#i don’t even know how it managed to happened to like that

[freyito]

ꜱᴘᴀʀᴋꜱ ꜰʟʏ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ inspo: BOOTHILL DAY!!!

★ summary: Boothill tends to be a little clingy when he's charging, cause he has nothing to do! C'mon, kiss him! Nothing'll happen, he promises!

✧ a/n: happy belated boothill day :')... i currently have him e5s1 but im going for e6, i might try and get s2... if you havent gotten boothill yet, may you all be boothill havers!!!!

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, short n sweet, proofread

✎ wc: 1k

Boothill has nothing to do when he’s charging, especially when he’s at home. Which should be a blessing, he doesn’t have to sit in the middle of nowhere for at least two hours. You could get him all sorts of things to keep himself occupied at home, cards, board games, pull up some old western, and he’d still complain about how bored he is.  Not to mention, he’s especially clingy. He protests if you leave his sight for a second.

You had gotten home after a long day of work, tired out and aching. Boothill was on the couch, face down, grumbling about something while charging. He just looks sooooo miserable, hair cascading over his face, messy, as if he had just woken up from a nap. He kicks his feet like a kid, the motion occupying him.

Yet when he hears you come home, his head pops up like a dog, and if he was one, his tail would be wagging. His face lights up immediately and pushes his hair to the side, running his fingers through it and petting it down to make sure he doesn’t look like too much of a mess. You don’t get a chance to complain about your day before he’s beckoning you closer, cursed by the distance between you two and his damn charging cable.

“C’mere,” Boothill’s sheepish smile is quickly replaced with that confident toothy grin you’ve come to know as home. “I’ve been soooo lonely, buttercup…”

Boothill could support you on his own easily, you wouldn’t have to work a day in your life, but you still chose to work, to give you some semblance of normalcy. There was nothing wrong with some extra cash in your pocket, anyways. Even if Boothill had complained that sitting still in one place would set the IPC off on him and probably you, too. He was never home much, anyways, so you felt as if there was no need to worry.

You saunter over to Boothill, sitting down in his lap, the cowboy wrapping his arms around you near immediately. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, letting out a low hum of content. His hands roam your body, no idea what he was searching for, he just had the need to feel. He himself visibly relaxes as he does so, content to have you home and in his arms once more. You don’t have much to say– not that you need to– and simply enjoy the moment, watching as his hands glide from your hips to your stomach, before pulling you impossibly closer and squeezing you like you were a teddy bear.

“Missed you…” He mumbles once more, leaning over your shoulder and trailing kisses down your cheek, enjoying the warmth of human skin once more. If you were to point out how clingy he was, he’d adamantly deny the fact, yet would still find a way to get all up in your DNA.

Slowly, he trails the kisses from your cheek to your lips, and when your lips meet, sparks fly, literally. Or atleast, it feels like it. You pull away abruptly with a small ‘ow’, placing a hand over your mouth. Boothill gives you a confused and dejected look, before the lightbulb goes off in his head.

“What? Am I… electrifyin’?” He asks with a heavy voice, laden with exhaustion (can he even feel that?) and mirth. You can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at the silly pun, and he leans in for another kiss. You try to avoid it, but he catches you, and places another shocking kiss on your lips. After several more, you manage to wrench yourself free from his grip pushing yourself off of him. “Awh, c’mon! Don’t just–”

“Nuh uh,” You shush him, crossing your arms, turning your head, and pouting. “I’ll kiss you after you finish charging.”

“Wait, c’mooon!” Boothill starts, sitting up from the couch and reaching for you. His hands graze over your shoulder, yet he was unable to move further due to the limits of his charging cable. You took one teeny tiny step back so you were just out of reach. “Don’t do this, baby! Pleaaase!”

Boothill begs you like you were breaking up with him, he’s one step away from getting on his knees and groveling for you to come back… as in step closer. He does his best to give you puppy eyes, but the most that does is unsettle you a little, the way his eye locks on with you and glowing a faint red. All you do is stand there and watch, taking another step back.

“Fudge…. c’mon, c’mon, c’mon…! Ain’t I just the sweetest?” He desperately pleads his case, as if you being in his arms is the only way he could possibly live. “I won’t kiss you ‘til I’m done charging! I swear! Just let me hold you? Pretty pretty muddle-fudgin’ please?”

His pleas fall on deaf ears as you turn on your heels to leave him whining and grumbling, deciding that you would like to make dinner. Perhaps wind down a little after work, maybe read a book… all things Boothill tried to protest, but ultimately, after ten minutes of you in the kitchen making yourself food, he finally went quiet.

When you come out of the kitchen, bowl of pasta in hand, he’s sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, pouting like a child. He was muttering things to himself, some that you caught which were curses, sometimes your name, and other words. When you come into the living room, he turns his head and gives you the silent treatment for once. You don’t mind this, sitting down on an armchair across from him, eating your food in silence.

Boothill can’t stay silent forever, nor can he wallow forever. Only after five minutes of you being there, he breaks, staring you down with his attempt at puppy eyes once more. Charging takes forever, and he wants to have you in his arms now. He can run on 40% battery for a little while, anyways. He unlatches the charging cable and practically runs over to you (over such a short distance…), cupping your cheek and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“One more kiss? Pretty pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[pathologicalreid]

Comforting spencer 🙏🙏 Maybe after the Tobias thing or something, sorry if this is too vague 😭

your needs, my needs | S.R.

who? spencer reid x gn!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: takes place following 3x12 "3rd life", spoilers for 2x15 "revelations", drug addiction, mentions NA and narcan word count: 1.74k a/n: hey anon! this is kind of too vague BUT i've had this idea marinating in my brain for so long and i just needed to find a place for it in the timeline! i hope this works for you! thank you for requesting!

Halfway down his arm, in the crook of his elbow, your boyfriend had a scar.

It was left by someone who was now dead and had been for months. The pink, new skin would eventually fade, but you’d always see it there.

The memory of Tobias Hankel would always haunt your relationship, but the two of you would manage to create new memories in the wake of everything that he had almost destroyed.

Hanging up your keys next to the front door, you note the silence of the apartment, there was no radio playing, no turning of book pages, and yet, you glanced over at the couch, seeing Spencer’s signature mismatched socks hanging over the edge of the couch.

Quietly, you set your bag down before you made your way over to the couch expecting to find Spencer asleep, but you’re surprised when deep brown eyes look back at you. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, a book tucked in the crook of his arm like he had given up on reading for the evening. “Hi, love,” you whispered, making your way around the back of the couch and squatting next to him, studying his expression intently. “How was work?”

He closed his eyes as you reached out and smoothed his hair back, “Hi,” he responded. His voice was raspy like it had been a while since he used it. You had woken up in an empty bed this morning, so the BAU must’ve arrived home from Chula Vista at some point while you were at work.

Spencer didn’t offer any other conversation. He didn’t tell you how work was. He didn’t ask you how work was. Sadly, you pressed your lips together in a thin, white line and tilted your head to the side, “What happened?”

“I’m tired,” he answered, averting his eyes from yours as he deflected. The avoidance was telling enough, you knew what was going through his mind. “I need to take a shower,” he admitted, his voice softening with use.

You raised your eyebrows curiously at him, despite the fact that he wouldn’t look at you, “Did you want me to leave you be for a while?” You asked, letting him know that you could keep your distance, but you wouldn’t leave him alone – not when he was like this.

His lips parted as he prepared to answer, “I don’t want to go into the bathroom,” he admitted meekly.

A deep understanding filled your chest. The bathroom was where you first figured out his addiction. The bathroom was where you now kept Narcan in the medicine cabinet. “Did you want me to go in with you?” You asked him a new question, hoping you could somehow gently guide him to an answer.

“I just don’t want to go in,” he said, voice raising in frustration before he checked himself, “I don’t want to be in a bathroom.”

You steeled your expression, not wanting him to know that you caught on the way he said a bathroom instead of the bathroom that time. “Alright,” you told him, pushing up on your knees so that you could stand and head into your shared bathroom. Going into the shower, you reached in and grabbed Spencer’s shampoo and conditioner, pulling a towel from the linen closet before you walked back out, passing him on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen.

Setting everything down on the counter you went back to the bedroom, closing the door to the ensuite before calling Spencer over. You heard heavy footsteps approach the bedroom before your boyfriend showed up in the doorway, “What is it?”

“Change into more comfortable clothes, then I can wash your hair in the kitchen sink,” you told him insistently, taking up a tone that told him you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Reaching into his side of the dresser, you pulled out a pair of flannel pajama pants while he stripped himself of his work clothes. Making sure he was moving, you followed suit, pulling off your work pants before resorting to sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

He grumbled as you herded him into the kitchen, sock-covered feet shuffling on the tile floor. Despite giving you a look when you instructed him to lie down on the counter, Spencer did so without much of a challenge. As you flipped on the tap, he settled on the laminate surface, “What are you doing?” He asked, frowning at you as you gently took his glasses off and placed the thick, black frames on the opposite side of the basin.

You hummed, taking the towel and tucking it underneath Spencer’s neck so the edge of the counter didn’t hurt him, “I don’t want to get soap and water all over your glasses.”

