#nip the crip

[rafeacs]

Best Friend Rafe x Reader Late Nights

Warnings: None (yet), fluff, soft rafe, yearning

To Rafe: r u up?

Not even a minute has passed, and your phone rings with a FaceTime from Rafe. “What’d you need?” He asked, his voice laced heavily with sleep, making you somewhat guilty for disrupting his slumber. ‘I’m hungry,” You say sheepishly, watching as his eyes were barely open and a yawn left his lips. You were expecting him to say, ‘Does your house not have food?’ And brush off your late-night cravings, but he never does. “I’ll be there in five,” was all he said, and you thanked him over the phone, giddy that you’d get to sedate your grumbling stomach. 

You didn’t even bother to get dressed, only wearing your skimpy pajama shorts and tank top as you waited by the porch for Rafe. The crips night air nipping at you and riddling your skin with gooseflesh. When you see the headlights of his truck, you are quick to stand and greet him as he drives his way through the rotund driveway of your estate. You walked towards his truck, not expecting him to get off, but he did just open your door. “Thanks, Rafe!” You chirped, still full of energy, a deep contrast from his tiredness. “It’s two am, why are you still awake?” Rafe yawned once more as you wore your seatbelt. 

“I accidentally drank this energy drink, which I thought was just like regular soda, and somehow it made me fall asleep; weird, right? It’s an energy drink, and it’s supposed to keep me up, but it made me want to take a nap instead. Anyway, I took like a four-hour nap and woke at eight, and I thought I could fall back to sleep again, but I didn’t, and I started to get hungry I then thought I could just sleep away and wait ’til breakfast, but no, so, here we are.” You rumbled on, still full of life, but Rafe simply hummed and nodded as he drove into the street. 

“Where’d you wanna eat? I’m not sure if anything is open right now; our regular diner’s closed for renovations.” Rafe asked, turning to you, who he had only now noticed was not at all wearing anything beneath your tank top. Your nipples shamelessly straining through your shirt, and Rafe quickly refocused his gaze on the road, his morning wood he had just gotten rid of quickly returning. Rafe bit his lip and reached back to grab his sweatshirt, and handed it to you, avoiding looking in your direction because it was too much of a temptation. “Oh, thanks! I was cold,” You say, and Rafe could only nod, the evidence of your chilliness straining through your shirt. 

“We might have to drive around for a bit; nothing seems to be open,” Rafe muttered after a moment as you played around with the stereo system, your phone already connected to the Bluetooth because it was always you who had the command on what songs were played in his truck. Rafe’s sleepy state was awoken when you started to sing along loudly to one of those pop songs you loved. You can’t sing for shit, but Rafe could not help but be amused as you belted out the songs, a rather endearing quality about you. You only truly sang out loud when you were alone or when Rafe was around; you found the action of singing too intimate and vulnerable that you could only do it when you were in his presence. Him being the only one blessed to hear your off-key singing. 

“Why are you so quiet? You love this song!” You yelled through the blasting music, poking Rafe’s side and making him laugh, him finally singing along to the song he would never sing along in front of Topper or Kelce because they’d surely tease him. 

You and Rafe drove around aimlessly, your hunger forgotten as you and Rafe sang along to whatever song played next. You and Rafe had passed by countless newly opened restaurants, but you didn’t seem to notice, and Rafe took advantage of your obliviousness to spend more time with you. It was nearing sunrise when he finally circled around and went back to an open diner he saw a few miles back. Your energy never seemed to run out; you still sang along and randomly blabbed about everything you could think of to your best friend. 

Rafe hopped out of his car as you were still talking about some island gossip, your voice growing distant as he circled his vehicle to open the door for you, who still had not taken a breath in between the words that spilled out of your lips. Rafe sighed and shook his head as he draped his arm around your shoulders and guided you toward the diner. 

