches from your lips. “Do not tell me that you didn’t enjoy last time.” 

You shake your head, eyes still screwed shut. “Last time was a mistake, Beomgyu.” You whisper as you lean away from him. The grip on your thigh increases as he grows frustrated with your response, “but you have been thinking of it.” His nose bumps against yours, “tell me to stop and I will.” His lips hover above your own, the hand on your thigh slowly creeping higher. 

Drawing in a short breath, you meekly nod, and in a split second Beomgyu has shoved his mouth against yours. You do not dare open your eyes, afraid that if you did, it would all become real, too real. Instead your hands move to his hair, silently begging him for what you couldn’t utter out loud. Beomgyu quickly catches on as his hand seathes itself between your legs; a satisfied groan emitting from him at the feel of your soaked panties. 

“Fuck, doc. You always this wet during our sessions?” 

You don’t answer as you moan against his lips. Beomgyu’s fingers quickly slips past the drenched fabric of your underwear; fuck, he breathes as your wet cunt drenches said fingers. His thumb against your clit sends your mind into a clouded haze as your fingers tighten on his hair. 

“I dream about you every night”, he whines into your mouth as he pushes two of his fingers deep inside your throbbing core; relishing in the way you clench around him. “You don’t even know half the shit you do to me.” – “Yeah?” you breathe out as your hips buck against his hand. 

“Yeah.” He repeats as his head dips down to the juncture of your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses along your skin. The way his fingers curled inside of you made your back arch off the sofa, your chest pressing against his face as Beomgyu’s kisses traveled to your breasts. “W-wait, wait-” you gasp as his fingers rip the buttons of your shirt open, “not in here.” – Beomgyu’s free hand makes quick work of freeing your breasts from the confinements of your bra as his lips wrap around your now exposed nipple. 

“Don’t fucking tell me to wait when I’ve been depriving myself of you for an entire week.” He groans against your skin and all your protests are swallowed by the moans of pleasure he draws from you. “F-fuck”, you whimper as you feel your orgasm approaching. – Beomgyu smirks against your chest, “you gonna cum all over this couch? Explain the mess to your next patients?” 

Your cheeks flush at the comment and you bite your lip as your thighs squeeze together. “Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He taunts as his fingers quicken their pace. Desperately you nod as your fingers twist in his hair. “Dirty fucking bitch.” Beomgyu huffs as his lips return to your breasts, his fingers working you toward your desired orgasm. 

With a small cry, you release all over his hand, your fluids dripping onto the cushion beneath you as you rocked your hips against his fingers. Beomgyu hums contently against your chest before releasing your nipple from his mouth to lean back and admire his work. – From your clouded expression to your abused chest – wet from his kisses, down to your leaking cunt, messing up the sofa. 

He throws a quick glance toward the clock on the wall. – “I still have fifteen minutes left of my session”, he smirks as he unzips his jeans. 

taglist ✎... @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @yunjinsbbg @ninoshome1 @gardnhee @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @beomtasticc @sanasour @celestialbeomgyu @f4iryfever (if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

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[miraclewoozi]

hi angel!! congrats on 500 followers 🫶 i'm so proud of you and i hope u know u deserve every single one of these milestones (and even more!)

i'd like to request hoshi + “you can hold my hand, if you want.” !!

looking forward to seeing you hit many many more milestones🩷 once again, congratulations!

JUST THE TWO OF US? - k.sy

500 follower party <3 ( accepting until 14th March ! )

pair : ksy x gn!reader. prompt : “ you can hold my hand if you want. ” wc : 1.1k and some change. notes : just fluff ! barely proofread. jeonghan is a shit. jihoon is also in on the games. i probably swore once or twice idk. literally warning free otherwise this is just a sweetie pie fluff for my sunshine bby.<3 ( i love u literally so much. thank u for sending this<333 i am kissing ur forehead holding ur hand rocking u to sleep and running through fields of daisies with u as we SPEAK. mwah. mwah mwah mwah mwah. i hope this u enjoy this.<3)

You’re never going to forgive Jeonghan for this.

