#i love the little hints here

[the-kipsabian]

Alan Wake 2 Gameplay Reveal

[the-kaedageist]

It’s so funny that Essek was taken aback by Fearne summoning Teven, but if you’d asked me before this episode (or at least before Fearne met him), “which party would be more likely to randomly summon the champion of a betrayer god out of thin air without warning?” I would have immediately answered “The Mighty Nein”. 

I love the implications of this. I love the idea that the Nein’s antics might STILL throw Essek years later, but isn’t that also why he loves them so much? Didn’t they win him over by relentless friendship mixed with absolute batshit amounts of chaos? 

On the other hand, I can also imagine a world where yes, Essek totally would have expected this from the Nein - but he never expected any other adventuring party to be as ridiculous as his friends. 

This poor drow will never escape the confines of being trapped within the indignity of a game of dnd, and I love that for him.

[spellboundcities]

Here's what I've been up to btw

[starfiresky]

✨Happy Valentine’s Day from Naminé’s sketchbook journal 💕

[elsecrytt]

masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.

gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.

gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.

gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.

his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.

gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.

gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.

he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.

being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

enough to feel it with his whole body.

gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.

gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.

gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.

he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.

dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.

nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.

he never feels it. he never feels anything.

satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.

pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.

he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.

he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.

white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.

it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.

or he thinks it does, anyways.

sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.

heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.

he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.

it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.

always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.

love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.

it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.

so gojo stays untouchable. distant.

but the hunger doesn't go away. never.

he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.

but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.

gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.

touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.

if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.

they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.

gojo is hungry, so hungry.

please feed him.

[jajanvm-imbi]

Hey remember when I said that this was the most frustrating thing about being a Helluva Boss enjoyer?

Yeah I was wrong.

The most frustrating thing about being a Helluva Boss enjoyer is explicitly stating multiple times that I like show and then get called an anti and homophobic and media illiterate when I complain about the direction it has taken.

I LIKE the comedy

I LIKE the animation and artstyle

I LIKE the more serious plotlines like the government agents plot and the Cherubs plot

I LIKE the themes of friendship and found family

I even like most of the songs!

And ofc the voice cast slays every time

But just because your show has angst and tears and drama and sad music doesn't automatically make it "good".

Just because your characters are queer doesn't automatically make them good or well written characters

This fandom is so frustrating to deal with when you want to express your more nuanced takes of it

This is probably gonna be the last post I make about this subject and about Helluva Boss in general, this shit is too stupid to deal with

[ilynpilled]

I adore this interaction before it goes to shit because these two are truly some of the wittiest characters in these books and it is always so charming to see them interact with someone who is not only able to keep up with their snark but also indulges them

[ducksoup17]

I cant believe these live in my house with me

[wacky-nameless-inventor-24]

TIMNY ROYALTY MADS AND GANDRA STUFF <3333 they’re probably like 10 here (reminder Mads is Eleven and Gandra is Three)

I don’t thinkkkkk it comes up in this particular snippet but for little Mads I’ll be using he/him in the narrative but she/her in the dialogue

The space really wasn’t big enough for both of them, but they made it work.

Jamming themselves into the tiny cave, Three rolled the conveniently-placed large rock to cover the entrance into place. Even as she did it she was leaned up against Eleven, whose back was pressed up against the far cave wall.

The earth ceiling was low, forcing them to duck, and they tried to give each other space to catch their breaths. Even then, their knees were still touching.

“We made it over the border,” Three gasped. They’d been running hard. Eleven made a quiet out-of-breath sound of victory. “Now comes the stealth, they can’t know we’re here.”

Eleven nodded. Three couldn’t see him well in the dark, but they were so close together she could feel his movement.

This was a game of capture the flag, but all of them knew it wasn’t simply a game. The instructors would be paying attention to who performed badly and who did the best, taking the strategies and the talents and the losses into consideration. Games like this would be common in the future, and it was all to build the kids’ skills.

So it was just a game, but their futures could be shaped by it.

Both of them were counting on winning.

Neither of them were very fast, Eleven was short for his age and Three hadn’t grown into her feet yet and was prone to tripping. If they were caught now running would do no good, so they would need to rely on their ability to be sneaky.

So they hid and they waited for the coast to be clear.

At one point there came shouting, the sound of feet thumping on the earthy ceiling above. Someone jumped off the edge above them and landed right in front of the concealed cave door, not a far jump.