“What are you ordering?” Rafe asked you as you perused the menu. “I don’t know…” You trailed, Rafe already guessing that was your reply. “I kinda want waffles, bacon, and coffee, but I also want a burger, fries, and shake…” You said, in deep ponder, what to order. “What can I get for you two?” A waitress appeared, and Rafe turned to her, “I’ll get a stack of pancakes with sausage and a side of hashbrowns on the side,” Rafe said and placed down his menu, “And for your girlfriend?” The waitress asked, and before you could speak, Rafe ordered for you. “She’ll have the waffles with bacon, a coffee, and the cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake.” Rafe quickly said, not letting you pick between the two things you wanted to order. “Okay, it’ll be out in a minute,” the waitress took your menus, and Rafe smirked as she thought you were his girlfriend. Neither of you corrected her because it was often that you two were mistaken as a couple when, in truth, you two were just best friends. 

The two of you were enveloped in silence as you ate, too hungry to focus on anything else than your food. You were halfway into your two meals when Rafe noticed you were too quiet. He raised his gaze and could not help but let out a breath of a laugh as you started drifting off to sleep, your hand still clutching a fork that was filled with food. Rafe bit his lip and took out his phone to take a sneaky picture of you, adding the photo to his growing album of you drifting off to sleep still whilst eating. 

When Rafe finished his meal, he placed the payment on the table and went to your side of the booth to carry your figure, deep in slumber, back to his car. It surprised him that you didn’t wake with all the movements. When he reached your home, he did not even dare to wake you up, simply carrying you again and walking you back to your room before placing you in your bed. Rafe observed your sleeping form, admiring the way your lashes fanned your cheeks, and there was still a hint of maple syrup at the corner of your mouth. The sun was starting to rise, and Rafe’s own tiredness was starting to get to him. He let his hand run along your hair and boldly placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before stepping away, but you took hold of your wrist before he could. “Stay,” you mumbled, and Rafe felt his pulse in his ears at what you had uttered; he didn’t even think twice before agreeing. “Okay,” he whispered and lay on the other side of the bed, his heart doubling as you turned to him and cuddled close to his chest. Rafe wrapped his arms around you and sighed deeply, waiting for the day that you two would do this again, but not just as friends. 

[harrison-abbott]

He tried to sleep but he couldn’t do it.

There seemed no motivation for sleep, physically or mentally.

Couldn’t turn his mind off.

There were far too many issues he had to take care of and

He had no clue how to deal with them.

So he got up after the failure and thought about what to do

With the evening. For the past few months he hadn’t really

Felt like himself, or any other person. When he was a kid he

Used to think he’d be somebody at the age he was now.

And the bizarre thing was that he spent way too much of

His consciousness on a past that wasn’t relevant in the present

Age whatsoever. None of those people were around anymore.

Was it because all of those people had kinda gotten away with it?

Did they have issues with memory as well? Probably not.

He got down to some reading. Current affairs; some fiction;

The latest soccer scores; some short stories from a wacky

American writer that he hadn’t finished yet. All good.

His mind still fully wasn’t working. That was another thing:

He hadn’t been able to switch on properly for about five weeks.

Language was a bizarre contradiction, because, though he loved

Words and books and stories and poems, they sure made him

Think too much: intelligence can be beneficial, but also

Exhausting. Just like the irony that he couldn’t sleep too well

Because he thought too much.

He needed to head up to the supermarket for a few things.

The evening was misty and saturated with semi warmth from

The dying day, and, passing the woods, the leaves were all

Turning from green to blue in the tumbling twilight.

On these ten minute bouts up to the shop he often thought

About people that had whacked him around when he was

Younger. There was that ugly kid who had attacked him when

He was fourteen. This nasty-faced boy who had used his

Height and aggro to headbutt and punch him when he was

That young, for no palpable reason other than to make himself

Feel valiant. And he often thought about finding this boy,

Now, as a man, as men, and getting some violent revenge.

Crazy that that happened sixteen years ago and he was still

Thinking about it in the present arena.

…

He thought about what he was going to do next artistically.