It was supposed to be a group thing. When the plans were made a few days ago, there were six of you all in talks to go to the movies together, and as far as you were concerned, Jeonghan had booked the seats all at once so you would all be next to one another. He'd given you the time, told you where he’d wait for you inside the theater lobby, refused to accept reimbursement for the ticket (he quite often told you just to cover his snacks, instead), and you didn't think anything more of it. Even last night when you’d messaged Jihoon to ask if he needed a ride, he’d told you that he was going to hop in with Soonyoung so you didn't need to worry.

Which means that obviously, he's in on this too. He's on thin ice, as well.

Because when you walk through the doors at 7:15 on Friday night and turn to the left to meet your friends by the GODZILLA standee, there's only one person waiting for you. Leaning against the wall, eyes glued to his phone, shifting his weight impatiently from one side to the other. Soonyoung. He looks stressed, biting on his bottom lip, seemingly typing out quite an aggressive series of messages: if the increasingly creased space between his eyebrows is anything to go by, all of them are going unanswered.

He doesn't look up until you're standing right in front of him, wrestling your own phone free from the pocket of your jeans. When he does, and he realises that it's you, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Thank God you're here," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was starting to think this was some kind of a set-up."

You laugh quietly, tapping your screen and opening your text thread with Jeonghan, scrolling back to find the messages concerning tonight's plans.

"The others aren't here yet?" you ask distractedly.

Soonyoung shakes his head. "I thought maybe everyone was stuck in traffic, or something," he says. "Wait – are you on your own?"

It's your turn to frown, now.

"Yeah?" you say, glancing back down at your screen. You definitely have the right date and time. "Where's Jihoon?"

It falls silent for a moment as you stare each other down, matching confused looks plastered on both of your faces.

"I thought... he was coming with you?" you say in unison.

The ball drops for Soonyoung first. He slumps back against the wall as he connects the dots in his brain and he brings both his hands up to his face, rubbing the tips of his fingers into his eye sockets. You watch him, concerned: he looks genuinely distressed, and when he re-emerges from behind his palms, his cheeks are brightly flushed, face scrunched up in a way that you're not sure you've ever seen before.

"I'm so sorry," he says wearily, tipping his head back against the wall.

You don't get a chance to challenge him on the apology. At the same time as he says it, your phone pings with a notification; you bring it within range to find a new message from Jeonghan. A picture message. A screenshot, of a movie reservation, except there aren't six seat numbers listed. There are two. And it's not in his name, it's in yours. Underneath, another message pops up, just as wordless as the first. It contains one single wink emoji and a thumbs up.

You get there too eventually, and under your breath, you mutter, "that scheming little shit."

What's more annoying is that Jeonghan joked about doing exactly this a few months ago when you asked, in what you thought was a very nonchalant manner, whether Soonyoung was seeing anyone, what his 'situation' was. After some questioning, he excitedly offered to set the two of you up on a date, if you were interested. When you pleaded for him not to, he teased that he'd find a way, and that he'd catch you out when you least expected it: you never thought he'd follow through though, especially not after this long. You were sure he'd forgotten, just as you had..

You can't believe him. You really can't.

"I guess... it's just you and me," you swallow, acknowledging that this really isn't the fault of the man standing across from you and that it isn't fair to be grouchy with him when he hasn't done anything wrong. Besides, he looks mortified: hands balled up down by his thighs, cheeks still stained pink, a few beads of sweat starting to glisten at his hairline.

"I–... yeah," he grimaces.

"I'm really sorry," you sigh, tapping your pointer finger against the back of your phone. "I didn't– I really didn't have a clue he was doing all this. If I'd known..."

"Hey, no, don't be," Soonyoung insists, shaking off his discomfort and stepping away from the wall, taking a step closer to you. "Why would you-...?"

He trails off and in the seconds that follow, something... happens. Multiple expressions appear on- and vanish from- his face, replaced just as quickly as they come and immediately replaced by another that you don't have quite enough time to read. You're sure the same thing happens to you, too. There's a conversation shared that doesn't result in any words being said aloud, but even so, things are acknowledged. Things are understood. Soonyoung stands up straighter when the threads knit together in his brain and he slides his phone into the front of his hoodie, kicking at the ground with the rubber toe of his shoe as he pulls out his wallet instead.

