#and luke from s2

[noctunis]

falling back into my twdg rabbit hole.. can’t find any newer fics except maybe like 2 headcanons yet i am haunted by my past wives (aka grown ass men)

[cloud-sitting]

“You can always tell when a suitor is serious about courtship just by how he looks when a young lady dances with another.”

Uhhhh yeah… I’d say he’s pretty serious.

[sol-insidious]

Post-Episode 5 reaction

[iwtv-az-hours]

Poor man

He just wanted another night of drugs and perhaps some c0ck

Instead he found himself accidently homewrecking the morbidly disfunctional 28year marriage of the one real life vampire gay couple currently roaming the state

[junoboxparty]

ayo my copy of s2 kinda f*cked up

[brrrritscoldinhere]

I have a headcanon where if Carver never happened and the season 2 group lived happily ever after, Luke revives Clementine's love for drawing!! He'd go out scouting for supplies and conveniently come back with colouring pencils and sketchbook from a home he searched through. At first Clem is hesitant because drawing and coloring is a thing she thinks is reserved with Lee, because she only did it when she was with him. She never touched another crayon and paper ever since he died, so she takes what Luke offers her with a lot of hesitation.

She, of course, still has her drawing of Lee in her bag. She's never let anyone else see or touch it, and she considers it a very special, very important part of her. It's the only physical thing left of her and Lee's time together. She doesn't ever want to draw after that, feeling like she's doing Lee's memory wrong by 'moving on' with drawing again. Of course that's just her guilt talking, though.

Luke, however, accidentally comes across it when Clementine leaves her bag (conveniently) open, and the drawing slips out. The illustration is obviously done by a child, and it's definitely made with a lot of love (Luke can see how it is, very determinedly, coloured within the lines) and he wonders if this is Lee who Clem told him about. He notices that the sketchbook he's given her is still empty, and while he can't say he understands (because he never will, he's accepted the fact that Clementine has her past and it's not his right to dig into it) he feels an urge to get her to start drawing again. She's eleven years old but at this point, she might as well be a seasoned veteran with how much she's gone through.

So one day, he gets her sketchbook, the colouring pencils and sits down in front of her.

"Hey Clem. I used to have this really neat horse, but I'm shi- uh, crap, at drawing. If I described it to you, do you think you could help me draw it? Have you ever seen a horse before?"

Clementine squints her eyes at him. "On TV, yeah. I used to watch My Little Pony."

Good enough.

So they spend the rest of the afternoon drawing horses, colouring them different shades of brown, black, white, grey - and he doesn't mind when she colours one in pink, because who is he to get in the way of artistic expression? - and by the end of it, she's on her stomach, feet swinging in the air and humming softly to herself.

He pretends not to notice when she starts to draw people instead of horses, when her illustrations start to look like a certain man he's seen in her bag. He pretends not to notice when she illustrates different scenes. They range from happy and sunny pictures to bloody and violent sketches. He can't help his smile though, when he spots a very familiar brown-haired man in a sitting position next to a little girl with curly hair, both of them drawing.

[biilodyfangs]

they definitely know the power they have on this fandom

it's either they're using "method acting" as an excuse or they're just freaky and obsessed with each other like that

whatever it is, i know they can't wait to film devil's minion scenes

[vividdreamer]

we know aemond has curly hair and he makes his chamber maids straighten it with a hot comb every morning

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

anyways what is with the writers and defanging character choices. now both alicent’s decision to put forth aegon as king and daemon’s decision to deliberately target helaena’s children are chalked up to mistakes and happenstance. can they let characters make bad choices on purpose, please and thank you

[ace-with--a-mace]

weather is starting to feel like i need to rewatch jatp

[loganremade]

what’s the worst twdg season in your opinion season 2 or season 3 👁️

season 3!!! i remember reading about the original plan to make it darker and high stakes and the plot was so much interesting and engaging than what we got in the end. at least season 2 had its good moments, but i did not enjoy season 3 AT ALL, and i hate it because i actually like javi and i was excited about latino character as a main protagonist, but then i got so disappointed. rip season 3 you could’ve been good if telltale hadn’t prioritized quantity vs quality

[filmmakerdreamst]

#People who say that Luke and Julie can't be in love bc they didn't kiss#Need to fucking look via @longlivethefallen

Favorite Juke moments ♥

[gf2bellamy]

hi, angel! your writing is beautiful and i hope it’s okay that i ask for a request. i was wondering if i could get some hurt/comfort of ANY FORM but i would particularly enjoy reader comforting spencer. maybe they find him high as a kite in his apartment and they help him sober up and they take care of him (s2) or maybe he has a terrible nightmare involving reader and they calm him down (s12 post-prison). who knows! it’s all up to you. thank you again!

nightmares — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer has nightmares , also mention of spencer not sleeping a/n: hiii !!<333 i hope you like this :)

You weren’t really paying attention to whatever science fiction show was playing, just a random episode of something Spencer had put on earlier.