With furrowed brows, he looked up at you, “I won’t be able to see without my glasses,” he informed you.

“Then you’ll have to use that memory of yours to remember just how good-looking I am,” you responded earnestly, refraining from victoriously throwing your hands in the air when a small smile bloomed on his face.

Sighing, he relaxed against the hard surface of the counter. Too tall to fully lay down, he kept his legs folded up at the edge. It looked awkward, but if he was comfortable, who were you to judge?

Checking the temperature of the water with your hand, you took the sprayer in your hand and quickly sprayed a bit of water on Spencer’s hair, “Is that too hot?” You asked softly, watching his face for any kind of reaction.

Spencer quickly shook his head at you, “No, that’s good.” His answer prompted you to continue wetting his hair, using the sprayer before setting it down and taking his shampoo in your hands.

Lathering a dollop in between your palms, you slowly started to work it into his hair, he closed his eyes as you massaged the shampoo into his hair, focusing on his scalp as you did so. You smiled softly at the way he visibly relaxed, watching the way peace overtook him as a result of the simple service of having his hair washed.

Using your hand to protect his face from soap and water, you took the handheld sprayer back in your hand and rinsed the shampoo from his hair, the suds slipping from the locks in a waterfall. Taking a moment, you elected for another round of shampoo, squirting the same amount in your palm before repeating the process.

In your periphery, you noticed Spencer fiddling with something in his hand, a flash of gold caused your heart to clench while he flipped the coin through his fingers. His six-month NA chip.

Deciding against mentioning it, you continued working your fingers through his hair, the second round of shampoo foaming up even more than the first had, leading you to rinse your hands off before going back for the sprayer. Using your hand, you made sure to get all of the remaining shampoo from his hair before gently wringing his hair dry.

Putting a small amount of conditioner on your fingers, you deftly worked the product through the ends of Spencer’s hair, “Your hair’s getting long,” you observed aloud. “Did you want to cut it or keep growing it out?”

Not opening his eyes, Spencer responded, “Not sure yet,” he mumbled, clearly still enjoying your ministrations on his hair.

Finger-combing the conditioner through his hair, you nodded to yourself, “If you want to cut it, just let me know and I can help.”

In response, he nodded slightly while you tried to work through a small knot in his hair, “I thought I could stop him.”

Your movements faltered at the sudden change in subject, but you quickly regained your footing and continued, “You can’t save everyone.”

“I hate that,” he told you. Spencer had a lot of anger, it was never directed at you, it was directed toward the world, but that didn’t mean you liked it.

Letting the conditioner sit in his hair, you rinsed the product off of your hands before turning the tap off. “Do you need to go to a meeting?” You asked him gently, reaching over to seal the caps to the shampoo and conditioner before glancing at your boyfriend.

Mentally, you recalled where you had set your keys and bag when you got home, just in case you needed to take him away, “I’ll go tomorrow,” he answered.

His usual NA group met on Wednesdays, so it made sense that he’d want to go to that group. It didn’t mean you wouldn’t keep an eye on him tonight. “Okay,” you murmured softly, flipping the tap back on before you proceeded to rinse the conditioner from his hair, using your fingers to get all of the product from his silky brown strands.

Adjusting the temperature slightly, you focused your energy on getting the product out, settling into a comfortable silence until you felt satisfied, shutting off the water and wringing the water out as best you could with your hands.

You carefully coaxed the towel from where it rested beneath his neck, getting him to sit up while you towel-dried his hair. Pulling the cotton off of his head, you left his damp hair sticking every which way as you reached over to return his glasses to him, “Do you feel any better?” You asked, refraining from reaching up and touching him, you put your hands behind your back.

He nodded softly, settling his glasses on his face and blinking as his eyes focused. Spencer surprised you when he reached out for you, sitting up and leaving his legs dangling off of the edge of the counter, he parted his knees and pulled you so that your body was flush with the counter, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I love you,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

Burying your face in his shoulder, you breathed in the all-too-familiar scent of his shampoo and conditioner and leaned into his embrace, “I love you too, Spence.” Tears pricked your eyes, and you pulled away from him before any could trickle down your cheeks. “Come sit down on the couch, I’ll brush your hair out.”

A small, content smile grew on his face, nodding at you before he pushed himself off of the counter, following your footsteps back into the living room.

[toruslvt]

  ִֶָ a begining ↪ last part of mafia boss sukuna.

⋆ fluff, basically your life with Sukuna and your baby, I know reader had a bad pregnancy in the previous part but let's forget about that for the sake of a happy ending and a man obsessed with giving you more babies.

thank you all for joining me in this au ‹3 this is the end of mafia boss sukuna, next posts will be the spin offs but please do not hesitate in sending me your ideas + additions ! I'll happily add them to the masterlist as well.

the pristine black shirt was always two buttons open starting from the collar, a matching jacket suit and tailored pants giving Sukuna his usual outfit for each reunion, gold watch and bright rings, although none as bright as your wedding band, and.... a pink band-aid?

“um, boss...” one of his subordinates speaks, his eyes drifting down to the sticky pink band on Sukuna’s hand.

yet Sukuna remains unbothered, a cold stare directed towards the man that dared speak, “does it bother you?” voice as icy as his eyes.

the man immediately lowers his head, unable to refute or dare utter another word through the rest of the reunion.

no one in the gang even considered there could be a change in their boss behavior though the multiple changes happening in his life, of course, the only thing that changed was the way his gaze softened and voice lowered when speaking to you and your baby, not as if his men expected a cute talk directed to them too.

“you should have waited at home” is what Sukuna says, barely managing to finish his sentence before your baby girl is babbling a ‘daddy!’ with grabby hands and a matching bandaid on her knee, not as if she was hurt, but the toddler wanted to match her adored dad, and of course, Sukuna’s face lights up, grabbing and tossing her in the air for a giggle to be heard the room before your husband is crushing your lips with his in a brief but passionate kiss.

“someone was too eager to see her daddy” is what you say, passing the toy your daughter forgot in your arms while she tossed herself at Sukuna.

“does that include you?” he asks with that characteristic smirk of his, covering your daughter’s ears and pressing her against his chest so she doesn’t hear how foul mouthed her dad is, but you stop the man before he gets to speak with a hand on his mouth.

“don’t finish that idea”

and your husband chuckles behind your palm, giving it a soft kiss before pulling it down and tangling his fingers with yours, “i’ll finish it once we’re home”

he doesn’t though, since upon entering the mansion you resided at, your daughter, —just like her father, quickly grabbed both of your hands and begged to have a tea party, setting out the cute plastic tea set in a tiny table and matching chairs that barely fitted Sukuna’s large frame, having him bent and with knees tucked against his chest to ‘sit properly’ like your daughter scolded.

a pink boa and matching princess crown were set on Sukuna’s head, this time it was an idea of yours that you quietly whispered in the kid’s ear, a private mommy-daughter prank to the man.

your husband doesn’t complain, nor refuses to do anything your daughter wants, instead he gives you a fond look as he sees you whispering, you both truly got him wrapped around your fingers.

“i’m sorry to interrupt you, boss” one of his men spoke gently knocking on the open door, and although the man remained stoic, there was a slight amused look in his eyes, and Sukuna wondered if he should fire or kill the man, ultimately deciding to be merciful for once and let him live.

“make it quick” Sukuna says, standing up with a proper apology to the ladies sitting at the plastic table, and just as requested, the subordinate doesn’t take long to deliver the message, giving you ample time to indulge in your daughter’s ideas until she got sleepier and sleepier.

“you know...” Sukuna starts, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, both laying in bed after a long day, “we should have another”

“you’re joking” you say, turning to look at him, “did you forget how bad the pregnancy was?”

“well... you’re right” he murmurs, mimicking your position and placing a hand on your belly, “but... if you change your mind... i’ll be more than happy to put another baby in you”

🔖♡ @yuujispinkhair @valleydoli @hyeinwluv85s @sadmonke @ryomance @inzanekillian @emilymikado @r-ryuko09 @ichorstainedskin @acidrefiux @tadabzzzbee @thejujvtsupost

[loveinhawkins]

The squeak of Dustin’s sneakers fades away as he heads back to the hospital parking lot, where his mom’s waiting for him.

Eddie watches the door to his room swing shut—the movement as boisterous as Dustin’s entrance had been; for the whole visit, he’d acted almost as if nothing had ever happened.

“You know,” he says once the door’s fully closed, “I kinda thought he hated me.”

He tries to make it come out like a joke—maybe then, it won’t hurt quite as much. He should’ve known that Steve would see straight through it.

“That’s not fair,” Steve says quietly, from where he sits in the corner of the room—arms folded, eyes sharp.

The silence feels damning. Eddie doesn’t dare break it: just sits there and lets it sting.

But then—

“That’s not fair,” Steve repeats, a little softer, “to him or to you.”

Eddie can’t look him in the eye. If he does, he’s going to say something that’s true but hurtful nonetheless—and God knows, he’s done more than enough damage already.

Steve sighs. Eddie can’t work out how to read him.

Maybe if he just keeps staring at the clock on the wall, Steve will give up and leave, and Eddie can keep it together until he knows that he’s alone.