He starts to take a few slow steps towards the concession stand, keeping his eyes on you to make sure you follow. Your tickets get printed, you head into the screen and settle into the seats Jeonghan booked for you, and while you wait for the movie to start, you make a little small talk. It's nothing groundbreaking. You catch up on the things you've missed in the few months since you last saw him, crack a few jokes, share a few shy smiles, grin as you sip at the drink he insisted on paying for. You bump hands as you simultaneously reach for the popcorn bucket. It takes him a whole ten seconds to get over it.

(He doesn't need to know that it takes you even longer.)

Soonyoung's fingers bounce idly on the arm of the chair the whole time, like he's twitching to do something with them, fighting against a strong, overwhelming impulse. And as the lights grow dimmer and the people around you start falling quiet, you lean over to him, close enough that you can whisper something straight into his ear.

"You can hold my hand, if you want."

So... he does.

He doesn't let go, either: not until the movie ends and you leave together and he walks you all the way back to your car. Not until he asks if you'd be interested in going out on another date: one that he gets to plan. And there are a million reasons you say yes to him, of course, but when he looks so pretty blushing under the lights of the parking lot... how on Earth could you ever say no?

(He squeezes your fingers and gently tugs you closer until you're falling into him: then, he catches you with an arm around your waist and his lips on yours. The salty aftertaste of the popcorn on his mouth lingers long after he says goodnight, and you consider, on the drive home, that maybe you can forgive Jeonghan this one time.)

(Just... not before you make him squirm a little bit, first.)

[maehemthemisfit]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄

ask — Can I ask you that the reader 💋 them while they are 😥 and 💙 in order to 😇 them, (I really hope this makes sense) Characters: Scaramouche & Xiao (This is my first time requesting something, hopefully I did it right ☠️) - requested by @oddshroom

a/n — this took me so unbelievably long to write but I'm working on my emoji asks now! okay so apparently I have no self control when it comes to writing scara so this ended up being 3k instead of 500≤1k so I'm making this separate from the xiao's. also dw love, you did it absolutely right so it was clear and concise <3

pairing — [ scaramouche x gn!reader + 💋 kissing them while they're 😥 having a nightmare and 💙 playing with their hair in order to 😇 comfort them]

edited by: my homegirl @xiao6ao

masterlist / xiao post / emoji prompt list

Since when was the melody of screams this unpleasant? Or perhaps, maybe it was never a sweet tune to begin with.

The crackling of fire howled and filled his ears, yet he watched silently as the flames ate away at the wooden structure, devouring the joyous memories he created there. Ashes sprinkled the blazing air, scurrying around like fire flies and filling his lungs.

His breathing was shallow, huffs of air spilling from his chest and reminding him of how human he seemed. But he could never be human, not when his chest was but a hollow cavern, overflowing with nothing but broken dreams and empty promises. His fingers trembled beside him, and subconsciously, he backed away from the dazzling light.

Why was he afraid? How could he be afraid? After all, he was the one who’d started the fire.

"N-No..." Scaramouche whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the scene before him. "This... this already happened. Why am I seeing this again?" He looked to his palms— a desperate attempt at gathering his sense of self— but upon seeing his old attire, he found himself inarticulate.

This can't be. It was like he was back to being—

"Kunikuzushi," That voice... that was- "Why did you do this?" The child cried, clutching a familiar doll to his chest. It was threaded with such precision and care, casting in his mind a fond memory of the weeks he spent learning how to sew such a thing with his past friend.

Then the sight of the child’s charred skin hit him, and the endearing thought was discarded. He looked just as he did so long ago— sick, fragile.

But his eyes, oh his eyes told another story.

Scaramouche remembered his eyes, always full of wonder and curiosity, much like his own when he was just a fledgling. Those eyes that would beam up at him as the child tugged him away to a new discovery. Those eyes that would melt close as a smile formed on the child's lips. Those eyes, that were now boring holes into his own, absent of life and that childlike glee he was once accustomed to. Those eyes that were now swirling with fear, fear that was now directed at him.

"I didn't—!!" Scaramouche found himself choking, misery seeping into the depths of his chest and pouring out into his voice. He felt utterly nauseous at the sight before him, heaving breaths of uncertainty as hot tears began to spill from his indigo hues.

Shakily, he brought a hand to his mouth, searching for the words he wanted to say. "I didn't mean to... you- you broke your promise..."

The child took a step back, "Promise? What promise?" The puppet’s brows furrowed at the confusion on the child’s face, the air getting all the more jeering— threatening to strangle him— the longer they spoke.