It had been a nice evening. Garcia and Luke had stopped by, the four of you laughing over takeout containers in Spencer’s apartment. Hours had slipped away without notice, and by the time Garcia and Luke decided to head home, it was very late.

Now, it was just you and Spencer. Well, Spencer was fast asleep.

You sat curled up in his armchair, your legs tucked beneath you, watching him from across the room. His head rested against a pillow on the couch. Loose curls fell over his face, shifting slightly every time he exhaled.

For a moment, you considered going home. You could slip out quietly, head back to your own bed and let him sleep. But the thought of him waking up to an empty apartment made you hesitate.

You knew how much silence could sometimes feel suffocating to him, how loneliness could creep in during the quiet hours of the night.

So, instead, you leaned back against the chair, resting your head against the plush fabric, willing yourself to stay awake just a little longer. Just in case he stirred. Just in case he needed someone there when he did.

Some time had passed, and you were pretty sure you had dozed off for a few seconds when a sound from the couch jolted you back to awareness. Blinking away the haze of sleep, you turned your head, rubbing your eyes as you tried to focus.

Spencer shifted restlessly, his body twitching, his breath coming faster.

At first, you thought he was simply stirring, but as you watched, confusion giving way to concern, you realized, he was having a nightmare.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should wake him. Spencer didn’t talk much about his nightmares, but you knew he had them.

Carefully, you pushed yourself up from the armchair, stepping lightly toward the couch. His face was tense, brows furrowed, his lips moving as he muttered something under his breath, words you couldn’t quite catch.

“Spencer,” you said softly, reaching out to graze his arm, your fingers barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

He didn’t wake. If anything, he tensed further, his body practically curling in on itself. Your heart clenched.

This time, you gripped his arm a little more firmly, shaking him gently but with purpose. “Spencer,” you repeated, voice a little steadier now.

His breath hitched, his body stiffening beneath your touch. And then, all at once, his eyes flew open.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both just stared at each other, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the shadows of whatever nightmare had gripped him still lingering in his eyes.

Spencer sat up slightly, shifting so there was space for you to sit at the edge of the couch. Hesitantly, you lowered yourself down, your fingers twitching at your sides, unsure if you should reach for him again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running a shaky hand through his curls, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, watching as his fingers trembled slightly in his hair. You hesitated before adding, “Are you okay?”

A stupid question, you realized the second it left your lips. Of course, he wasn’t. How could he be?

It had only been a few months since he got out of prison, but it still clung to him. You saw it in the way his shoulders tensed at sudden noises, in the way his eyes darted around unfamiliar spaces as if searching for an escape. And in moments like this, when sleep wasn’t an escape but a trap, forcing him to relive things he never spoke about.

He let out a slow breath, dropping his hand from his hair. “Yeah.”

His gaze flickered to yours for a moment before he looked away, his jaw tightening as if he were fighting to keep himself together. Your chest ached. You wanted to say something that would make it better, something that would chase away whatever ghosts were haunting him. But words felt useless.

So instead, you reached for his hand.

He tensed at first, just a slight, instinctive reaction, but then, after a beat, he let you take it. His fingers were warm against yours.

“I… I couldn’t save you,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “In the dream, you were… and I couldn’t…” He trailed off, his grip tightening on your hand as if he were afraid you might disappear.

Your heart broke a little. “Spencer,” you said softly, waiting until he opened his eyes to look at you. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to save me because I’m already safe. We’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice cracking.

“Stop apologizing,” you said gently. You traced his fingers lightly, barely a whisper of touch.

“I’m sorry you have them,” you murmured, your voice quiet. Your eyes flickered downward, focusing on the way your fingers tangled together. Spencer followed your gaze, watching your hands with an unreadable expression. He was sitting more upright now.

He was silent for a long moment before exhaling through his nose, shaking his head. “They’re… inevitable,” he said, voice rough around the edges. “I’ve had nightmares before. But these…” He trailed off, his fingers twitching against yours.