Three and Eleven both held their breaths.

The person outside took off running.

"That was close," Three breathed. "But at least we know this spot works. We'll stay until it gets quiet."

Again, Eleven just nodded.

Turns out that wouldn't take very long, but Three still waited, ear close to the door (well, it was close to everything in there, there wasn't much space), listening intently. All she heard was the usual woods sounds, the swish of leaves and the call of birds.

After a few minutes Eleven let out a heavy breath, and Three leaned away from the door. "Okay, I think we should send one of us out to make sure there's nobody there- Eleven?"

Eleven was panting again like he was out of breath, the sound loud in the tiny space as he tried to suppress it, breathing through his nose. He had a hand on the rock in front of the entrance, his eyes unfocused.

"Eleven, what's wrong?" Three reached out to touch his shoulder and he flinched away, pressing himself against the wall opposite her. He managed to shrink himself so much that his knees no longer touched hers. "Hey, are you hurt?"

He didn't answer but his breathing was becoming more desperate, his beak open to gulp more air. "Eleven," Three tried again, slightly annoyed he wasn't answering. "Eleven, what is it?"

Still he didn't reply, slipping down the wall behind him. There wasn't enough room on the floor for him to sit, but he was trying to get as much of him on the ground as possible. In the low lighting, Three could see how his hand gripped at the dirt and the roots of the wall next to him.

"You're not scared, are you?" Three's brow furrowed. Eleven wasn't one to get scared like this. "It is just a game, I can get Instructor Heron if you nee-"

At last she got an answer, and that was Eleven violently shaking his head has his breathing became more erratic. He was shaking against her, and Three had to look up to make sure there was enough of a crack around the door to let in air. He wasn't suffocating, was he? She wasn't suffocating, right?

She took in a deep breath, and then tried to crouch next to him. "Eleven, tell me what's wrong." It wasn't a question anymore, he was starting to scare her. "Eleven come on, you're being weird."

Still he didn't answer but still shied away from her. His green eyes caught in the light, wild and unfocused and full of fear.

Something really was wrong. No matter what Eleven said, she should get one of the instructors.

Straightening back up she reached over Eleven to push the rock door open, no longer caring that there might be someone outside. The second the door was moving Eleven dove for the forming crack of light, wiggling through the tiny space and out into the woods.

Three was close behind him, shoving the rock out of the way to find him already splayed out on the grass, on his back, gasping for air.

Out here she could see there were tears in his eyes.

She knelt next to him, noticing the way his hands were fisted in the grass, tearing at it. "Eleven, stay right here I'll go get an instructor-"

"No!" Eleven cried, finally speaking, finally meeting her gaze. When he did it was so intense that Three had to hear him out. "Don't tell Instructor Heron about this, please-"

"What is wrong?!" Three demanded. Worried but exasperated.

"I don't know-" still laid out on the grass, he lifted a shaky hand to his forehead. "Just got all panicky in there, I couldn't breathe." He tried and failed to swallow a sob.

"What do you mean you couldn't breathe? I could breathe fine."

"There wasn't enough space for the air," his eyes were unfocused again, he stared up at the sky.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, that's just how it felt!"

Three winced, glancing around. If Eleven still wanted to play, then hopefully nobody would hear them talking out in the open like this.

After a few seconds his breathing calmed down, he swallowed several times to try and slow himself down. He was still crying, however. Eventually Three found his hand and pulled him up, and before she could properly find her own balance he was throwing his arms around her in a tight hug.

"Eleven- what-" startled, she tried to push him off, but his grip was iron strong. She could feel he was still shaking.

Annoyed, she let out a breath. "What's wrong?" She asked for what felt like the dozenth time.

"I don't know," again, the same response. Only now he sounded like he was sobbing, so Three felt a little more sympathetic. She gingerly hugged him back. "There just wasn't enough space in there. It was too small."

"Why does that make you this scared?"

"I don't know, it felt like we were going to get crushed. Like the ceiling was going to fall on us or there wasn't going to be enough air."

"It wasn't," Three told him.

"Well you can say that now!" Eleven replied shrilly. Three shushed him.

They stayed like that for a long time, sitting next to the little cave, hugging each other. Waiting for Eleven to stop shaking, for his crying to die down. Three kept an eye out for anyone approaching, but she at least tried to be comforting. She rubbed his back a little.