“When are you going to stop?” Steve says and, damn it, Eddie’s resolve breaks in an instant; his head turns, but now Steve’s the one who’s not looking, his gaze fixed on the ceiling like he’s trying to memorise it.

(Fourteen hairline cracks on the tiles. Eddie’s counted.)

“Stop what, Steve?” Eddie says shortly. Maybe this will work instead: if he manages to hold that awful, flat tone for long enough—

“When are you going to stop punishing yourself?” Steve says. His eyes flicker across the ceiling tiles.

Eddie swallows. Forces out, hoarse, “That’s not—”

“Not what?” Steve interrupts. “Not what you’re doing?” He shakes his head a little, and his voice lowers. “You’re acting like they’re right.”

Eddie grits his teeth; he asks even though he already knows. “Like who—”

“You do know you didn’t kill anyone, right?” Steve says bluntly.

For a horrible moment, Eddie can’t breathe. “I—yes,” he says; it’s wrenched out of him like an involuntary reflex, the thought playing in his head over and over at the boathouse, then at Skull Rock—I didn’t do it, I didn’t, please, please—until it sounded less and less like the truth, and more like desperation.

“Then what?” Steve says. His head tilts down—he looks right at Eddie, eyes blazing like a challenge. “What is it? What is so fucking terrible, Eddie, that you’d—”

“What d’you want me to say, man?” Eddie says, exhausted. “I—I hurt—”

His voice cracks; he can’t get through it, can only think about what he wasn’t meant to have seen: a nurse opening his door too wide, and in that split second, catching a glimpse of Dustin frozen in the hallway, Steve crouched down in front of him, speaking too softly to hear; how Dustin’s shoulders shook; you did this, you—

“You don’t think I wish I could take it back?” Steve says.

The words pull Eddie right out of his head. Cautiously, he asks, “What?”

“Because I would,” Steve continues, like Eddie hasn’t said anything. “I’d take it back in a second.” There’s a harsh scraping sound: the chair legs dragging against the floor as Steve stands, like he suddenly can’t bear being still. “I think about it every day. If I hadn’t—” He stops abruptly, like the words have got stuck somewhere painful. His jaw works once, twice. “If I hadn’t left you to—”

“Don’t,” Eddie gets out, pleading. His hand twitches on the bedsheets uselessly; he’s too far away to…

In so many ways, he wishes he was stronger.

“Steve, you—you can’t do that to your—”

“Right,” Steve cuts across with a humourless laugh, “yeah, exactly,” and Eddie gets the feeling that he’s walked right into a trap without realising. “So you don’t get to, either.”

”Steve—”

“No! No, I’m not gonna just watch you fucking hate yourself for—for what? For being scared? For doing the best you could to—” Steve shakes his head again. “Dustin, he—he knows you were… I would’ve done the same thing.”

Eddie can hardly argue the point. He can hear from the strain in Steve’s voice just how much he means it.

And then Steve scoffs slightly, glancing up at the ceiling again—a fragile smile, like it’s only there to keep himself from crying.

“There’s—there’s so much—God.” He drags a hand down his face. “So much blame, Eddie. All the time.” He gets that awful, distant look to his eyes, the one that reminds Eddie that he was thrown into a story in its last horrific chapter; there are things he doesn’t know, but when Steve looks at him, he can feel an echo of the pain in his chest. “And I’m so sick of it.”

“I’m—”

But Steve interrupts before Eddie can voice it: a weak laugh then, “Jesus Christ, haven’t you been listening? Don’t apologise. It’s enough that—that you’re alive.” Steve swallows, steps back. Jerks his head to the door, “Dustin—he’ll be okay, I swear, just give it time. Before you—it kinda, uh. It was awful?” His voice goes up, but not in question, not really: more like he’s the one trying to joke around it, now—because anything else is too much.

It’s another story Eddie isn’t privy to. But he can read it in the way Steve’s eyes trace the ceiling. In soft words exchanged just before a hospital room.

The guilt doesn’t fade, not yet. But its grip eases around his heart. Makes room for…

“Hey,” Steve says shakily, like he’s crying, too. “Eddie, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Hands are on Eddie’s face, and maybe it should be overwhelming—but all Eddie can feel is something like forgiveness.

“It’s enough,” Steve whispers. “Eddie, I promise you. Please. Please let it be enough.”

Eddie can’t speak. But he gathers Steve’s shirt in his fist; and you, he means, and you.

And maybe Steve hears it, because he sighs like he’s finally let go of something—like he, too, has been cleansed.

[bellsmess]

Whenever someone calls Charles Rowland straight, an angel dies.

What straight guy tells his best friend who just confessed to him that there's no one else – no one – he would go to Hell for. And that they have forever to figure out what that means. You don’t get his repressed bisexuality like I do!

Even modern bisexuals (I may or may not be speaking from personal experience) are oblivious to the fact they're bi because heteronormative roles are so engraved in our minds. When you're attracted to other genders, it's easy to miss a same-sex crush, only then to realise that oh, it wasn’t just admiration, it was attraction.

Charles, having grown up at the height of the AIDS crisis, with an abusive and probably homophobic father, killed by racist bullies? That would make anyone repress any gay feelings. Especially if you experience crushes on people with a different sex to you.

Charles sees Crystal and takes his chance. He's enamoured with this smart, strong-willed, pretty girl who can see him not only in a physical sense, but pays attention to him. He longs to be loved. Then he says the infamous "That sounds alot like you, doesn't it? Maybe that's why I like her so much" line. What an icon. And he compares himself and his best friend to the greatest love story of all time, Orpheus and Euridyce's.

When Edwin confesses to him, he doesn't rule out the possibility of returning these feelings. He knows they're already devoted to each other. They've already had 30 years of companionship and solving cases together.

"As long as I have my best mate and a case to solve, I'm good."

Being with Edwin is simple. They solve cases, help others, run away from Death. It's a simple existance. Charles gave up eternity to be with Edwin, because he was kind to him when he was dying. Charles finds him fun, wants to protect him, knows that Edwin is a kind and good person. One that Charles wants to be.

"Bad guys don't worry about being bad guys. And you, Charles Rowland, are the best person I know."

Crystal's role is very important in changing the dynamic between Edwin and Charles. Not only because Charles falls for her, but because she opens them up. She digs out their repressed feelings and trauma. Charles finally deals with his dad's abuse, his happy-go-lucky mask falls. She points it out to Edwin. Charles kept it up so well because Edwin didn't press it, but Crystal does. And Charles finally lets himself process what happened to him, and how that affects his relationships.

Charles never saw genuine love between his parents, and that affects how he views relationships. It impacts how he forms them, too. But he's a loverboy, he longs to be loved, he falls easily. Why wouldn’t he fall for someone who stuck to his side for 30 years?

Crystal and Monty's roles mirror each other – they help the boys figure out their feelings and desires. Crystal makes Edwin jealous that there's someone else Charles cares about in the same sense he cares for Edwin. The Cat King helps Edwin discover desire, Monty – genuine love. As Charles' and Crystal's relationship kickstarts (albeit ends as quickly) and Monty persues Edwin, he discovers the depth of his feelings.

"These complicated feelings that you have? They're for Charles."

I would love to see their wants explored more in the future season(s, hopefully multiple). Charles giving into desire with Desire of the Endless' guidance? Yes please.

I simply cannot believe that anyone would doubt Painland/Payneland endgame. They're everything to each other. They're a constant presence, reassurance, and love. Platonic, romantic, it doesn't matter. Their bond is so deep and genuine that immortal beings see it and leave them be, in the afterlife they chose for each other. Their love is so deep it transcends planes: from mortal plane to Hell, it leads Charles to Edwin. Charles is not Orpheus, when he turns around to hear Edwin out on the staircase from Hell, he manages to get him out. And they have literally forever for each other.

[babybells123]

I recently posted about Sansa Stark on TikTok particularly concerning themes of beauty, love and romanticism (Jonsa if you SQUINT)!! It’s gotten over 2000 likes so far, and the comments have all been positive, but I just received a comment saying “Aegon VI will save her” and had to resist the urge to scratch my eyes out …

Look, I for one want nothing more than for Sansa to be with a man who loves her undoubtedly (and chooses her over her claim, countering all the previous men who have been betrothed to/married to/attempted to abuse Sansa). But I find it incredibly ironic that this is likely an individual who is aware of the Ashford Tourney (hell, maybe they’re even aware of the really subtle Targaryen imagery in Sansa’a chapters - but only if they’re in conjunction with Aegon VI, certainly not the secret cousin who just so happens to also be a Targaryen)… but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they are an alt shift x fan who has watched his brief Ashford Tourney video which barely scratches the surface of the theory (and I too, enjoy Alt’s videos so don’t get me wrong here) but here’s what bothers me - why is the fandom so incredibly intent on ‘proving’ that it is Aegon?

He could be the loveliest, kindest man alive and I still wouldn’t budge on my stance of this marriage doing absolutely nothing to progress Sansa’s narrative arc organically.