“These are different,” you finished for him.

He swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

You didn’t ask for details. You didn’t press. If he wanted to tell you, he would. If he needed the space to keep it to himself, you’d give him that, too.

Still, you wanted to help, somehow.

“What do you do when you have them?” you asked softly. You were certain this wasn’t the first time he’d had nightmares about prison.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a second before he answered. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you repeated, your heartbeat picking up as you felt his grip tighten slightly around your hand. His thumb absentmindedly traced slow, careful circles against your skin, and you had to remind yourself to focus.

“I just stay awake after having them,” he admitted, his voice quiet. His eyes flickered toward the television before settling back on your entangled hands.

You frowned. “Well, that’s not healthy.”

A ghost of a smile almost touched his lips. “I don’t think nightmares care much about health,” he murmured.

You sighed, shifting slightly so you were angled toward him more. “Still, you can’t just stay awake all night every time.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but his fingers stilled against yours, and you could tell he was thinking about it.

“I don’t think you should stay awake now,” you murmured, your voice soft but certain. “It’s not good for you. And I’m worried about you, Spence.”

You had been suppressing the urge to reach for him all night, resisting the pull of wanting to smooth his unruly curls. But now, you let yourself give in. Gently, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear.

Spencer exhaled sharply, to tell you that you didn’t need to worry about him. “You don’t have to be—”

“But I am,” you whispered, your fingertips grazing lightly against his temple before you pulled back.

An idea formed in your mind, and before you could say it, Spencer must have already guessed where your thoughts were headed.

“No, you don’t have to—” he started, already shaking his head.

“Maybe it’ll help,” you interrupted, standing up, your hand still holding his. You didn’t let go. “Unless… you don’t want to?”

Spencer hesitated for only a second before following your lead, standing as well. “No, I want to, I just—” He swallowed, his voice quieting. “What if I have another nightmare and wake you up?”

You were already gently pulling him toward his bedroom, your fingers laced with his. You looked back at him, offering the smallest smile.

“I don’t mind.” And you meant it.

You pulled him into his bedroom, where the bedcovers were neatly tucked in. As you let go of his hand, the reality of the situation began to settle in. Nervousness bubbled up in your chest. You quickly pulled the covers back, trying to focus on the simple task of making the bed look comfortable.

He sat on the bed first, scooting over to give you room. You followed, sliding in beside him. Spencer laid his head back on the pillow, his eyes closing briefly. You did the same, but the silence stretched for a moment longer than usual.

Then, as if by some silent agreement, you both turned your heads at the same time.

You met his eyes, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Your hair is so chaotic,” you said softly in a playful tone.

Spencer’s lips twitched into a smile too. “I know,” he replied, his voice light. “It’s like it has a mind of its own.” You laughed quietly.

And without thinking, you reached over again , your fingers gently pushing a few stray curls from his forehead. He didn’t pull away, letting you fix it.

“You’re lucky I like chaos,” you murmured, the smile still lingering as you brushed your fingers through his hair for a second longer than you intended.

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he turned slightly toward you, the space between you now much smaller than before. His hand found yours, fingers brushing lightly, sending warmth flooding through you.

“Thanks for staying,” he said quietly.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in response. “Of course.”

After a beat, he shifted, and before you even realized it, his body had turned toward yours, his arm pulling you gently closer. You didn’t resist, your body responding instinctively, finding comfort in the warmth of him beside you. Slowly, you both became a tangle of limbs, your head resting against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you.

You let out a soft sigh, feeling the tension leave your body as Spencer’s breathing slowed beside you. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, the motion soothing.

The next morning, the soft light from the window gently woke you up. Your eyes opened slowly, still heavy with sleep, but then you realized after a moment that Spencer was already awake. He was tracing soothing circles on your back, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, lost in thought.

You stirred slightly in his arms, and his attention shifted, his eyes landing on you. He watched you for a moment before you finally lifted your head.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice low and groggy, as his hand brushed a few strands of hair away from your face.

“Hi,” you whispered back, smiling softly but resisting the urge to just close your eyes again and fall back to sleep against his chest.

There was a brief moment of silence between you both. Spencer’s fingers continued their slow, calming motion on your back, but then he spoke again, his voice quieter now, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

“I didn’t have any nightmares,” he said, his words tentative but hopeful, as if he was waiting for confirmation.

A rush of happiness flooded through you, you sat up, crossing your legs in front of you. You turned toward him with a wide, genuine smile, your heart skipping a beat.