Finally his arms tightened around her, when he spoke his voice was soft and still full of tears. "Don't tell Heron?"

Three pulled away to look at him, and he let her go. His eyes were red and he wouldn't meet her gaze. "Do you think it's going to happen again?"

He moved away a little, drawing his knees up to his chest. After a moment he nodded.

"Then she's going to find out eventually that you don't like small spaces."

"I know. But I don't want her to right now. Promise you won't tell?"

Three let out a breath. "I promise. Now we have to find somewhere else to hide before anybody finds us."

She could've left him there. She could hide in any tiny crevice in the woods, in a log, under a rock. He couldn't. He had marginally less options if cramped spaces made him react like this. He would drag her down, make this more difficult.

But Three just climbed to her feet, holding out a hand to help him up. "Come on, maybe we can hide up a tree somewhere."

In seconds, the two of them had disappeared into the trees, playing again like nothing had happened.

[sysig]

Nightly squabbles, the usual (Patreon)

[mahi-does-some-art]

Tsubaki: I'll keep all my emotions in here, then one day I'll die.

Someone: arnt you immortal tho?

Tsubaki: yep!

(also for extra awkwardness on Tsubaki's end add Kuro Sakuya and Mahiru already being in their relationship and maybe Tsubaki also gaining a small crush on Mahiru lol)

Im a person who sometimes cannot decide on a fixed pairing for the life of them so I very often write/think about poly relationships for the characters-- I want the answer to this to be poly SO BAD

Whats even better tho is if Tsubaki and the rest of team M had their own thing going on in a way that he's not sure they actually love him like that or not or if theyre all just casual or if maybe they're all just doing it bc he's their Prime and feel like they have to (We all know he's not the most stable about emotions) so Tsubaki's just. So Out Of Sorts now.

He loves his select elite members of his subclass. Truly and with his whole heart-- But now he's in love with his eldest "brother" and they've been spending more time together.

Which makes everything so much worse.

And one of his elites (that he loves) is dating the eve of that "brother"! And because he and Kuro have been spending more time together that means he's been spending more time with Mahiru too and he's been catering more of his meals to his taste and has been striking up a lot of conversation with him...and smiling at him... and it's making him feel...

Warm. And very very confused.

Bonus points if all of Team M think they're all dating and Tsubaki is the only one who doesn't know LMAO. Sakuya very embarrassingly rounded them up and told them that he wants to (also) date Mahiru and pretty much asked if he could bc see: They're all poly. If he just went and dated Mahiru without consulting them it'd be cheating. And they all, including Tsubaki, gave him enthusiastic support so it was a yes so he did it.

Team M thinks they're all dating.

EVERYONE ELSE thinks Team M is all dating.

Except for Tsubaki. Because he's very new to unconditional love and has really bad self-esteem issues.

[holoratives]

some doodles i did in @ascianasahi's whiteboard... if u saw these and ur seeing this post rn hai :3

[amareinmortis]

An actual comic for once, and it’s once again a crossover. (Tags have a small explanation.) Full view for ease of reading.

[yenforfairytales]

We need an AU with teenage!Daniel in cut off shorts and band tees, and his long suffering neighbor young!Kreese (maybe on leave from the army?) who is totally tormented by this little tease.

Daniel, licking a vanilla ice cream slowly, leaning over the fence with his ass out, all sunkissed and gorgeous: Oh heyyyy John, didn’t know you were there!

John, dying on the inside: …hey kid. [Do Not Rail Him. Do Not Rail Him. Do Not—]

Daniel, sucks on the cherry: Mmm!

John: Yeah, jail’s worth it.

And they were neighbors! NSFW!!!!

----

Kreese braces himself as he passes by the nonfunctioning pool in his complex, taking the steps up to his second-level apartment as measured and purposeful as he can.

Because going up the stairs to his apartment means walking by his next door neighbor. There's no avoiding it.

And normally that wouldn't be a bad thing, but his new neighbor's kid has taken to hanging out right in front of his door, leaning over the railing like there's anything in the courtyard worth looking at.

Kreese curses silently to himself as he pulls his keys out, steadfastly facing his door and not the half-naked twink behind him.

Just his luck that the kid and his mother moved in near the start of summer.

Summer means no school.

Summer means the boy has nothing better to do than pester Kreese in the least amount of clothes as possible.