How does it challenge her belief of conventionality? Particularly concerning southern ideals of beauty? What is the whole point of Sansa retracting from her current journey, travelling South yet again to marry a man whom she’s never met before? We’ve already been made privy to how wary Sansa is of Harry the Heir, for he could be a “comely monster,” she knows that beauty is deceptive - so already she’d be experiencing those similar feelings of despair … What purpose would it serve to send Sansa back to King’s Landing? A place where she was abused and married against her will? The place where her father was murdered in front of her eyes? The place where she was hostage with no true friends and no family to trust or rely on? Walking on eggshells every day of her life? These are all negative associations. Anyone with eyes and a brain can see that Sansa’a arc is pointing North.

This is the same girl who spends hours building a scale model of her home, Winterfell - in the snow. This is the same girl who refers to herself as the blood of Winterfell, the daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn - who derives strength from that in the face of her abuser. This is the same girl who at the age of 11, manages to dissociate when faced with the head of her father on a spike, looking North and North until she can see Winterfell in her mind’s eye, whose direwolf - part of her soul, is buried in the North ; who to quote Ned “belongs in the North.” This is the same girl who has been passed around like a vessel of politics since her very first betrothal. Who has been viewed as nothing more than a claim to a vast Kingdom, who is not allowed to exercise that claim in her own right. Who has been denied her inheritance on the basis of her marriage to Tyrion - not just by Stannis , but also by the brother she has loved and idolised (and isn’t that just heartbreaking for Sansa?) - need I remind you of the one single person in this entire series who has not overhauled Sansa’s claim ? Despite it being the one thing he’s ever truly wanted? His hearts most intrinsic desire??

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa." (Jon I ADWD)

“Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa." (Jon IV ADWD).

I mean, those two phrases in conjunction with;

“It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love.” (Sansa VI ASOS) - which as we know, is followed by a Jon chapter just a page later.

Jon has already unknowingly refuted half of Sansa’s despairing words, as well as silently fulfilling those knightly ideals she believes no longer exist.

So yeah, it annoys me beyond belief when people “theorise” that Sansa will marry Aegon VI/Young Griff. Because it removes her agency yet again, it pushes her further away from her identity and her home that she has slowly but surely been reclaiming - she goes five steps backwards, and regardless of whether you like her character or not, from a writing perspective and how character arcs are meant to unfold - it really doesn’t make sense for her to go back to the place where she has been tormented for most of the series - but then, who am I kidding - these are the same people who don’t believe sansa is an important character and that her arc will either remain stagnant or she’ll just be pushed out of the way whilst other characters are allowed narratively conclusive endings.

But even with all this, even with Valarr Targaryen being a non-Targaryen looking prince with brown hair described as a black prince with a white guardian (gee, I wonder whose image THAT invokes), even with GRRM sitting down and writing a family tree where a Jonnel ‘One Eye’ Stark marries a half niece called Sansa Stark to solve a succession crisis. Quite literally spelling it out on paper for people this fandom just cannot come to any logical conclusions that would make sense narratively, thematically, politically and on a character level. It truly blows my mind.

*sigh.* I’m very tired.

Anyway, to quote GRRM; resolve to be Sansa Stark and take the North. ✌️

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I report to my managers about my co-worker despite him not really doing anything yet?

At my job there’s this one guy (40 something M) who has said some unhinged things, the first thing he ever said to me was telling me masks don’t work the one time I came into work sick. He’s apparently said some shit about the “trans lifestyle”, dislikes the Barbie movie and was looking at the only other guy at the table at the time for like back up and thinks Disney shouldn’t have changed their rules about visible tattoos, facial hair and men having long hair and told me about how one time he fed people deer meat and told them it was steak and tried to justify it by saying it was “healthier then beef” like he was doing them a favor.

I try to avoid him since I’m not a fan of his takes or his vibe

Last night as we were leaving work I (21 afab non-binary) was kind of between two hunks of people but I was pretty ahead of most people, he sped walked to catch up with me and so then it was just me and him in that area, he didn’t say anything as he approached from behind until he literally walked into a spider web and reacted to it but even then he was only like 4 feet from me by then.

Then he walked with me all the way to the parking lot and the entire time alarm bells were going off in my head and it really freaked me out and I’m not usually the type to get creeped out by people easily, i usually give people too much leeway honestly but for him my got was saying something was up with this guy.

Luckily he didn’t follow me to my car as I got away from him once we got to the wardrobe building and I got over to the co-workers who were ahead of us so I wasn’t alone with him

I feel like I should tell people about how my gut was freaking out about him but I don’t even know what I would want to happen if I did report? Plus idk what I’d say since nothing has really happened yet but like I also wanna express these warnings that went off in my head BEFORE something happens??? Like I don’t wanna get him fired but maybe just something to ensure I won’t be left alone with him or maybe have him scheduled a different shift than me or something?

I’m worried I’m just being paranoid but like I’ve never had alarm bells go off to that degree before

TLDR: my co-worker has said some weird shit including stuff about trans people and feeding people deer meat and lying about it and last night he sped walk to get over to me when I was alone and really set off just about every alarm my body has, I’m not sure if I should report this or not since well nothing has really happened yet but I also don’t wanna wait till something happens to make management aware. But I also don’t wanna ruin his career by reporting him for not really doing anything either

[youcouldmakealife]

Sven/Gérard/Yvette; almost home

Another of the Kickstarter fills, for a request for some OG OT3.

“You know,” Blair says. “As a single dude, when your friends start getting married and have kids, usually you start to drift apart.”

Sven blinks at him, feeling slow, as he so often has lately. Blair’s speaking to him, but obviously he’s the married friend with kids in this equation, in which case the single dude is — ah.

“I don’t think we’ve drifted apart,” Sven says, looking over at Gérard. Gérard smiles back, small.

He doesn’t think they’ve drifted apart at all.

“Well, no, you’ve done the exact opposite,” Blair says. “That’s kind of my point.”

“I don’t understand what your point is meant to be,” Sven says.

“Leo?” Blair says. “You want to do that English to Olsen translation for me?”

Gérard smiles again. It looks tired. Sven sympathizes. Empathizes. Whatever the word is.

Usually he’s much better at this, but he hasn’t had an undisturbed night of sleep since little Gerard was born. Well, except on the road, but that’s exhausting in its own way — his first night away from Yvette and the baby, he spent half the night texting her for updates until she told him to sleep so at least someone would.

Sven is a champion sleeper. He’s renowned for it. Or, he was. He misses it. Sleeping in. Lazy mornings in bed. Napping just for the pleasure of it, rather than because it’s the only sleep he can snatch. He knew what he was giving up, but — well, he didn’t know.

“Too tired for translation,” Gérard says.

“Me or you?” Sven asks.

“Both, probably,” Gérard says.

“Okay,” Blair says. “Uh, usually people, you know, quit having shit in common? Instead of uh, literally moving in so they can help take care of the baby? Typically?”

“Well,” Sven says. “Have they considered it? Because I do have to say, it’s significantly easier to handle childcare when you outnumber the baby three to one.”

“Neither of you look like it’s even remotely easy,” Blair says. “Did you sleep at all last night, Cap?”

“I slept six hours,” Sven says. They weren’t all consecutive, but even so, he thinks those are solid numbers for a newborn. “As did Yvette.”

Hers were consecutive, thanks to an eye mask, ear plugs, and a noise machine. He can’t begrudge her any of it; she’s the one at home taking care of little Gerard while they’re here enduring their teammates’ busybodying because the coaching staff is running late. And not just one or two, but all of them. Sven would like to think that implies something scandalous, but most likely they’re in a meeting. He’s glad they don’t have meetings. He doesn’t think he could handle meetings on six hours of sleep. Frankly he doesn’t think he could handle meetings on eight.

Or perhaps they’ve all been fired. Sven hopes that isn’t the case. He likes them, but more importantly, he thinks if he had to adjust strategies right now he might malfunction. He’s learning something new every minute, it feels like. There is no room in his brain.

“That seems like a lot for a baby?” Bowie says. “Sleep,” he adds, when Sven blinks at him. He’s lost the thread again.

“Oh,” Sven says. “Yes. That’s my point.”

“Wait,” Dan says. “How many did Gérard sleep?”

“Seven,” Gérard yawns. His were also not consecutive. He’s an unfortunately light sleeper. He’s managed to adjust on the road, so Sven hopes he’ll be able to adjust to the baby too, but it hasn’t happened yet. But it’s only been a month. It feels much, much longer than that.

“Okay,” Scott says, leaning in, his eyes a little wild. His wife’s due any day, so Sven isn’t surprised. “I don’t know if my wife would agree, but you know what? For six hours of sleep, I’m in. Gérard, what do you charge?”

“You have to name your child after him,” Cary says. “Obviously.”

“I would genuinely consider doing that,” Scott says.

“Aren’t you guys having a girl?” Bowie asks.

“Gerardina,” Scott says. “What do you say, G?”

“That sounds like an STD,” Cary says. “You’d do that to your poor kid?”

“For six hours of sleep a night?” Scott says. “Absolutely.”

“Too bad,” Sven says, reaching a hand out. Gérard’s sitting too far away for him to reach, so he lets his hand hover in the air, hoping Gérard knows that Sven’s wrapped a telepathic arm around his shoulders. He might. Gérard is an exceptional individual. “He’s mine.”

“My wife’s a good cook,” Scott says. “Those two don’t cook, do they?”