Or what he had done in the past, artistically, and whether any

Of those things had been proper achievements.

It was as if words were constantly attacking his mind from a

Jumble of directions and he had no way to shield them off.

His verbal tics were as worse as ever. They showed no signs

Of improving, i.e., going away, and, as he walked, he would

Tic and jabber and spurt out these words, to nobody whomever

But how own consciousness – his brain couldn’t stop racing.

And, when he got to the supermarket carpark he was still

Doing it. He did it next to the trolley guy with the big beard

Who also worked in the store … and hoped that his tic hadn’t

Been heard. But it probably had. The trolley guy didn’t react.

Inside the store he picked up a bag of onions and a packet of

Broth mix. He usually ate healthily and cheaply, to make up

For the remaining poison intake for most days of his life.

He passed aisles of dead animals and the biscuits and crips

Section, which had their colourful calorific glee in plastic

Bags; passed the chemical section of laundry powder and

Wash up liquid with their glittery carcinogenic tubs and the

Smell of the chemicals nipped his nose, and then he paid

For all of his items at the self checkout. The guy who was

At the checkout was this tiny man from somewhere in

Northern England who had a limp, and there was something

About his vulnerability and working in this shit job

For such a long time that gave off the air of a good man,

Because he was always polite with you and never seemed

Morose. … Back outside. The sky had darkened some.

Grown into somewhere between that blue from earlier,

And purple, but it didn’t belong to a specific colour –

the way skies often are. … On the journey back home he

Wondered whether things would ever be different. He had

Made this journey so many times. With the lurking summer

Woods nearby it was a pretty walk, but the repetition was

Rather like being in an unconcluded dream.

When would his consciousness return and when would he

Be free of the poison – unless it killed him first? It was

Fairly possible that the poison would win.

There were a few glimmers of ideas for stories, he had

Going in his mind, when he went up the last hill back to his

House. A glimmer of sweat down his back and over his neck.

He got back home. He’d still not become anybody by heading

Out to the shop and back, and, two minutes later he was in his

Room again and shut in within the inner island of solitude, that

Was mostly self inflicted. But, he got back to some reading.

A history book this time. Was about what happened to Europe,

Post 1945. As you can imagine, it had some profound detail in it.

So he read that for a while and the knowledge seemed to ease

His personal worries. There was something about learning that

Broke down the troubles of the inner self. If you focused on

Educating yourself then you didn’t have to think about yourself.

And, all the while, the language was heading inwards and you

Felt as if you were growing. Even if you were still as mucked

Up as anybody else was. He read for a while and then he opened

His laptop up and thought he’d do some writing. That’s

What he usually did before he went to sleep again. (Or tried to.)

[noxspost]

in honor of the day of the dead

After October was spent doing prep work for the celebration of this cemetery in Arizona which was closer to the app to the border and side of the state where California was people are arriving the living who were mostly demigods or had demigod family members were there through the use of portal stones everything was being set up the cemetery was a lot more different than most cemeteries Ares had seen this one was bustling with life just how old cemeteries were back then before they became eerie dreary sad places.

Ares was walking through the cemetery as the sight of marigolds and other colorful flowers which are spread through the graves and pathway with the night fast approaching the candles which are placed on the alters carefully as not to damage the whole thing the smell of incenses are wafting through the air as the crip air lightly nips at his ears and nose. The light from the small lanterns and the candle cast a warm glow.

The warm from the candles and small fires which are in pyres which held the fires off the ground. There was no sadness or sorrow neither was there grief and loathing for the lost but joy, calm and liveness and which grew in his bones as he walked along the path as many dead and living join groups and then break away excited for the activities around the place it was welcoming as the living souls brought food to place on the alters and other trinkets.

He could hear the sound of music which made the urge to dance strong with every moment. His ears pick up elders telling stories of the dead parents were speaking with their kids or the younger teens about their dead loved ones.

It warm Ares’s heart as he saw the dead gathering the trinkets and thanking the givers even if the givers couldn’t hear them.