“Really?” you asked, your eyes sparkling as you looked at him.

“Really,” Spencer nodded, his voice still quiet but with an edge of relief in it.

You couldn’t help but smile even wider, the warmth in your chest spreading. “I’m so glad, Spence,” you said, your voice filled with genuine happiness.

Spencer seemed to search your face for a moment, then his hand reached out to rest gently on yours, fingers interlacing. He gave you a small but sincere smile.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You squeezed his hand gently. "Anytime," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his. "I’ll always be here."

[bumblesimagines]

Blood of The Dragon

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Still reeling from the death of Lucerys Velaryon and the failed assassination attempt that resulted in the death of Jaehaerys, Aemond seeks out his closest kin.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, brief Targcest (Older Brother-Younger Brother), (Y/N) is the twin of Helaena, mentions of the deaths of children (Luke and Jaehaerys), blatant manipulation but Aemond is touch-starved so, potentially ooc Aemond im still figuring out how to write him, kinda short

WFMF may take a bit to come out y'all! I'm waiting to get my hands on the book again so I can finally decide if/what I'll change from the show and what I'll keep.

~~~

Aemond scarcely paid the Small Council meeting any heed, his gaze shifting between staring at his brother's exhausted, dead-eyed expression and studying the golden coin pinched between his thumb and index finger. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the design etched into the coin and felt a strike of dread squeeze around his throat. The coin continuously served as a reminder of how close Daemon's vermin had been to stealing the air from his lungs, and how cruelly they'd taken his little nephew's head instead. 

Aegon looked ruined, his anger and grief coaxing him into sinking further and further into his cups until he could no longer comprehend the words fleeing his mouth. Aemond found it pathetic most days, for the 'rightful' heir to be a whiny drunk, but now he found it in himself to be sympathetic toward him. Aemond knew little of losing a child but the death of an innocent child he watched grow up still struck pain in his gut. He never expected their older half-sister to be so cruel. 

With the meeting ending swiftly after reaching nothing new or useful, Aemond retreated from the room in long strides that took him down the many halls of the Keep. His thoughts continued in circles, reminding him of young Luke and the horror that'd washed over him when he watched Vhagar snap her jaws around him and his dragon. The younger dragon had fallen to bloody bits from the sky and into the vast ocean below, washing up on a beach or so he'd heard. He hadn't desired such an outcome but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears when everyone whispered 'Kinslayer' behind his back. 

Before he knew it, his legs had taken him to his older sister's room and he entered with some hesistance, unsure of what he could possibly say or do that'd ease the pain of losing a child. He immediately spotted Helaena seated on the floor with her skirt spread around her and her hands occupied with finishing an embroidery. Her fingers moved automatically, muscle memory from all the times she'd spent doing needlework. Her pale eyes remained distant, however, and red from constant weeping. Aemond always knew Helaena to be the most sensitive out of all his children but he'd never seen her cry before. 

"Aemond," Helaena's twin, (Y/N), greeted him, his head tilted downwards from his spot on the couch as he brushed out the knots in Helaena's hair until her silver hair was smooth and detangled enough to braid. He set the brush aside and began braiding, a process he'd long become acquainted with when young Helaena refused to be touched by the maids. "Do you require something?"

"I wished to see how our sister was doing," Aemond replied and clasped his hands behind his back, grimacing when his words brought no reaction out of their sister. She'd always been a girl of little words but she never failed to at least offer acknowledgment with short words or glances. Helaena merely continued to thread her needle through the fabric.

"She is tired, Aemond. We all are." (Y/N) spoke, finishing the braid and letting it rest along Helaena's back. He leaned forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to the top of her head, his hands sliding down to cup her elbows and help her rise onto her swaying feet. Aemond made no move to offer his help, for he knew it'd be rejected whilst Helaena remained in such a state. 

Aemond lowered his gaze to the floor and stepped aside, his head bowed as (Y/N) led Helaena to her bed and helped tug the covers up to her waist. He offered quiet words of comfort before peeling himself from the edge of the bed and approaching Aemond, casting him a brief glance as the two stepped outside.

(Y/N) lingered until the doors to her bedchambers shut and the guards resumed their positions, his arms folding over his chest and face unreadable, as was typical of his brother. The twins had always been an unpredictable sort, no one ever truly deciphering what went through their minds. Aemond found it troubling at times, being unable to read him as he did Aegon, but he trusted him regardless. 