Sven stands up, walking over to Gérard’s stall so he can not so telepathically wrap a possessive arm around his shoulders. Gérard leans back into him.

“I cook,” Gérard says.

“Free meals, and I’ll name two kids after you,” Scott says. “First name, middle name, everything.”

Sven tightens his grip.

“I don’t think Sven would be willing to give me up,” Gérard says.

Sven’s glad he knows this.

The coaching staff come in then — not fired en masse, Sven is thankful to see — and everyone jumps up, the few who haven’t changed into their gear hurriedly devoting themselves to the task.

Practice is harder than usual, but easier than conversation. There’s muscle memory to it, the literal practice of hockey, broken down into its bare components. Conversation flows, it changes, he has to adapt. That’s true of hockey too, but moreso during games than in practice. He’s only scored two goals in the past six weeks, but practice, that he can do. It’s almost nice, getting to use his body, to know that everything’s still there, that it still knows what to do, especially after he found his phone in the fridge this morning. He hadn’t even realised it was missing.

“I’ve never been more popular in my life,” Gérard says on the drive back. Sven isn’t a fan of driving at the best of times, so they’ve mutually agreed Gérard should be the one behind the wheel. “Everybody wants to name their kid after me.”

Sven grunts.

“Don’t worry,” Gérard says. “I won’t take Scottie up on his offer. I know you wouldn’t know what to do without me.”

Yvette might — she’s very capable, far more comfortable with everything. She’s tired, but not totally at sea. But Sven?

“I wouldn’t have the first idea,” Sven says honestly.

“Sleep for the rest of the drive,” Gérard says.

“It’s only ten minutes,” Sven says, but he closes his eyes, and doesn’t open them again until Gérard’s gently shaking his shoulder, telling him to come inside.

[unoislazy]

Flowers In Bloom

(Jiyan x Reader)

Wuthering Waves

Spoilers for Jiyan’s story quest.

(Some of this may be inaccurate, I’ll get better at figuring out his character as time goes on so bare with me for now)

The city of Jinzhou was never described as a quiet place, in fact many believed it to be quite the opposite. People were constantly around, tending to others, doing their jobs, or even just hanging out with friends. There was always something happening in Jinzhou.

So much so that at some points, the life of such a busy city could get pretty stifling. The feeling that one must always be going somewhere and doing something, it got in the way of remembering to relax. So that’s why you had always set out to take a moment to relax amongst the flowers near the Square Bell.

It was quite a solemn area, as it was there to honour those who had fallen in battle, but the respect for the area made it all the more peaceful. On one of your many trips to this area, you had noticed a plot of plants that you couldn’t identify. They looked to be like wheat or lavender, but it was clearly not one or the other.

You decided to pay it no mind as you continued your visits until you saw the sprout of one forming. It didn’t seem like it had been watered that day, so you decided to go out of your way and water it yourself. It felt nice, almost as if you were somehow helping tend to the fallen soldiers of the area… but you didn’t know why.

From then on it just simply became a habit. Any time you’d visit you’d water the ones that seemed like the needed to be watered and sit amongst the plants to watch the sunset. That was until one day you went to do your usual visit and you saw a man who you hadn’t seen before, admiring them as he stood on the pavement in front of the bell.

You bit your lip, wondering if you should say something to him. Maybe he knew more about the flowers than you did.

“They’re lovely, aren’t they?” You asked as you walked up to the man. He didn’t react physically but it was clear he had been a bit startled by your appearance before he relaxed.

“They are.” He responded, his expression softening the slightest bit as he looked over to you. His eyes traveled down to the water pail you held in your hands which caused a small smile to appear on his face; so small one would hardly even notice it if they weren’t looking for it.

You couldn’t help but stare at the man for a moment. He looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place exactly where you had seen him from, if at all. His clothing was no where near casual, and he seemed to be wearing pieces of armour, so no doubt he was helping fight.

Your eyes slowly made their way to his face. His eyes, while a beautiful golden colour, held a very far away look as if he was lost deep in the trenches of his own mind. His hair was a teal colour, which wasn’t exactly unusual but it was styled in a way you almost thought to be odd, but it looked good though so you weren’t complaining. As you continued to quickly look over the man, he snapped back out of his thoughts and turned back to you fully.

“Do you often come here to take care of the plants?” He asked, gesturing to the water pail in your hand. His words managed to snap you out of your thoughts as well as you looked down at your own hands, having forgotten you were even holding something to begin with.

“Oh! Yes, yes I do.” You exclaimed, trying to cover up the fact that you hadn’t been entirely paying attention. It was clear the man knew but he paid no mind to it.

“I saw a sprout that needed watering one day and decided to help out. I don’t even know how long ago that was at this point.” You thought to yourself, you had been doing this for a few months, maybe a little more.

“I was wondering how they were getting replenished so often. I must thank you for your commitment.” He said, looking away for a moment to survey the area, taking in the peace and quiet that the spot had to offer before turning back to you.

“So… I assume you come here a lot as well?” You asked, trying to strike up a conversation with the mysterious man. Had you seen him fully before you spoke to him, you might’ve been too scared to say anything. He looked to be such a strict and intimidating man and yet the feelings that surrounded him as you spoke were nothing but relaxed and gentle.

“When I have time.” He answered with a nod, gesturing for you to stand more beside him. You obliged and stood next to him, now looking over the city and the plants that swayed gently in the wind before the two of you.

“I take it you have friends who have fallen then, unless I am assuming too much.” You said, hoping your assumption wasn’t offensive in some way. The last thing you wanted was to anger this man, do a wave of nerves smacked you in the face while you waited for his reply. A melancholy look washed over the man’s face.

However, despite his saddened look, his smile remained on his face as he noticed your sudden change in demeanour. The question didn’t offend him by any means, so it was a little funny to him to see you back track as if it did.

“You are correct. In fact I’ve known many people who have ended up here, that’s why I planted these.” He said, turning his attention to the plants.

“I planted them in the hopes that if there is an afterlife, those who have fallen can look in at Jinzhou with these plants.” He explained, his gaze shifting to look up at the city that, like always, never seemed to rest for long. You looked over to him in surprise. Not only did he plant them but you also pieces together that he without a doubt had been fighting alongside a handful of these people.

“That’s a beautiful sentiment.” You responded, also looking back at the city, “I’m sure they enjoy the view.” You continued, a smile making its way onto your own face as you looked over at the sun. It had been a lot later in the day than you initially realized.

“While the plants are made to be resilient, I’m sure they appreciated your constant care.” The man mentioned, that same small smile having yet to leave his face. Despite his intimidating nature he seemed to be quite a nice man.

“I’m glad to have been of some help to them.” You responded quietly.

“Are you from Jinzhou ?” You asked, you might as well considering he didn’t seem to mind your conversation.

“I have moved around to many places as I grew up, but Jinzhou is where I seem to always come back to,” He answered in a more wistful manner before continuing. “Although it has been some time since I’ve been back, so I’m not sure what has changed exactly.”

You perked up at this as you looked over to him, your interest very clear on your face which caused the man a slight bit of confusion.

“So you haven’t been to the new restaurant that opened up?” You questioned. You were referring to a smaller business that not many people frequented given the fact that it had yet to gain the beloved reputation that the surrounding places had. However, you had gone one day to try it and loved it ever since.

The man shook his head, meeting your gaze with confusion as you seemed to become only more enthusiastic.

“We should go some time, I could show you where it is. I’m not sure exactly what your taste in food is, but I’m sure you’ll love it. They make a killer Jinzhou stew.” You claimed eagerly which quickly gained the interest of the man before you.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try, maybe we could go tomorrow… If you’re free that is.” He asked, almost hesitating through his sentence as he went through it. You simply smiled, your excitement having yet to die down before you nodded.

“That sounds like a great idea. We could meet here at the same time to make it easy.” You offered to which he nodded in return. You hadn’t really noticed but his smile had grown since your initial offer. It wasn’t exactly rare for him to smile, but it certainly wasn’t an expression he had all the time.

He looked to you before he looked up at the sky, realizing that the sun had long since set and the night sky was becoming more visible.

“I should get going, but I will see you here tomorrow, right?” He asked before beginning to walk off.

You nodded gleefully, excited to show off your favorite place to someone, not even realizing what had just happened. As the man turned away from you to walk off you looked over him again. The teal colours, the dragon scaled armour, the fact he’s been fighting for a time period you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

It finally hit you.

“That was General Jiyan…” You muttered absentmindedly, simply staring at the man as you finally pieces together who he was. This entire time you had been speaking with him so casually and yet he was the very well respected general that everyone and their mother has heard about.

And then the rest of the conversation finally caught up with you as well.

“And I just asked him on a date.” You muttered, completely lost as to how you managed to go this long without it clicking.

What you hadn’t realized though was that your revealation had been heard by the man himself, earning a stifled chuckle from him as he walked off.