And he is a boy.

Sixteen, the boy's mother had said.

Although, Kreese wasn't much older when his own mother had died and he'd had to find multiple meager jobs to pay his own bills. Not long after when a gun was placed in his hands to defend a nation.

Kreese is interrupted of his musings by an obscenely loud suck.

He turns to see the little cocktease smacking his lips around some melted ice cream. The boy then wraps those lips around a cherry while creamy vanilla drips down the cone in his hand, leaving gleaming trails along a slender wrist.

"Hey, John," the boy says. "Hope you don't mind the mess. I'll clean it up, I promise."

Kreese can tell there's a smirking playfulness in the kid's eyes, even behind the aviator sunglasses he's wearing.

"Hey, kid."

Kreese can feel his pulse race as his heart beats wildly. It's not going to happen again. It's not.

The last time was the last time.

He's stronger than this. He should have never touched the kid-- Daniel to begin with.

But the thing was, the thing was...

Kreese hadn't felt good once since he'd come home from 'Nam. There wasn't a whole lot in his life that had ever felt good.

"Your mom at work?"

----

Gasps and moans fill Kreese's small bedroom as Daniel rides him like he'll die if he doesn't.

His skin is still hot, sunkissed from being outside, and Kreese groans as he watches his cock disappear again and again into Daniel's body as the kid bounces with enthusiasm in his lap. Just like the first time.

"Fuck, fuck."

Kreese is forced to throw his head back against the mattress. It's so good, so tight that he has to keep himself from shouting out.

Wet slaps in rhythm with the squeak of well-worn bed springs.

Daniel loves it. Eyes squeezed shut as he chases the feeling of something deep inside him, building and sparking. He braces his hands against John's chest for leverage; if he can just get John a little deeper, a little harder...

An itch that needs scratching.

John's hands grip Daniel's hips tight enough to leave bruises but glide down, slick with sweat, to squeeze Daniel's ass.

Daniel cries out, breathy moans getting louder as his body clenches around the hard cock inside him. So close, so close...

"Ah-! God, yes- please-!"

Daniel comes almost painfully on a down thrust. Feels it all the way down to his toes.

Kreese follows a second later-- the sounds Daniel makes, along with his body sucking him in deep as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, too much for anyone.

They moan together as they come down from the high. Daniel's hole occasionally clenching in aftershocks that make them both shudder in pleasure.

Daniel collapses over Kreese and nuzzles in close under the older man's jaw, completely blissed out.

Daniel hums happily. "That was great! Why'd you make us wait so long?"

Kreese wraps a muscular arm around Daniel to pull him in close. His other hand running along his own face to fight off the post-coital fatigue. To fight off the disbelief of his situation.

"Three days is a long time to you?" Kreese grumbles tiredly. "Don't come crying to me when your mother suspects something. I'll deny everything."

Daniel's heard this lecture before. Several times. About stopping before getting caught. About how John is too old for him, too bad, too wrong for him, too male. Too, too, too. He grins.

"C'mon," Daniel coos, running his fingers over Kreese's chest. "She's too busy working to notice. And besides, I'll be cleaned up and in bed before she even gets home."

Kreese stops brooding long enough to finally look at Daniel, a small smile forming before he places a soft kiss against the boy's temple.

Daniel snuggles in closer and laughs as they wrap their arms around each other a little tighter.

"I should get going, actually," he sighs.

Kreese grumbles again, placing more kisses on Daniel's cheek. His lips.

"Can I get my sunglasses back?"

"Not a chance."

----

Things continue on like this. Stolen moments whenever they have the opportunity.

John has the distinct feeling that if it were up to Daniel, with his teenage libido, they'd fuck no less than 10 times a day. But as it is, John is only one man, and he keeps the little punk at bay as much as he reasonably can.

He has to laugh at himself sometimes. He'll be lucky if he doesn't end up in Hell, let alone jail.

But since when has John's life ever been fair? And he's tired of denying himself something he wants.

Every day John grows a little bolder. A little angrier. It isn't fear holding him back. Fear doesn't exist.

It's that Daniel could be taken away from him. Separated. Just like--

And why shouldn't he have Daniel?

Who could possibly stop him?

----

John lets out a guttural growl as he comes inside Daniel, hips rolling as he continues to pulse and twitch inside him.