The smell of fresh food wrapped him up in a blanket of comfort it reminded him of when family welcomed back their family who lived through war and it made him happy and calm. The sound of dancing made his ears perk up and he walked over to the open space where he saw the movement of dancers with their feathers, jewelry and riches in their outfits which sparkles and gleams in the light of the lamps and lanterns the sound of metal hitting metal was soft like little bells not swords or axes which Ares often knew but of bells soft and little ones which sounded like rain in spring.

Everything was loud and so full of life it made Ares feel a childlike buzz like when Hestia or hades would tell stories to him when he was young that familiarly he craved and now he had it. He was bobbing his head to the music which became louder and deeper since it began to Vibrate through the ground and up into Ares of boots making it seem more powerful to him filling him with more of this sense of weirdly belonging here he just accepted it

The sounds of rejoicing made him happy and gleeful it was warm and the smells and sounds brought him a sense of calm. He saw the skirts of women who danced to the music in their own way but keeping in the way the other dancer who were honoring their god of death and the dead. The skirt had skulls sewn in and some had belt with real animal skulls on them.

The men were dancing too in skirts they looked like birds with how the fabric followed the will of the wear.

Ares felt so happy that these people could do this without the fear of attacks from others. He then saw a woman with a dark tan skin with this wild head of brown hair which was long and was braided with cloth and twine. On her head as she danced to the music but wilder was this pair of ram horns which ended just below her eyes.

There was gold chains, tassels, rings and discs which wrapped, hung and sat on her horns which was grand which made her small feathers, skulls and gems head piece more eye catching and she was wearing this long and layered skirt and it had different colors which could be seen as she danced grabbing her skirt and spung. Her eyes were gleaming different shades of blue as she wore this quilt warm smile, her eyes were like snake eyes.

The kids around her cheered as she danced wild around the space this part of the cemetery was open for the dancing and food tables and spots where the food was being cooked or kept cool or warm at safe temperature.

This woman had ear plugs which were black stone disc and she had piercing which were simple dots on the upper parts of her ears and she had a moon piercing on her lower lip and she was laughing. her legs were turning into the legs of crows with her feet becoming talons and there was feathers on her legs were her calves should be with gold jewelry chains and gems which gleamed as she pick up her skirt and danced.

Ares glazed around saw many were cheering and doing wordless vocalization to the music as the night went on.

The dancers shook their feathered instruments that made this jingling sound of metal lightly tapping metal they kept themselves low to the ground as they skipped and jumped upon the ground around each other. swirling around in this hypnotic like manor it was entrancing it was intricate with how the feathers bounced and danced as the dancers themselves who dressed in these feathered outfits swirled around each other not in the typical ballroom fashion but in a wild comforting manner.

the drums of the music rang out to Ares’s ears it was this powerful music that radiated within him that held his soul in a grasp that he could not explain there were men and women participating in this dance to honor the god of the dead and of death.

It was so fun to watch. To see how they honored their gods this warm festivity way and it was joyful pride of this beautiful vibrant celebration of the dead.

it was not bleak it was not sorrow and grief filled it was filled with warmth of acceptance they all knew that the people died sure but they knew they’d be safe and they’d all returned during this month and it was beautiful to Ares he had seen other ways that people handled death but the way these people did it.

This made him happy for the Mesoamerican and Mexican people who honored their dead. To them death was a kind and in In a certain way this is loving warm grandma or grandpa like character who was respected and seen something worthy of respect just as life is.

 the dead that were visiting the place had a set in warm miracle orangey like yellow glow them and they seemed to glow with that radiant energy he turned back to the woman who had the horns and he breaks in a giddy wonky crooked smile his eyes sparkling with joy relief and excitement.

 his eyes crinkling as he gave a wider smile to the woman who stopped her dancing and smiled and waved back.

she went to one of the tables and started handing out pieces handing out food all the dead and even the living she gave some gifts to the dead as well like bracelets, intricate weavings with feathers woven in and just random little trinkets like shiny old coins.