[modanisgf]

016. MANIAC (WRITTEN)

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‘this was a mistake.’ was all that ran through hanni’s mind as she continued to sit in some random persons house, her friends next to her laughing their asses off.

she wasn’t sure how they had managed to convince her to tag along to this, hanni hated parties the thought of them making her gag. who wanted to sit around and get drunk with a bunch of people you don’t know?

the only people in their group sober were haerin and hanni, haerin occupying herself with danielle leaving hanni alone. with her thoughts of course, the worst time in her life for her to be overthinking.

to give more context one of matthew’s members decided to throw a party for his birthday, not notifying the friend group until a bit after their personal party had ended. hanni remembered it well, too well even as if it wasn’t hours ago now.

the group was sitting on minji’s couch, watching various movies when matthew got a call.

“hey ricky what’s up?” he said, his expression noticeably changing once ricky spoke.

“and you didn’t tell me until now? i’m already busy—“

“matthew half of the industry is going to be there, can’t you just continue your little hangout tomorrow?” ricky said loudly, allowing the whole group to hear.

matthew sighed in irritation, “fine but next time don’t tell me twenty minutes before.”

matthew hang up the phone after that, before turning to everyone.

“so basically ricky decided to throw me a party and not tell me about it, so now he wants me to be there in like twenty minutes.” matthew explains, confusion being left on everyone but gunwook’s face.

“we’re actually going? i mean, how far away is the venue?” minji asks.

“fifteen minutes..” matthew mumbles.

“bro we don’t have time for this, speak up.” gunwook chimes in.

“fifteen minutes?”

“are you serious?!”

yet they still ended up at the venue on time (ricky’s rich cousin’s house ?), much to hanni’s dismay. she never really explicitly stated she wanted to go, but she knew her friends needed a supervisor just in case haerin got distracted.

the main thing hanni was concerned about though was you, she knew if danielle was here there was no way you weren’t and after your argument a couple days before— hanni wasn’t sure if she was ready to see your face again. you had being nothing less of a bitch to her that day, making sure she knew you didn’t care about her which hadn’t left her mind since.

hanni wanted nothing more than to get over her feelings for you, but even after all that happened she couldn’t truly say she hated you. sure what all you did was unnecessary, but behind everything you said you seemed hurt.

if you truly wanted to hurt her, why would you feel bad? hanni didn’t miss the build up of tears on your waterline as you argued, making her feel the slightest bit of sympathy for you.

but overall and to the public eye, she wanted nothing to do with you. so hanni made it her mission to keep away from you at this party. and her mission ended now, your kuromi bag entering her sight causing her heart to drop. at this point the only person by hanni's side was haerin but she was too busy in conversation with danielle to save her.

you were presumably walking over there to collect danielle, sunoo trailing behind you. sunoo looked hanni in the eyes, the eye contact becoming uncomfortable as he glared at her. obviously sunoo didn't know the full story, of course you wouldn't let your friends in on how horrible you were to hanni.

you and sunoo seemed to be in slow motion in hanni's eyes, every step closer making her more anxious. she fought the urge to nudge haerin, realizing it would only make her closer to you the exact opposite of her goal at the moment.

the two of you made eye contact, the sharp look on hanni’s face making you sad. she seemed like she was doing well without you, unfortunately.

“danielle, our ride is here.” you say, noticing her perk up.

“oh okay, bye haerin!” dani waved to the girl, haerin waving back.

sunoo and danielle quickly walked away, but hanni noticed you linger a bit longer before picking up your feet and trying to catch up with your friends.

haerin raised a eyebrow at the way hanni eyes stayed fixed on where you once were. hanni wasn’t getting over you anytime soon, it was obvious to anyone at this point.

“hanni.” haerin called out to her.

“yes?”

“you need to get over her.”

a silent pause between the two proved haerin’s point, the latter sighing.

“i’m being serious, she’s destroying you.” haerin says.

“what are you gonna do once your off hiatus? aren’t you set for a tour later this year once your albums out?” haerin asks.

“i don’t know haerin, all my shits pushed back now.” hanni says, relaxing against the counter behind her.

“might not even get off of hiatus.” hanni says quietly, but loud enough for haerin to hear.

“don’t say that.” haerin warns, “hybe wouldn’t give you up.”

“are you sure? it seems like they already have.” hanni starts.

“it’s been forever now haerin.”

“hanni…”

“no don’t even say anything else, i’m just gonna get out of here i can’t do it anymore.” hanni says, grabbing her stuff.

“watch the others and tell matthew i said happy birthday and something came up.” hanni says, to which haerin nods.

haerin wasn’t going to fight with her anymore, they both knew well what was probably going to happen to hanni’s career.

haerin just wanted to keep postive.

hanni had no clue what she was thinking when she left that party. she had no ride, no hoodie to at least somewhat hide her appearance, and it was pouring rain outside.

hanni couldn’t break down out here, there was no telling if any paparazzi were around and she was already in trouble. she didn’t know what she would do if a headline got out, would it even matter anymore?

so she just sat there, staring at the ground before hearing footsteps. a voice perked up, presumably speaking to her.

“hanni what the hell are you doing—“ a familiar voice said, concerned.

“yn?” hanni said looking up.

“shit, i was hoping you wouldn’t recognize my voice.” you say.

“i don’t get drunk ever y’know that, wait nono— get away from me what did i tell you?!” hanni says in a panic.

“hanni, it’s late at night and it’s raining like crazy. can you at least let me take you home?” you say, to which she shakes her head no.

“i’ll wait for my friends.” hanni says, stubbornly.

“you can’t be serious.” you mumble, hanni not missing it.

“okay fine..” hanni says, she knew you didn’t have bad intentions.

“just don’t tell anyone, okay?” hanni warns.

“i won’t don’t worry, my friends are gone already anyways.” you say.

“then why are you still here?”

“i had a feeling.”

“what?”

“i had a feeling you would want to leave early.” you mumble.

“how did you have a feeling—“ hanni starts, getting cut off by you.

“okay maybe, i didn’t have a feeling.. i just knew, you don’t seem like the type to party.” you say, shaking your head.

you see hanni fight back her smile, making you laugh a bit.

“but anyways, here’s my car." you say, opening the passengers door for her.

"i have to sit next to you..?" she asks.

"okay." you sigh, you had done this to yourself obviously but it still hurt.

"get in the back then." you say closing the door, making your way over to the drivers.

“are you not gonna open it for me?”

“hanni.”

“okay sorry i’m getting in.”

the ride to hanni’s apartment building was silent, hanni on her phone the entire time ensuring haerin she found a ride home.

soon they reached hanni’s building and she got out.

“thank you.” hanni says, making you smile.

“anything for you.” you say quietly.

hanni walked off after, yn waiting to make sure she got inside safely before driving off. she knew hanni hated her bad, so the least she could do was keep her safe.

yn finally understood her feelings, she was in love with hanni pham.

TAGS 🏷️ (CLOSED): @jayjj7 @haerinsloverr @aribunnu @masuowo @multiliker @winieter @sewiouslyz @edenzeepy @popasi @home2venus @ghstvr @technicallyimportantsweets @he------len @yukianism @yeetaberry127 @haechansbbg @linnnsworld @sixflame438 @emotionallyrin @gtfoiydlyj @inosfavgf @rvoulte @hotluvlet

[nhasablogg]

Tickle fics

Fandom: Red, White and Royal Blue

Characters: Henry/Alex

Summary: Alex reads a tickle fic about them aloud and Henry is having a totally chill reaction to it.

A/N: Soooo I do admit not a lot of tickling happens in this one (if any?). It's more of those fics with (the concept of) tickling that I love writing. BUT if you're nice maybe I will write you a sequel with the thing Alex mentions toward the end ;) Actually I probably WILL write it either way, although maybe I won't have the fics be connected. I hope you like this regardless!

Words. 1.2k

Alex finds it funny, and Henry likes watching him giggle over the phone, but, respectfully, Henry is about to die if he keeps it up.

Gripping the pillow he’s fighting against covering his face with, he tries to keep his features neutral, the opposite of Alex’s animated movements. He’s all hands and expressions, all laughter and voices. Maybe it’s Henry’s silence over the voice Alex has chosen to adopt each time Henry’s character speaks - too high pitched, not even the right British accent - that finally makes him look up from the phone, eyebrow raised, sentence dying at the tip of his tongue. “You don’t like this story?”

“It’s a great story.”

“But you’re barely reacting.”

“I was simply just enchanted by the descriptions. You know-” He sits up straighter, eyes on the back of Alex’s phone. “My interpretation of the story relies on how you read it to me. What words you choose to emphasize. What tone you adopt.”

“So you’re saying the way I’m reading is boring.”

“Not at all.”

“Hmm. Okay, look.” He shoves the phone in Henry’s face. “Read this.”

All Henry sees is giggle and tickles and it makes him want to scream. “Okay.”

“Read it aloud. I wanna see how you’d read it.” He leans back, grinning at him. “Since apparently I’m not a good narrator.”

“Oh my god, Alex, that’s not what I meant. I simply thought it was an interesting observation which was entirely on topic by the way-”

“You’re trying to get out of this.”

“I am not-”

“So read.”

They’ve done this before. Henry has never cared about the world of fanfiction, which Alex finds interesting since he is a man of letters and stories. Alex, on the other hand, was looking up fanfiction about the two of them the very moment they started sleeping together, sending him links and screenshots with lewd emojis. It was only after they became official that he started reading them aloud to him, sometimes as a joke, sometimes to see what Henry thought of certain, uh, activities. Henry has never called him out on it, mostly because it’s been quite effective.