He has the boy bent over at the waist, leaning over him as he's pressed against the wall. They didn't even make it to the bedroom this time, fucking in the hallway after having gotten their pants down.

John pulls out and blows out a breath. His chest feels like he's run a marathon.

They right their pants as Daniel tells Kreese he has to leave soon anyway. His mother had called to say she'd be home early, and who knows when that'll be.

Kreese walks him to the door and smirks as he watches Daniel move a little gingerly. It makes his dick twitch again, but only because he knows Daniel loves the feeling.

Daniel opens the door and spins back around in the threshold.

"Oh! Hey, so I was thinking--"

"Careful. Wouldn't want to hurt yourself."

"--Hah. What a comedian. No, I was going to say, why don't I come over later tonight? You know, when my ma is asleep?"

It's risky. Makes plausible deniability more difficult.

They'd have to be quiet.

Kreese stares into the kid's hopeful eyes. They were initially what had drawn Kreese to him.

That first day when the kid's mother had caught him on his way to work. Introduced themselves to him.

Kreese had looked at the boy, standing off to the side with a defiant pout. Really looked. He had a black eye and was all the more beautiful for it.

Even then, the kid had stood out. Something in those eyes that called to the deepest parts of John and said chase me, I dare you.

His mother had explained that her son was always getting into fights, and Kreese had felt a tiny twinge in his heart.

Memories of being knocked into lockers. Books shoved off his desk. Bruised knuckles and detention.

Now, Kreese looks into those beautiful brown eyes, with their own light as bright and burning as amber, and knows it was always inevitable.

"I'll leave the door unlocked."

----

Kreese shoves Daniel down onto the bed, overwhelmed that they have all night.

He slicks up his cock with one hand while the other runs greedily over miles of smooth, golden skin.

Daniel spreads his legs in invitation, anticipating the first push of the older man inside him.

Kreese lines himself up with Daniel's glistening hole, soft and yielding as he slowly inches his cock into him.

Daniel sucks in a breath through his teeth. The initial stretch and burn always a little surprising, but always welcome.

John pushes and pulls slowly, rocking into the boy, letting the slick sounds of the gentle slide of his cock into that hole drive him even crazier.

Daniel's moaning quietly with every stroke, not that he thinks they'd really wake anyone up, but he knows they both have to reign it in a little, and for some reason that only adds to the little thrill up his spine. He lets out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he tells Kreese.

That's all the man needs to hear to start fucking him harder, picking up a steady and heavy pace.

Kreese spends long minutes in blissful pleasure, but suddenly it's not enough. He rises up on his knees and throws one of Daniel's legs over his shoulder, wrapping his arms around the supple thigh to pull the boy back onto every quickening thrust.

Daniel's huffing and gasping as Kreese starts pounding into him-- a man on a mission. All he can do is grasp weakly at Kreese's thighs, the sounds of the older man grunting and moaning going straight to Daniel's dick.

The orgasm catches Daniel by surprise. He had felt it cresting and just barely had enough time to wrap a hand around his bouncing dick before he was coming and sobbing.

Kreese chokes on a groan as he watches Daniel come over his hand, his own orgasm pulled from him quite literally. He leans over the boy with taut arms, stilling his hips to savor every pulse of his seed into the warm body beneath him.

Daniel's practically useless afterwards, halfway to sleep as Kreese grabs a cum rag and cleans them both up. He collapses on the bed next to Daniel, pulling him into an easy embrace.

After a minute, Kreese gets up again. He sets his alarm for 5am. That should be early enough for Daniel to sneak back into his own apartment.

Kreese frowns at the thought. But for now, he'll let the kid sleep.

----

It's one Saturday that finds Kreese milling around his apartment, waiting for his best friend to show up.

They have plans to look at potential locations for their own karate dojo. A shared dream that went from the enthused talk of young soldiers trying to pass the time to an actual, legitimate possibility.

John smiles as he hears the stomping footfalls of someone running up the concrete stairs. That must be Terry.

He grabs his wallet and keys but pauses when he hears voices outside his door.

One of them is definitely the smooth rumble of Terry's, but the other sounds an awful lot like Daniel's.

They're laughing together.

Something inside Kreese clenches as he flings the door open a little harder than intended.

Terry and Daniel turn to Kreese in surprise.

For some reason what's even worse, is Daniel dressed in nothing but a pair of red gym shorts. Kreese can feel his blood boil inexplicably.