Ares was wearing a Black and purple shirt that was bagging oversized his pants were the same but they got bigger the further they went down the leg and he was wearing combat boots.

the pants had many pockets on the outside and he had attached belt chains to the belt loops on the pants. He had on one of the necklaces with a small rat skull on it.

He was looking around still in wonder of all of the dead but the woman with the ram horns was smiling as she was showing gifts to some the dead teens and these gifts were knifes and daggers made out of Obsidian, and it was sharper for the surgeon's scalpel far more dangerous and it was impressive when used in a knife.

he watched from his perch some distance away the hubbub and the buzz around him reminded him of a battlefield soon to be fought but this wasn’t a war or a battlefield soon to become overtaken by fighting fear and a desire to survive this was filled of desire of celebrating the lives of the dead to celebrate the great circle of life and death this was a celebration of joy and happiness and respect for death as well as for life.

After a bit he finally gathered courage to talk to this woman he walked up to this woman trying to be an inviting and not terrifyingly as possible and he spoke trying to be as welcoming but feeling miserably “hello what is your name I saw you dancing earlier.”

well this got the woman confused as she spoke a bit of Spanish and the first language in Mexico that the Aztec spoke he forgot the name he honestly forgot the name of the language kind of made him feel bad but then she switched to English and said “hello I saw you watching me dance as well did you like it?”

 he was stunned and then nodded and then agreed “yes I did what’s your name?” she smiles as she hands out more obsidian knives to the older teenagers that were alive. “My name is Sally Jackson I am a child of Quetzalcoatl.” She had sensed that he was a deity

then out of nowhere this rattlesnake is as long as the kitchen counter and a little bit thicker than a ruler like the long ones teachers used in school. “oh my name is Ares.”

She smiles and nods “cool I assume you met my uncle?” he turned with a quizzical look “what do you mean?”

“well he is also a psychopomp like your brother he guides the souls of the dead to the land of death.” Then she was looking to see this man who had dark skin with his eyes being pools of black and he did have dog fur but it was short and very fine in texture and type. His hair was black like his black fur. He had cut some bangs that covered his forehead slightly and he had his hair cut shoulder length in the back. He had on a small wreath of twigs and feathers. He had a bad foot which made it hard to walk so he had a cane which could be a staff or axe when he needed it. He was the god of deformities he had a bad foot which was a smaller dog foot which didn’t help him walk.

“that guy?” he asked “yes that is Xolotl. My uncle on my father’s side.” He’s nodded and as did I progressed being the first of November they became friends they talked about many things they talked about the truth about Zeus was making fun of him but he could do nothing for more powerful deities for keeping him at bay.

They were laughing as they were talking and Ares was starting to unmask and he was eating the flat bread disks that tasted delicious it was like fire on his tongue in the best ways since it was also stuffed with meat veggies and spices. it was so good and he was also giving small shiny stones to the children who ran up to them. As they talked he soon learned that Sally was not one to show away from starting bar fights and to surprisingly good with a gun she had been taught since she was 13 or 14 years old by her uncle.

who died to cancer which was sad but she didn't really care much because he never really had time for her so she relied on her father to take care of her, her godly parent who was allowed to see her and help her because Aztec gods were not held to that law because they knew when to back off and went to intervene. In turn he gave up some facts about him saying like that he had lost one of his own kids the goddess of harmony to a cruel decision that his brother had made which made Sally mad.

she said in a slightly or not slightly joking manner that she would absolutely storm St Helens and try to kill his brother the god of the forge herself for killing an innocent daughter and her husband by turning the mortal and then killing them thankfully both of them were in Elysium. He had also learned that her own mother Estelle Jackson was the daughter of the Celtic God of the hunt rebirth wild animals and beasts and plants and one of the genetic traits that signified that you were a demigod child of that specific God was the ram horns.