"You said we were family. You said you would never abandon me," Scaramouche recalled. Abandon. Just the word sizzled and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair at all.

“I didn’t abandon you,” the boy managed to retort, his voice scarcely a rasp. “I died!” He choked on a fit of coughs as he succumbed to the illness both his parents fell to.

Abandon… die…

Those were two completely different words, were they not? Yet, somehow, the discarded creation had found the two synonymous. The concept of death was still foreign to him all those years ago, and the timing was impeccable, as if someone were pulling the strings to all his misfortune. One betrayal after another. It was a deadly recipe of disaster that bubbled over into impulsive decisions and, finally, the roaring flames before him.

And now, he could only witness this village burn all over again— brick by brick, plank by plank— and watch the terror in the eyes of the one he called his friend, of the people he held close to where his heart should be, resurface from ashes long gone.

Damn it. It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

Another staggering step, and the flames began clawing at the child’s leg, searing deeper into his already charred skin. "Wait! Please!" Scaramouche shouted, lunging forward towards the kid now set ablaze and embraced in the wild, untamed fire. “Don’t leave me—" No, not “—again.”

But it was all in vain. He pleaded. He cried. He called, yet no one came.

His fingers crossed the child's, the doll slipping from the child's grasp and into the desperate puppet's hands. And without skipping a beat, the child burst into cinders before his eyes.

The ground kissed his knees as he collapsed, trembling hands digging into the veil that did little to shield him from the raging light. Within seconds, it was torn to shreds and soaked in the tears that he bled.

He wept, voice barely above a whisper. "Why couldn't it have been me…" Those tears, those pathetic emotions he harbored, why couldn't they stop? Why did it hurt so bad? Why did everyone leave him?

A dry, forced chuckle passed his lips that were drenched with the downpour from his eyes. He wiped them.

"Maybe I am just some faulty being." He looked up at the stars that watched in silence above him, ignoring his pleas for help. Gods… humans… even the stars were nothing but lies.

It was only then that a sensation ran down his neck, causing him to flinch from the sudden sense of touch. He whimpered despite trying his best not to, yet what he felt wasn't in the slightest unpleasant.

He leaned into it, eyes growing heavy with whatever was circling his skin, the pain that drenched him before growing numb as the flow of his tears drew softly to a stop. He felt small, yet safe under this eerie yet familiar touch, like an angel was embracing him and shielding him away from the tragedies that plagued the world.

A trickle of hope poured into him, flooding a soothing warmth through the chest that had been poisoned by a twisting ache. His fist unraveled the tattered veil, his hands now clinging onto something more plush and soft, though he couldn't see.

It told him he was fine. He was safe. He was sound.

Sound?

The air caught his mind, now devoid of the screams that smothered him just moments before. Even the crazed laments of the fire ceased, replaced by the quiet pitter patter of falling droplets— none of which he felt.

What he did feel was something soft showering his face, warm and featherlike, and another delicate touch swaying back and forth over his cheek, creating a peaceful harmony within his settling mind.

Despite the heaviness in his limbs, he pulled himself closer, his legs rubbing against silky fabric instead of the ashened ground of what had once been his home. His arms drew himself closer against whatever was bringing him comfort, the sound of something beating surprisingly washing away the rest of his worries. He drifted far away from the panic that once overcame him, the raging storm in his head now reduced to calm waves of water, carrying him safely back to reality into the arms of an angel.

His eyes, tired and spent, fought to open. His vision made out from blurring colors the sight of another person laying beside him. They leaned into him, and he felt the same featherlike sensation on his forehead. A voice he recognized— he had yet to decipher the words— filled his ears.

It was…

Before his eyes could fully adjust, he was already curling against your chest, fingers softly grabbing your shirt and tugging like his life depended on it. In an instant, the world came rushing in, his lungs breathing in the calming air of the small apartment you shared.

He was fine. He was safe. He was with you.

He called your name, his voice cracking as a groan slipped past him, muffled by his face pressing into you. Memories of his nightmare crashed back in restless waves, threatening to drown him once again. He coughed, attempting to speak through labored breaths.