“Look,” he said earlier that evening, tapping Henry on the arm. “I found a tickle fic of us.”

Henry nearly broke his own neck from how quickly he turned toward him. “S-sorry?”

Alex took his spluttering in the wrong way and nodded eagerly. “I know! Apparently that’s a thing. Listen to this.” He cleared his throat. “This is in the middle of the fic, it doesn’t start like this. Henry managed to call out a panicked, “No!” before Alex had switched spots, fingers curling over the area and making Henry howl with laughter, much different than June’s quiet pleading, but nowhere near Alex’s yelling. I don’t yell by the way. Also it’s a little weird that June’s in here. But oh my god, I need to read you the whole thing, it’s glorious. It’s about me compiling a list about my favorite things about you and putting you being ticklish on there, which I guess is kinda true. The author’s this weirdo called N-”

Henry grips the phone tighter now, scanning the screen. “Where did you stop?”

“About here.” Alex points and Henry tries to breathe.

“‘I should pin you before you fall off,’ he said, and Henry positively whined- I don’t whine.”

Alex waves his hand. “You do. Keep reading.”

“‘You liked that?’ ‘Let go of me, you brute.’”

“It does kinda sound like you, doesn’t it?” Alex has his cheek pressed to Henry’s shoulder, eyes on the phone. He can probably feel the heat radiating off of him and Henry tries to calm down, he really really does. “You’re certainly just as ticklish. Not sure if you like it when I tickle you, though.” He turns to grin at him, all cheeky innocence and Henry deserves a prize for the way he doesn’t look away.

“Right.” The prize should promptly be taken from him due to the way his voice wavers.

Alex sits up, as if he only just now realizes how not chill Henry has been during this entire interaction. “Wait, do you?”

“No.”

“Baby.”

It’s so unfair when Alex baby’s him. “I don’t.”

To Alex’s credit he seems to be trying very hard not to smile now. “You’re blushing.”

“It’s very hot in here.”

“Come to think of it, you’ve been blushing this entire time.”

“I have not.”

“Did you write this fic?”

“What? No!”

“But it’s not far off, is it? You don’t mind when I tickle you.”

Henry finally covers his face with that stupid pillow. “Please god, what did I do to deserve this.”

Alex is laughing as he pulls at the pillowcase. “Come on, don’t hide. It’s cute. I swear I didn’t pick this fic to embarrass you. I hadn’t connected the dots until literally just now.”

“There are no dots.” Henry gives up on the pillow and lets Alex take it. “This fic is simply not good.”

“Oh, come on now.” Alex makes a move as if to touch him and thinks better of it. “You almost never protest when I tickle you. You always seem to be in a better mood afterward. You don’t have to be into it or anything to not mind it.”

Henry whines - stupid N being right - and shuts his eyes. “I- okay, fine, I don’t fully mind it. Not when you do it.”

“Baby, that’s so cute.”

“I will literally murder you.”

“Tell me.” Alex is suddenly closer. Henry can feel his breath at his neck, but he refuses to open his eyes. “Did it do something to you to hear me read that fic?”

“Alex-”

“Did you enjoy it? I certainly like watching you squirm.”

Henry opens his eyes and Alex is right there. “I won’t answer that.” A breath, and, “You already know the answer.”

“Oh, that I do.” A fingertip on Henry’s thigh. Henry imagines it moving further in, touching his most delicate skin. He rarely allows himself to think this - shame and guilt always gripping him - but sometimes, when he’s alone in bed or has Alex sleeping beside him, he imagines what it would be like to fully lose control to teasing fingers.

He’s never thought this fantasy will play out. He doesn’t know how to approach it now.

But Alex is there, so certain with it. So nonjudgmental.

“Tell me,” he says now, finger still but still touching. “What would you want me to do to you, if you could have me do anything? Pin you? Tie you up? Tickle you so gently you nearly scream? Or maybe you’re more into the playfulness of it. Maybe you like it when I’m quick and brief.”

“I don’t know what I like.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Alex grins, all teeth and glee. “Maybe one of those fics can help us figure it out. Combined with some experimentation, of course.”

Henry doesn’t know if he should curse N out or thank her. Maybe both.

[typicalopposite]

Hmmmmm…… yall ready for the Tommy backstory brain worm I just thought of whilst shopping the grocery store aisles… ( @onthewaytosomewhere we were just talking about me wanting this back and now I lowkey regret it!)

First off I’m all for a Tommy begins but I don’t know how they are gonna shrink him back down to s2 Tommy size and if they recast I will be sad… second, This one’s long and definitely gonna be more that one part sooo yeah, I guess I do that now 😂 I knew it was gonna get away from me as soon as I started it! BUT anyway imagine with me if you will…

Buck is coming off that first shift under Gerrard… he’s annoyed and tired and confused and he calls Tommy to let him know he made it home.

“Babe you’re not going to believe the bullshit I just had to deal with…”

Tommy laughs and asks if Hen was using her Interim Captain authority to still give him a hard time about not coming out to her before the wedding…

“No…” Buck says, a broken half hearted laugh. If only it were something that simple… Instead he says something Tommy never would have guessed in a millions years. “Gerrard is our new captain.”

The sound of the glass Tommy had been drying to put up shattering as it hits the floor startles them both. “Wh- What did you just say…” Tommy asks, ignoring Buck asking what just happened. Buck lets it go easy enough and tells him everything… and Tommy feels like he might pass out…

He feels like he is back in that station under that asshole again…

When he first started at the 118 he got the normal probie treatment; your higher ups are dicks… your captain gives you a hard time to see how good you are… if you’re even good at all. But Tommy was fresh out of the army.. he wasn’t weak by any means, and he’d had his fair share of workplace bullies to know how to take care of himself.

Plus there’s one guy there, Sal… he’s ok, Tommy guesses. He’s not as much of a jerk as the other guys are. They strike up a friendship. Before long the captain takes a liking to him too. Gerrard says he sees real potential in Tommy… begins to take him under his wing, in a way. Things actually aren’t too bad. Until they become terrible…

It’s been a hell of a shift. They are covered in soot and sweat and blood, and they all need showers. Afterwards, Sal walks over to his locker that’s right down from Tommy’s; a towel around his waist, water droplets still sprinkled over his body.

Suddenly the air feels like it’s thick in the room. The temperature is rising and— and Tommy has done this nearly everyday before… plus Sal is his friend… not to mention straight as an arrow… so why Tommy suddenly is finding it extremely difficult to avert his eyes is beyond him.

He stares for maybe a moment, definitely no longer, before finally managing to shake himself out of it. He pulls his shirt over his head and grabs his bag before turning on his heels and beelining it out of the locker room. Sal calls after him, “What’s the rush, T?” Tommy just makes some lame excuse and keeps walking.

“Kinard!” Gerrard’s voice booms from above. Tommy looks up and the captain. He is leaning on the railing; a straight shot view to the locker rooms.

“Y-Yes sir?”

Gerrard stares at him, and if he saw anything… he never says, the the sudden glare in his eye, that he had never had before when looking at Tommy says he definitely did. “See you tomorrow…”

part two

[justauthoring]

yours, always.

requested -> ooh since ur writing fairy tail fics now, how abt a gray x ice dragon slayer reader where she just likes the taste of gray’s ice and always convinces him to make her some by -> anonymous

a/n -> it's been a hot minute since i wrote for fairy tail and gray is just adorable so here yall go

pairing -> gray fullbuster x f!reader

want to support me? send me a coffee!

“blegh.”

from across the bar, drying a cup in her hands, mirajane raises a curious brow. “what’s the matter, y/n?”

meeting her eyes, you pout, draped across the top of her bar rather dramatically. your hands stretch out before you, and you not so subtly shove the cup of ice away from you. “i’m hungry.”

“oh,” she frowns, concerned, eyes momentarily eyeing the cup of ice you'd shoved away. “i can make you something if you’d like? you need only ask, y/n. you know that.”

you turn to her, letting your chin rest on the table instead of your cheek and frown, not having meant to insult her. “I know, mira. thank you,” you say honestly, sending her a small smile. “it’s not food really that i’m hungry for, it’s—“

whatever you’d been about to say promptly gets cut off by the sound of the doors open. you straighten, surprising mirajane as you practically leap to your feet. instantly, your head is snapping towards the door, desperately hopeful, before your eyes practically shine at the sight of a familiar dark-haired (shirtless) mage.

“gray!” you call, bounding towards him without a second thought.

at the sound of his name, gray turns to face you, settling once he realizes just who called for him. his face brightens and a gentle smile curls on his lips as his arms widen to hug you, body obviously easing at you, his girlfriend, given how much he’d missed you while taking solo job.

it wasn't even like he'd been gone for that long — the mission had taken no more than two days. it was just rare that the two of you didn't go together, or at least with the rest of team natsu, but you hadn't been feeling well so you'd opted out.

you'd severely regretted that decision the second gray left.

except, you don’t jump into his arms like gray expects, arms shifting to prepare himself. instead, you stop right before him, hands reaching to clasp his wrist and tug it towards your chest.