"Where was Cole, I wonder." (Y/N) simply said, his feet moving and voice devoid of everything but a flicker of annoyance that tugged Aemond's attention toward him. The one-eyed prince caught up with his older brother in quick strides, the direction they headed in being toward (Y/N)'s own chambers.

"He claimed to be abed." (Y/N)'s lips pressed into a line at his response. Aemond's brow twitched upward. "Cole is-"

"Cole is but a child surrounded by toys yet desires the prettiest one, one that belongs to another and should never be allowed into his foolish hands." His brother looked him directly in the eye when the doors to his chambers were opened for him, violet eyes as cold as ever. "He is pathetic."

Aemond swiped his tongue over his dry lips and followed his brother inside the room, his fingers tightening around his wrist. "Do you speak of Ser Criston... or me, dear brother?" He asked once the doors shut, leaving them in the silence of (Y/N)'s bedchambers, the air as chilly as the attitude of the older Targaryen. (Y/N) scoffed quietly and poured himself tea that'd no doubt gone tepid in his absence. "Have I not served our King faithfully enough?"

The prettily decorated teapot clattered against the wood of the table it'd sat upon, (Y/N)'s head raising to stare at Aemond. "Ao tymptan Jaes se vēttan aōla iā mittys." Aemond could hear the anger in his tone, barely contained but somehow pushed back to slowly drip through. "The boy you needlessly slaughtered was no Velaryon but he was our sister's child. Īlva ānogar. They killed Jaehaerys to avenge that child, Aemond. Helaena paid the consequences of your actions."

"Would you have preferred they kill me instead, then?" Aemond bristled.

"I would have preferred hearing of your success at Storm's End and how the princeling returned to Dragonstone without an alliance." (Y/N) snapped back, curling his fingers around his teacup and sipping from its contents. Aemond inhaled deeply, his jaw clenching and unclenching; teeth slowly grinding together and the tension in his shoulders easing into a sag. 

Aemond walked forward, his hand lifting to tug the eyepatch from his face and letting it fall onto the table as he took a seat. (Y/N) followed his movements with keen eyes and a deep frown, one of the few times his brother so outwardly showed his disapproval toward him. They stared at each other for a few quiet moments, the coin searing a hole through Aemond's pocket. 

"I only meant to frighten him. I did not wish such harm upon him; I did not want him dead or gravelly injured. I... feel sorry for how things occurred between him and I. I did not... I did not mean to bring pain upon Helaena or Aegon." Aemond leaned forward, broad hands pressing into the back of (Y/N)'s thighs to pull him closer gently whilst his forehead rested along his lower stomach. He exhaled softly when (Y/N) placed his palm upon the back of Aemond's head, fingers running through his hair. "I allowed foolish emotions to best me." 

"Foolish emotions you've stewed in for years, Aemond. You are man-grown and a prince... a third-born son who will never sit the throne." His nostrils flared with a sharp inhale of air and he leaned away, back pressing into the chair and lips pressing tightly together. (Y/N) watched him, palm pressing back the strands that went astray with his movements before he curled his fingers around Aemond's chin and forced him to keep his head tilted upwards. "I am the King's heir, now that they've killed our poor nephew, just as you killed the other. Aegon had potential, Aemond, whether you believe it or not." 

"He is a drunk-"

"Yes, but he pleased the smallfolk before sinking into his cups. They were happy and eager to accept him as their ruler. He will now ignore them, and with the ever-impulsive Cole at his side... it will not be long before we are ruined by one or the other, Aemond." (Y/N)'s thumb delicately stroked along his cheek, his eyes softening but the coldness tittering at the edges. Aemond leaned into his touch, his knitted brows easing as he soaked in the words of his brother.

"Aegon cannot rule, and neither can Cole," Aemond murmured, pressing himself further into (Y/N)'s hand when his brother gave a nod. "What is it you believe we must do?"

"Rook's Nest. Our sister will not be allowed to turn her cheek away when Cole and Uncle's army descends upon it, and neither will Aegon. He desires to prove himself, you've seen it. He'll try to in battle... and when he does, he must.. fall to injury. Vhagar knows the taste of war, and with you as her rider, Cole will have no choice but to ignore whatever it is you do. The Council will favor me over Mother as regent whilst Aegon recovers."

"And what will you do once you are named Prince Regent?" 

(Y/N)'s lips curled upward and he bent down, both hands cupping Aemond's face to press their lips together. The action caught him by surprise, but the twinge of longing for a loving hand shot through his veins. The teachings from the septas and maesters told him it was wrong, but Targaryens were no ordinary men; the blood of the dragon coursed through them. Aemond pushed into him, rising from his chair to encircle his arms around (Y/N)'s waist. (Y/N)'s grip tightened and he forced Aemond to lean back.