"I s-saw… my, I-'' Scaramouche hiccuped, his body starting to shake like the harsh winters of Snezhnaya was biting through his porcelain skin.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, take your time.” You were quick to silence him, whispering affirmations in the mist of night for only his ears to hear. He clutched onto you tighter. “It’s okay love, I’m here.”

After the countless years of suffering the puppet endured, he wasn’t fond of being touched by any living being— at least, not after all the torturous poking and prodding he was subjected to during Dottore’s experiments, whilst promises of “making him stronger” or “unlocking his true divinity” fell on deaf ears as he withered in pain.

But you? He couldn’t help but melt under your irenic touch, something that was foreign to him for decades. It took awhile for him to adjust to your displays of affection, but eventually your arms became his new safe haven, something that was all apparent now as you rubbed gentle strokes against his back, the sobs that were born from his horrid dream now dying down to soft sniffles and hums.

The moon glowed in all its glory in the blanket of night, illuminating the two lovers cuddled closely together like birds in a nest. Its silver glow became sparkles in the stray tears that spilled over his cheeks, your hands calmly wiping them as they fell. He came to realize over some time that the featherlike touches he felt prior were you pressing kisses to his face.

The moon came and fled as the sun put it to rest, painting the darkened skies in shades of blue and red. Its rays glimmered, peaking through the window and shedding its warmth on the both of you. By then, the wandering puppet’s tear stained cheeks were dried, his breathing leveled, and eyes half lidded, swirling with bouts of serenity.

Your hand was idly playing with his hair, gently combing through and dividing pieces that fell across his face. A comfortable silence filled the air, only penetrated by the whisper that flew past your lover’s lips, calling your name. You hummed as his hand slowly crept from under the covers, reaching out to grab yours from his strands and bringing it to his chest. His warm breath tickled your skin when he sighed, the feeling being overthrown when his lips kissed the back of your palm, lingering for nearly a minute.

“Do you…” He spoke softly, still firmly holding onto you, yet his voice sounded far off, eyes distant and hazy. “Do you think I’m evil?”

The question dripped from his lips like dew to a leaf, dropping into your ears for your brain to soak it in. Melancholy sprouted from it, growing vines that entangled your heart.

The word evil ran through your head, such a harsh term to describe someone, you scrutinized. Could you really compare the word to the former harbinger lying across from you? Perhaps his past actions, but…

Do evil people cry genuine tears? Do evil people feel remorse for their wicked deeds? What truly defines evil anyway?

The fluttering of wings fanned your clouded thoughts, your answer becoming clear along with the sound of birds chirping. You tugged at the vines clenching your heart, ripping them with ease as you looked at the man in question.

“Doing good things doesn’t make you a good person,” you imparted, staring honestly into his alluring eyes. He listened intently as you spoke, hanging off of every word like a puppet to a string. “And doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person either.”

The foggy look in his eyes finally cleared.

“I think you experienced the worst parts of the world before you could understand the beauty of it, which led to your notorious doings.” You adjusted your hand to hold his, and he gave you a gentle squeeze as your thumb caressed circles into his. “But if we look back to your ‘previous incarnation’ without your memories, or your titles before Balladeer, would you call them evil as well? Would the people who knew you then describe you in such a way?”

The question floated in the air. A quizzical frown assuming the puppet’s features. For a second, he was back in his dream again— images of fire and ash tainting his mind. He remembered those eyes that were swirling with fear, anxiety threatening to crawl up his spine again.

He was fine. He was safe. He was…

“I didn’t abandon you,” The child's voice played back in his head, oddly sounding more soft compared to the voice he heard in his dream. Another recollection filled his thoughts— it was the sight of the child pulling him eagerly, a wide grin adorning his chubby cheeks, a giggle followed by his own filling the air as he allowed the kid to guide him to some growing lavender melons.

"I- I can't reach it. Awhh," The child pouted, looking away from the tree dejectedly.

"They are pretty high up," Scara- no, Kunikuzushi observed, bringing a hand to his chin. "You'll be able to reach them if I give you a lift though."

"Really? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You're really the best ya know, and d-don't forget it either!" The child cheered, jumping up and down in his small burst of excitement before calming down. He tired easily, no matter what he did.

"I'm the best? But I'm just a mere—"

The small mortal coughed weakly, balling his fist right after and shouting a heartfelt declaration. "Puppet this, puppet that. You're a good person and you're a good friend. There's no if, ands, or buts about it,"

He couldn't help but reciprocate the child's smile.