“ice.”

and he blinks, stunned and confused, the whole thing happening in a blink of the eye to gray. he's dreadfully confused and a little disappointed because he'd been looking forward to that hug and then, your words register and he smirks teasingly.

“and here i thought you actually missed me.”

eyes shifting from his hand to his eyes, you pause. “oh, yes, gray of course i missed you. im glad you’re safe,” you rush out in a way that doesn’t completely seem heartfelt in the way gray had really wanted. but, he guessed, it was that thought that counted?

“now, ice. im starving.”

huffing, gray moves to oblige, not able to deny your request but still pouting about it.

“seriously,” he whines, feeling rerribly unlike himself (only you would have the ability to make him whine), holding his hand and making some ice for you to take. “it’s like you just use me to eat my ice. did you know that i missed you and you were on my thoughts the entire—“

gray halts when he feels your lips press against his cheek.

lips parting, his eyes follow you as you lean back, the ice he’d made for you held safely in your hands as you beam up at him.

“thank you,” you whisper, warm and genuine.

the sight of you smiling at him like that and the sound of your voice has gray short circuiting, cheeks turning a bright red as you move to happily munch of the ice.

“mm!” you exclaims, giddy and satisfied. “delicious. as always. no other ice can compare.”

and it’s silly and stupid. it’s just ice, but it melts gray’s heart and your words mean so much to him that all he can manage is to smile back at you, eyes flooded with love.

"you're welcome," he muses, watching you with adoring eyes. with the ice happily in your hands as you munch away, gray wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you against his side as he leads you towards a table.

truthfully, he'll give you all the ice in the world if it makes you that happy every time.

and he'd be foolish to deny how happy it makes him that only his ice can satisfy your craving.

[carrie-tate]

I share concepts and ideas about oc for Tintin fandom:

About what’s in my head — I really want the character–journalist (yeah, so that when she meet Tintin she’ll be like “OH, FELLOW REPORTER!”), while making her come from Russia (taking into account the approximate time period when the animated series was released, and I I rely mainly on it, this is the early nineties, that is, there is no “Iron Curtain” and it was possible to implement foreign journalism)

Of course, given her age, she obviously managed to see both the USSR and its collapse. She most likely could have worked as a correspondent collecting information for some not very popular magazine about different parts of the world (although given the time... I think on the contrary this would have been popular, everyone would have wanted to know what places and events were happening outside the country)

I have no exact idea what kind of cameras there were at that time, but it seems like there were Polaroids even then. So I think she could afford one (although I don’t know how to shoot with them, so don’t look at the pose of the hands; it’s not reliable)

I also had the idea that Tatyana (that’s what I called her) at first impression would actually create the image of a business person with a bored face. To play on the stereotype "Russians don't smile"

And only through communication would it be revealed that this stereotype is not very true ^^

[rainbeaudingo]

I have a hard time believing Kurogiri/Oboro is dead-dead. With the buildup we’ve gotten, and some convincing from other fans, I feel like Aizawa saying “nomu don’t cry.” And holding Kurogiri’s face really meant something. Plus, unlike all the other villains and heroes…we never got a final shot of Kurogiri/Oboro fulfilling his fate. No flashback. No heroic last triumphant “I am So-and-so”. Not even a full shot of his face-neither Kurogiri or Shirakumo, just an eye. And his portal to…somewhere.

I do, however, think Kurogiri is dying. Someone said it looked like his body was breaking down on a cellular level. I don’t know how true that is, but maybe being away from the doctor for too long meant his body went without Nomu maintenance. Or maybe his mission to protect Shigaraki means he ends when Shigaraki ends. Or, most likely, teleporting all the heroes from around the world(?) was too much strain.

But there still is the program working to restore nomu, and of all the nomu I think Kurogiri has the highest chance, being a high end and particularly reachable mentally.

No matter what, I hope Kurogiri/Oboro gets to choose what happens to himself.

For something lighter, there is still a light blue haired, red eyed child, with a destructive quirk, and a caretaker whose quirk is now damaged, and may be unable to help her manage alone.

[rafyki]

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 4!

Just a little thingy about Nico talking about what happened with Jason and Leo - I added some more valgrace for you @neo-kid-funk! I hope you enjoy it! 💕💕

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

~~~~~~

“Oh my god, he was flirting with you”.

Nico rolled his eyes at his friend. Leo hadn’t been there he couldn’t know that - it had been weird, sure, but that didn’t mean it must have been flirting, right?

The only thing Nico was sure of was that whatever that conversation he had had with Percy that afternoon had been, even just thinking about it was making butterflies fly like crazy in his stomach.

“For the umpteenth time, Leo, he was not flirting with me”.

Leo got up from where he was lying on the floor with his head on Jason’s lap just to fix Nico with the most judgemental look ever.

“Let me teach you how to surf”, he said, making air quotes with his fingers. “That definitely sounds like flirting to me”.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re such an expert in flirting, aren’t you?”

It was Leo’s turn to roll his eyes at him. 

“I know we all love talking about me, but somehow I’m not the main topic right now”, he said. “Also, I am the one with a boyfriend here, Goth-boy, so…”.

Nico scowled at him. God, he hated his friends.

It wasn’t not like he hadn’t expected the teasing that would come from telling them everything, but somehow Leo always managed to go beyond his expectations for how annoying he could be. 

Nico hated how he couldn’t help but think that what he was saying made sense, couldn’t help the hot burning of hope growing inside him; he hated it, he could not allow himself to hope for real just to end up disappointed in the end.

Maybe Percy was just the kind of person who went around asking people if he could teach them how to surf? Maybe it was his way of showing off? It wasn’t like Nico knew him well enough to know this.

I know he loves the Little Mermaid though, his brain very usefully reminded him. I know he looked so embarrassed when I told him I don’t want to learn how to surf.

And I know he smiled at me when I told him I would look at him.

The last thought made his face burn. He didn’t even know how he had managed to recount the whole conversation to his friends without dying of embarrassment. 

The more he thought about it the more the whole conversation with Percy sounded weirder and weirder if he removed the chance that it was indeed flirting. His heart jumped in his chest at the thought.

“Come on, Leo”, Jason stepped in. He wrapped his arms around Leo’s middle and pulled him to lay against his chest, resting his head on top of his. 

Nico wasn’t jealous of them in any way, but he still felt his insides twisting around in a knot at the sight. He wondered how it would feel to have Percy’s arms around himself like that, if they too would fit together so well. 

Don’t be ridiculous, Nico. You barely know the guy.

“Nico”, Jason said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “We’re not saying he was one hundred percent flirting with you - but really, he does sound interested in you at least in some measure”.

Nico hated how reasonable he made it sound. It was easier to get lost in the banter with Leo, but Jason was so pragmatic it was impossible to respond back to him.

“Also, you said he smiled at you when you told him-”

“Please don’t say it out loud”, Nico pleaded, cringing at himself. He still thought that burying himself under the ground somewhere could be his best option out of this,

Jason smiled at him, Leo laughed.

 “Well”, Leo said. “One thing’s for sure - at least you were definitely flirting with him”.

“I’m going to kill you, Valdez”.

“You can’t! That would make Jason sad”, Leo replied. “Also, you know you love me, Goth-boy”.

Nico hated that he was right after all. 

Jason was looking at them with a fond look in his eyes.

“I wasn’t flirting”, Nico mumbled in the end. “I just- I just happened to say that. I wasn’t really thinking”.

Percy made his mind go blank, free from any thought that wasn’t about how handsome he was, how Nico wanted him to keep smiling at him, and how much he wanted to get to know him. Really, all Nico had been thinking about was that he didn’t want Percy to leave, that he wanted that moment to last for as long as possible. 

He let himself fall on the floor, lying down with his arms open. Biting on his lip rings had become a nervous habit, and he found himself doing it again as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Even if you weren’t thinking, it was still a pretty flirty thing to say”, Leo said. “And you said he looked pleased at that - so really, it’s a win-win situation”.

“Leo is right”, Jason added. “As awkward as it might have been, it sounds like all in all it was good. You talked to him for a while, you flirted, he seemed interested in you - so, what is it that’s making you being negative about it?”

Nico hid his face in the palms of his hands. He wanted to scream. 

“I don’t know”, he pushed out through his dry throat. 

Maybe it seemed too good to be true? Maybe he was afraid that even if Percy really was interested in him now he wouldn’t be anymore once he would get to really know him? Maybe he was just too embarrassed. Or maybe he simply wasn’t used to things going his way. He really didn’t know. 

He suddenly felt two warm presences around him. He moved his hands away to see Jason sitting close to him with a hand on his shoulder, and Leo laying down next to him with his head resting on Nico’s side.

“You have this horrible habit of self sabotaging yourself, man”, Leo said.

Jason nodded. “You’re allowed to have good things, Nico”.

Oh Nico hated his friends. 

“Shut up”, he said, hiding behind his hands again.

“Just talk to him again next time”, Jason said.

“Flirt with him again”, Leo added.

“See what happens”. 

“And anyway you’re both so bad at flirting you must be made for each other”.

Nico blindly reached out to hit Leo on the head, and smiled when he got an offended ‘ouch’ in response.

Maybe he did love his friends after all.