"You... will be named Hand." (Y/N) told him, and Aemond's shoulders straightened, his single violet eye gleaming. He'd always be meant for such a position, and as much as Cole had been a father to him, he was still the mere son of a steward; someone hardly meant for the position of Hand.

(Y/N)'s grip loosened into a gentle touch, coaxing Aemond to lean into it once more. "I will not risk the fall of this family, Aemond, not like this. Enough of our sacred blood has been spilled. I will do what our mother and brother and grandsire failed to do. If Rhaenyra has withheld as much as she has in search of peace, I will test how desperate she is to obtain it."

[hyohaehyuk]

trulyafrojay IG Story

#InterviewWithTheVampire cast.

Via @ trulyafrojay on Instagram Stories.

[sanesaviour]

Danny☀️

Here are some headcanons about him and other characters:

1. He spend most of his life in K’un Lun, so living in New York is big culture shock for him, feels like different universe for him and at first he was really struggling with New Yorks pace (like K’un Lun is definition of patience and peace while New York is complete chaos), he is still learning how juggle his superhero duties, training and just living in such a chaotic city without feeling overwelmed. Also the technology and social media is wild west for him, even tho he tries really hard to understand it better and is really interested in modern technology he always ends up in situarions like: ,,why is my phone working so slow?” Turns out he has open like 100 tabs… but somehow he is really good at using his mp3 player (he really loves music and has very questionable taste in it)

2. He is super chill about everything, he have that laid-back attitude and also fashion, like he wears very loose comfy clothes and tries to just blend in (he fails) and I like to think like he is popular at school but on accident and he doesn’t even realize it coz everyone just like how chill he is all the time. Most of his teammates are jealous of this and he doesn’t get why, he is just too clueless

3. Vegan (I thought this was just my headcannon but after starting S2 turns out it’s actually cannon in show too lol)

4. Danny is fist one to accept Peter as new teammate but also as friend, he is only one who has beenkind to him since beggining, they are really good friends even tho most of the time they are alone together they don’t talk just vibe together

5. Danny teaches Luke how to be more book smart and luke teaches danny street smarts, they are best bros actually and later ends up on lot of missons together. And I feel like Luke likes to joke about Danny’s fancy origins like: “Did you learned this moves while sipping on some mystical tea and writing poetry?” Danny never gets those are jokes and is always like: “yea, how did you know? :D”

6. Ava and Danny both likes to read, they both can go hours withour saying anything and just reading next to each other… others likes to point out that they are like grandparents when they do that, also I think being disturbed while reading only thing that can get danny out of his chill guy mood. While Ava does that “shhhhh” thing while being disturbed Danny just stare at them with really cold and done expression which says: are you gonna shut up?

7. Sam is the one who actually teaches Danny about modern technologies and stuff. He also gives Danny nicknames like for example Zen guy… he likes to make fun of him but he secretly admires how cool Danny can be with his whole mystical vibe around him and on the other other hand Danny admires Sam’s jokes and even sarcasm (when he finally gets the whole concept about it) and is very fast to learn those skills from him (Peter thinks Sam is ruining him lol)

8. Okay this one is bit awkward but I think lot I can’t be the only one who thought about this… so I remember during history classes it was mentioned multiple times that most monks practice celibacy and some of them don’t even come to contact with woman for most of their life’s… SO- I think that at beginning Danny don’t really think about relationships, don’t mind spending time with someone of opposite gender, he views men and women as equals and he doesn’t feel any attraction to anyone, he is very focused on training… ofc due to his “popularity” some people try to hit on him but again he is clueless about it, but at some point someone will make it very obvious that they are into him and he will do nothing about it but this moment will start his overthinking literally every human interaction phase and internal morality fight like he really would like to experience date but his mind is always like “why are you thinking about this? You are such a disgrace to K’un Lun!!!” Also he would go from talking w everyone same way to being speechless and all flustered around opposite gender… once that would happened even with Ava and her first thought about it would be something like he have some problem with her so she wouldn’t let him be until he tells her what’s wrong with him, so basically she would force him to spill the truth… then she would just laugh and make puns about it really often in front of others and he always tries to stop her so it looks like it’s some stupid inside joke of theirs which no one else gets