"I- I guess you have a point," Kunikuzushi hummed, his face blooming a pretty pink as he tried to hide under his veil. "You know… you sound a lot like an old friend of mine.”

The memory faded as quick as it came, his shoulders now relaxed and expression thoughtful. You assumed he reached the same answer as you.

They wouldn't call him evil. Never in a million years.

“I couldn’t either," You answered his thoughts, bringing your hand back to card through his hair. "Which is why I don't think you're the monster you make yourself out to be."

He wanted to laugh, but he found himself without a voice. All those questions he aimlessly sought answers to. He’d even asked the God of Wisdom the same thing, yet her answer was quite different from yours. But could he really take your words to heart— or hold it above the words of a god? Would her answer change if he asked her again? Would your answer change if he wronged you?

He was fine. He was safe. He was good.

The sounds of rain dwindled as the critters of light rustled away, chirping and hollering to the sun’s presence. By now, its light blanketed you both, whisking off the drowsiness as you rubbed your eyes. You were in the midst of calling your lover’s name when his fingers wrapped around your leg, pulling it over his hip to bring you close once again.

He cupped your face, your eyes instinctively closing as his lips embraced yours, the warmth of his touch enough to rival the sun and the shine of the moon. No celestial body could reap what the two of you had sown beautifully together.

You held his past, present, and future, carried his vices and virtues, wiped his tears and tore down his walls even when he built them up too high.

You stayed, even when he couldn't give you his heart.

He was enough, you reminded him proudly each day. He was safe. He was fine. He was loved.

"I love you," Scaramouche found himself mumbling against your lips, breathing out a content sigh when the two of you finally parted.

It was the first time he initiated such a declaration, and while he'd never admit how much it affected him, the shy smile carved into his face spoke it well enough. His passionate gaze lit a thousand flames in your soul and it was your turn to fall into the rabbit hole of his beauty.

With another quick kiss, you touched your foreheads together, your voice a lullaby to his ears as you chimed the words that always made him feel something skip a beat in his chest.

"I love every part of you, and never forget that," you huffed, feigning a pouty expression to entice a smile— which he effortlessly gave.

"Don't worry, I won't," he laughed heartily this time, making an effort to find your hand and intertwining your pinkies. He brought them to his chin, pecking the side of your hand once more. "I promise."

TAGLIST — @sonder-paradise @96jnie @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss

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[soulprompts]

i wanted to write another reassuring psa for you lovely people today, primarily because i've seen some posts on my own dash and it might seem very unsettling for people who haven't been on the dash for so long.

when someone announces that they'll be doing a spring-clean and limiting their followers, that is not an insult nor is it ever intended to be.

here's the thing. on tumblr, we forget ourselves. you see your list of followers as a number and maybe you think "oh wow, that's a good number, i must be doing something right!" and it's a lovely feeling! now let's say you have 150 followers. let's say 30 of them have more than one blog on which they're following you, so that's. let's say it's 100 people.

now imagine this scenario: there are no computers. there are, instead, 100 people standing in a line in front of your desk. they have two or three roleplay memes to deliver, a thread or two to continue. that's 500 things, maybe, for someone to do. someone who already has other obligations behind the screen, like a job, or school, a family, ANYTHING. either way, even if they really have nothing else going on, 500 things is a LOT. and maybe you're actually experiencing stress doing something that's supposed to be lowering your stress levels as a result.

now this isn't me telling you that 100 people is too many people to be following. it's just an example. some people manage just fine with more, or less. but if you're at home, stressing and panicking over just how many things you have to focus on here, and then maybe you wanna explore a new verse, a new idea, a new SOMETHING, then it's very overwhelming. and i want you to know something.

it is okay for you to decide to lower your follower count. you are not a bad person for doing that. the people you remove from the list of mutuals are similarly not bad people. it's sometimes just a necessary thing to do, and i know for a fact that it's not a decision that's instinctual; it's often a choice made after weeks of taking a break and deleting drafts and emptying inboxes. you can refollow again when things are easier! nobody said you can't! but we have to stop normalizing the idea that it's okay to be stressed on here. it isn't. we're here to have fun. i love you all, go hydrate, stretch yourselves out, play some music and wash your face.