#that is by the lamest take i have ever seen

[epickiya722]

Someone really was like "if it wasn't for Yuta's Domain Yuji wouldn't be able to hit them Black Flashes"...

If that's the case where in the fuck was Yuta when Yuji was hitting Black Flashes against Hanami? In Africa.

If that's the case where the fuck was Yuta when Yuji was hitting Black Flashes against Mahito in Shibuya where everyone was fucking dying? In Africa.

You're telling me someone opening up their Domain is why Yuji can hit Black Flashes? If that's the case, what about Nanami? The previous record holder (he would be so proud) of the Black Flashes? I don't recall no Domain being opened for him to hit those Black Flashes. Oh, I forgot only Yuji needs some insane reason to hit Black Flashes.

Yuta, apparently, you're some key or something. Sorry.

Yuta has not been in the fight since what chapter? Chapter 252, got teleported the hell out of there with Rika by Ui Ui. That's been eight chapters. Yet to show up as of 260!

The past few chapters since 256, Yuji has been hitting Black Flashes because now he has been awakened. Like, maybe I'm reading a different manga!

[lueurjun]

ੰ first kiss with enha | ꒰ heeseung , jay ꒱

enhypen reaction—there comes a time in a lot of relationships where the next step is taken, and here’s how the nerve-racking first kiss experience went for you and your mans.

version two: jake and sunghoon.

. . . . . . . ꒰ HEESEUNG ꒱ ,,

he’s a feral boy

we’ve all seen that man flirt and hip thrust HE IS FERAL

so naturally you’d assume he’d be laid back and confident about the whole thing

but when it comes to you, he’s a pile of blushy mush that just cannot comprehend the fact that he’s even managed to bag you

in his eyes, you’re out of his league

bc you’re a gorgeous gemstone! have faith in yourself bby ur wonderful

and without realizing, you actually intimidate him a little

bc ur just so goddamn perfect

an angel if you will

so the idea of kissing you just seems… scary

because what if he doesn’t live up to your expectations and you decide to leave him?

he is terrified of disappointing you so it actually takes him a while to gain the courage

which panics you because why in the world is this man not givin u a big ol’ smooch?

does he not want to kiss you?

omg does he think your breath stinks and is revolted by you?

you’re both massively overthinking it

lil silly billys

and none of you want to bring it up because how do you approach that conversation?

like you can’t just ask him ‘oh yeah, hee, how come you don’t want to kiss me? are my lips crusty? does the idea of locking lips physically repulse you?’

anyways you’re a couple months in

and things are getting serious so he can’t be that sickened by you

and you haven’t run for the hills yet so you clearly don’t want anyone else

finally. he’s had enough

this man is tired of staring at your lips imagining them on his own

HE IS YOUR MANS HE DESERVES SOME SUGAR

to be honest at this point you’ve given up hope on him kissing you, and you’re much too nervous to make the first move

so you just kinda go with the flow

which naturally means that the last thing you were expecting when sliding your cute lil self into his car

was for him to lean over, cup your face and plant one tasty smooch on those lips of yours

you literally froze for like two seconds but once realisation settled in, you kissed that man back in milliseconds

heaven. cloud nine. neither of you wanted to pull away

unfortunately, you had no other choice

so taken aback by the sudden kiss the only thing you could think to do was share a giggle before you held up a bag full of treats for your date

gosh ur both so awkwardly adorable i can’t

“i got us snacks for the car ride! but you taste better.”

you’re so cute stop the little blush on your face after saying the cutest yet lamest thing ever

heeseung cannot resist tugging you back in for another little lip tasting sesh after that because you are the cutest thing to ever exist

he is an absolute simp for you AS HE SHOULD BE

. . . . . . . ꒰ JAY ꒱ ,,

despite being the perfect man material, he isn’t the most experienced when it comes to relationships

like he’s had a partner before, but it was never serious so the milestones just weren’t that important to him

but it’s different with you

don’t roll your eyes at me

idc if that’s cliché okay. it’s jay. you allow it. lose the ‘tude baby cakes i know you rolled your eyes

anyways:)

everything that didn’t seem so important in his last relationship suddenly seemed a thousand times more nerve wracking this time

because losing you is on the line and jay knows that he doesn’t ever want that to happen

suddenly he wants everything to be perfect because you deserve the world and nothing less

hahahahasleepingontheroadtonight

jay absolutely refuses to give you a shitty first kiss

it has to be romantic. and it has to be amazing and if you don’t like it then he will slide down the wall

clutching honey to his chest

sobbing

same tho that’s a mood

anyways yeah he wants to make sure that you get the most romantic kiss ever

meanwhile you’re not too fussed because it’s jay and no matter what, kissing him would be a dream

unless he’s like a really bad kisser but he’s perfect so he’s not

he’s taking his time to prepare everything

like he plans a candle lit dinner, rose petals, the finest food

the whole shebang

lemme be you for one day i beg

but two days before the dinner is set to take place

YES HE HAS A FULL SCHEDULE

the two of you are hanging out like normal and the vibes are immaculate

and you both want to kiss each other

the timing just seems right

but jay, the little dum dum, is fighting with himself

because does he really want all of his hardwork to go to waste?