You got them during your childhood and they would grow to what they looked like on Sally she was a descendant of that specific Celtic deity which made Aries really impressed so he had learned that she was both Irish and Aztec.

“So like I was saying where can I find you after this?” she asked “oh in the Fox Cove bar it’s up in New York Manhattan.” This makes her eyes widen “oh I live in Manhattan I’ll meet you there and we’ll have a good bar fight then.”

 she cheekily grinned as she walked back to the food tables he smiles as he walks up to one of the grave altar and places some food and he bows his head as he says “I hope tonight was fun for you my child.”

it was one of his kids who had died in Arizona trying to get to Manhattan NY their name was dusk. Tonight was great in ways and he had possibly made a new friend named Sally Jackson who was Aztec and Irish and could drink like a sailor. 

[speaking0fthedevil]

Forever On Some Fly Shit — Long live NIP Tha Crip! The Marathon Continues. 🏁♿️🕊️✨

[myl0vef0rpics]

ZZZAAADDYYY 💙💙♿👑

[manolo954]

[seanshakur]

[visionarygodz]

Neighborhood

[thebalenciagabastard]

I came in this world cryin and everybody smilin, ima leave this bitch smilin and everybody cryin

[gtgbabie0]

{Cregan Stark knows how to take care of his wife}

You hadn’t meant to stay out so long, just for a small walk, you told yourself however time seemed to slip away from you, as you took in the serenity of nature, how the packed snow crunched underneath your feet, or the soft joyous melodies of birds, the crips air filled your lungs and it felt refreshing, it was good to get out the castle.

However it came with its dangers, ice, and somewhere along your journey you had lost your footing, slipping with a gasp against the stony path your palms grazing against the ragged surface along with your knees, just your luck, you think standing back to your feet with a huff.

And while you take your calm stroll outside Winterfell castle walls, Cregan was losing his mind, going mad with worry as he searches for you frantically and you’re nowhere to be seen, your absence sends his mind spiralling with horrid thoughts.

“She can’t have gone far my lord, I’m sure she’ll return… eventually” Maybe it’s the lack of worry in his tone or the smug smirk that teeters on his lips that sends Cregans’ skin tingling with anger as he turns to the guard.

“Ser Duncan I suggest you go help the rest of the men prepare- no one sleeps until my wife is found” he snaps walking closer to him, “Do I make myself clear?” He asks, trying to bite back the concern that sits on his tongue.

“Of course, my lord” and with that Cregan walks over to the stables a crease haunting his brows as he racks his mind for where you could possibly be.

“Lord Stark! She’s been found!”

Cregan is quick to look over and sure enough there you are, an overwhelming feeling of relief washes over him as he looks at you, bright-eyed with a giant smile, your dress stained with mud and he runs over to you, wrapping your shoulders with one of his furs protecting you from the harsh northern winds.

“Silly girl” he murmurs, urging you into his arms tightly.

You can hear the unease that weaves through his tone and it nips at your heart making you feel a little guilty, "I'm sorry" you whisper.

he pulls away slightly, looking at you with gentle eyes before turning around, “Lyra prepare a hot bath,” he says and she nods curtly, turning on her heels.

You silently scold yourself for causing so much trouble as you look around at all the men and women gathering around, you didn’t realise you were gone for so long, his hand rests on the small of your back leading you back to your shared bedchambers.

“I almost had the whole north searching for you,” he tells you, his big hands cupping either side of your face and he just can’t bring himself to be mad at you, the way you smile so sweetly at him, “I reckon you’ll send me to an early grave my dear” he sighs pressing a kiss to your forehead.

His hands reach for yours, and you gasp as fingers brush against the graze on your palm, “What? What is it- what happened?” He panics, taking your hands and studying the abrasions that adorn your palms with concern.

“It’s nothing, Cregan,” you say pulling your hands away, and before you can dismiss his worries he’s already pulling up the fabric of your dress noticing the blood that stains your knees, along with the small cuts.