"What do you want?" He snarls before he can stop himself.

Daniel's eyes widen like a deer in headlights before his brow furrows, eyes burning with bright fury.

"Nothin'," he snaps back. "I was on my way out."

Daniel makes a show of walking towards the staircase and Kreese can't help himself.

"Your mother let you walk around like that?"

Daniel sticks his tongue out and lifts one side of his shorts, revealing the black strap of a jockstrap framed around one round butt cheek. He's gone before John can say anything else.

"Jesus," Terry says with feeling.

Kreese has half a mind to run down the stairs after Daniel and beat the shit out of him.

He clutches the keys in his hand until it hurts.

"Let's go," he commands instead.

----

Daniel doesn't speak to him for one long miserable week.

None of the dojo locations had worked out either.

----

Daniel forgives John even if he never did apologize. He tells himself he gets it.

John is kind of like a caveman that way. Jealous and possessive.

It's only because he cares, Daniel reasons.

But he has to explain to John that California summers are ungodly hot. And he only has the one pair of shorts.

His friend was nice, though.

----

John gets a dizzying sense of deja vú as he and Terry shoot the shit in front of his apartment, ready for another day of dojo hunting.

There's a building for lease that looks especially promising, Terry says.

Daniel steps out of his apartment and waves at them as he passes.

At least he's wearing actual clothes this time; a black tshirt cut into a tank top and a pair of denim shorts cut from an old pair of jeans.

The kid could be a little less generous with the scissors, if he'd bother to ask John's opinion.

It's only a minute later when Daniel is bounding up the stairs again, stopping abruptly in front of the two older men.

"Hey, hi, do you guys have a dollar?" he asks excited and breathless with all the youthfulness of his age.

Terry makes a show of patting his pockets.

"Sorry, I'm all out," he says before leaning down towards Daniel conspiratorially. "You want a cigarette?"

Daniel laughs in surprise, absolutely delighted.

"No, no," Daniel honest to God giggles. "My friends and I wanna go see a movie, but I only have enough for the bus. I was hoping I could borrow a dollar? I promise I'll pay it back!"

Kreese is pulling out his wallet and shoving a five into Daniel's hand before Terry can say anything.

"Keep it," he smiles.

Maybe the kid can really treat himself and get some popcorn or something.

Daniel smiles back a little moony-eyed. Clearly wanting to say something he can't in front of John's friend. He moves back towards the stairs a little dazed.

"Hey, thanks. Really. I appreciate it." He bounds back down to the small group of neighborhood kids waiting for him. "See you around!"

Kreese watches them until Daniel disappears around the corner with the other kids.

He doesn't want to look at Terry, who undoubtedly will be looking back at him with every judgement in the world.

Instead, Kreese is surprised to see that Terry is turned away from him, still looking after where Daniel had gone too.

"Hm," Terry muses to himself before swiveling back towards Kreese. "Cute kid."

Kreese says nothing.

"Have you asked him about joining Cobra Kai?" Terry asks.

Kreese blinks.

"I- I hadn't thought about it."

He really hadn't. Daniel? In their world of warriors and battlegrounds? It never crossed his mind.

John catches himself, scoffs. "That skinny punk? He isn't exactly Cobra Kai material."

Terry's staring at him with a hard expression.

Crystal-eyes cold and calculating.

Hateful.

But just like that, the strange spell is broken, and Terry himself breaks out into one of his signature grins.

Even if it doesn't quite reach his burning eyes.

"Well, you have to start somewhere, right? C'mon," he claps John on the shoulder. "Let's get going. We can get some drinks after. My treat."

John stands a little frozen as Terry swaggers down the stairs.

There's ice and dread creeping up his veins. Something John hasn't felt since Vietnam.

Because Terry's never looked at him like that before.

----

[sailforvalinor]

The Little Women musical is one of my favorite musicals and Jo is one of my dream roles, but at the same time I can’t forgive it for committing character assassination by making Laurie a weird awkward dork just to give Professor Bhaer a leg up as a love interest

[orcelito]

I'm probably too much of a vashwood shipper to ever write a trigun fic without them dating, BUT ALSO I really do love vashmeryl so fuckin much. Obviously the solution to this would be to write polygun so I can have the best of both cakes AND ALSO merylmilly AND ALSO wolfwood with the girls. See there's literally no losing.

If only my writing energy wasn't so goddamned limited lol