“How did you manage this?” He asks, guiding you to the steaming tub, his fingers make work with untying the lace of your dress, letting the sleeves fall down to your arms and he peppers gentle kisses to your shoulder.

You giggle at the memory, “I slipped on ice, it wasn’t too bad” You smile stepping out of the dress, and you're not too sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself, your hands grasping at his arms as he eases you into the bath, the warm water soothes the dull ache in your muscles.

His hand cups at the water pouring it over your skin, “Wasn’t too bad? Look at your knees my love” he says nodding over to your knees that are pulled to your chest, he leans to press gentle kisses to them careful of the cuts, “I’ll go get the Maesters to take a look at it, don’t want it getting infected” he presses a kiss to your forehead and he goes to stand but you're quick to stop him.

“Wait- stay for a second more” you whisper and his face softens, he doesn’t think he could ever say no to you.

He sits back down on the wooden stall, picking up the small jug, “Of course my dear” takes his forefinger resting it underneath your chin as he pushes your head up slightly before pouring the warm water over your hair.

He washes you gently, peppering occasional kisses to your wet skin, “Come on my dear let’s get you warm and something to eat” he says helping you out of the tub, the water now lukewarm, he dries you off with such loving eyes, helping you change into something comfortable.

You sit by the fire humming at the pleasant warmth that surrounds you like a blanket, “Thank you Lyra” Cregan smiles as she places a hot bowl of stew on the table along with bread before walking out of the room with a nod.

“Eat something, my dear, I’ll go get the Maesters,” he says, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Thank you, Cregan” You look up at him as his thumb brushes against your cheek, his chest blooms with love and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

He looks at you with adoration in his eyes, “Of course, anything for you” and you swear your heart stops at his love, the lord Stark of Winterfell, how you owned his entire heart.

[manolo954]

[ihitthefan]

all c’s up cuz

I believe in ada compliance

[bluiex]

I’m here with a few Platnical married Missa and Phil Headcanons.

Ok, but like Missa as the Grim Reaper and Phil as the Angel of Death is amazing.

Phil nipping or kissing their cheeks, crow stuff. Phil doesn’t have a beak so he will most of the time press his nose to Missa and Chayannas cheeks, necks or noses out of affection. (Kissing is pretty platonic to me)

Missa likes to rattle his wing bones out of happiness and press his face into his family’s necks or cheeks out of affection. This works out well for birds will extend their necks usually for grooming, so Missa will softly rub his bone mask to Phil’s neck/cheek feathers and Chayanna’s neck/cheek scales. (I think he hides his wings and casually floats around sometimes lol)

Phil isn’t the greatest singer but is a wonderful chirper, he will chirp in the mornings and when his farming. Missa sometimes will strum his guitar with his chirps for Chayanna because he likes to watch Phil unconsciously match his tune with his guitar.

Missa and Phil have a thing where they talk through the language of flowers, it could be about how they feel or their affection for each other. Chayanna likes to see his dads pass around the flowers he gives them because he knows they’re talking in their own little way.

Both Phil and Chayanna love to sunbathe in the orchard, Missa will stay with them for a bit sometimes when it’s not too sunny. Peeling some fruit for Chayanna while Phil crips in his sleep.

Missa is a Skeleton hybrid with wings and is pretty fragile with sun light. Phil will have him under his wings on really sunny days. They both also get really cold so most nights they have family cuddle session with Chayanna.

Phil made Missa a sun hat to help with his bones due to how fragile his bones are in the sun. Chayanna covered the lightish purple hat in marigolds. (Kristin help make the hat.)

Phil and Missa find this enjoyment of giving and making thing for Chayanna. They can help but give this kid the world. It fills the with joy to see their son happy.

-AAA anon, I’m in a nice mood this day which means Fluff lol

UWAAAAHHH THEY'RE SO CUTE

Chayanne absolutely picks up on their quirks and does it back to them and his friends. Along side his declarations of protection lol

[odubc]

We miss you NIP. Rest east Crip 🏁