you’re both leaning in but smoke is practically pumping from his head due to how fast his mind is racing

seconds away from those luscious lips

HE PULLS AWAY

absolute dummy

you’re hurt and embarrassed obviously

bc you just got flat out rejected and that’s just horrifying but it’s fine it happens to us all babe

and jay is panicking because well… you look like you’re going to start sobbing

“is there something wrong with me?”

the crack in your voice. the pain in your eyes. THE QUESTION ALONE

oh dear jay feels like he’s going to throw up

this is NOT how he wanted any of this to go

you start packing up your things to leave which is fair because you’re embarrassed

and jay is trying to figure out what to say or do

and then he just decides to be honest because honesty is the best policy

so you’re about to step out of the door when he gently grabs your arm

“look i’m sorry. i really really really wanted to kiss you… it’s just… i have been planning a perfect dinner for weeks so it would be perfect. i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just wanted it to be perfect for you.”

i’d fold honestly

i have no shame

and neither do you apparently because you can’t help but crack a perfect little smile

“so do i have to wait for this dinner or can i kiss you now?”

BOLD

you’re an icon

jay just kinda smiles sheepishly

and then he caresses your neck and tugs you into one of the softest, most amazing kisses you have ever had

firework inducing even, toe curling, heart thumping-

sorry i’ll stop

the point is, the kiss is AMAZING

maybe you didn’t need a fancy candlelit dinner to make it perfect after all

perhaps, all you needed was each other

i’m legit sobbing someone pls send help

[hopefulromances]

I Feel You - Jamie Tartt x demi!Reader

A/N: Hello to my faithful followers! I'm sorry I've been so inactive for the past couple weeks I've been down in the dumps and sorta uninspired.

But the crazy thing is I've hit 1k followers! What? How is that even possible! I'm planning to put together a little celebration soon but for now, here's an unrequested fic that I wrote featuring a demi!reader on the acespec!

See y'all soon!

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns), Drunkenness, I think that's it

OooO

Jamie had to be the lamest footballer in the world. It was a Friday night and instead of going out and finding a club to get drunk at, he was sitting on his couch reading a bloody book. Fucking Roy Kent had gotten to him, that bastard. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come by so when there was a knock on the door, Jamie was surprised. 

There on his doorstep was (Y/N). Pacing, wobbly, back and forth seemingly trying to take off her shoes without sitting down. 

“(Y/N)?” He opened the door, turning on the porch light. 

(Y/N) was someone Jamie had been friends with for a long time. Longer than anyone else, maybe. She’d grown up with im in Manchester, and gone to college in London when he got called up. When he was busy being a prick and cutting people out of his life, she stayed, refusing to be cut. And here she was, drunk on his doorstep. 

She spun in spot, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. “Jamie!”

She fell forward onto him in a sloppy hug. Jamie caught her in his arms, realizing with a chuckle that she was beyond wasted. He hoisted her up so she was tucked into his side so he could properly assist her while closing the door and turning off the lights. 

“Jamieee,” She sang, sweetly, pulling Jamie with all her might to get them to topple over.

“At least one of us had a good night,” Jamie muttered. 

“It was ‘meh’,” (Y/N) admitted, shrugging. “Felt all wonky all night.”

Jamie pulled her into his bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet seat. She slumped back, as it finally feeling her exhaustion. He filled up his water cup and handed it to her, having to help her put her hand on and grip the cup.

“Drink,” he instructed. 

“It’s like, I’m over here, looking and waiting,” she continued, pausing for a second to glug down a large sip of water. “And everyone else is over there. Falling in love, dating, kissing, and I’m just,” she made a raspberry with her mouth.

Jamie found a cloth and the bottle of makeup remover she’d left at his house one time, dabbing some of the serum on the cloth. He walked back over to her, kneeling so he could be at eye height with her. 

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, starting to dab at her face like she’d taught him. 

“Why can’t I feel that, Jamie?” She whined, leaning into his touch. “Why can't I just find a dude and just kiss him? What’s wrong with me?”

Jamie frowned, pausing his dabbing for a moment. “What do you mean, darling?”

“I just mean,” now she was frowning too. “I try to go on dates, hook up with random guys, and I just feel… nothing.” Jamie, pursed his lips, moving the cloth gently over her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as he swished over her eyelids delicately. “But I’m so tired of waiting… I don’t want to settle anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle,” Jamie agreed softly. 

“But I also don’t want to be alone forever,” she opened her eyes and Jamie stopped washing her face. 

“You won’t be alone forever,” he droned. This was a conversation they’d had before. She was afraid she’d never find the one, and Jamie reassured her that she would. Of course, she would. She was beautiful, and funny, and headstrong in all the important ways.

“I’ve only ever liked one person, in my whole entire life,” she hiccuped. “And he…” 

“He what, love?” Jamie went to stand but she grabbed onto his pants, stopping him from moving away. He looked down and she looked very small. He’d never seen her look so small before. 

“He’s been my best friend since we were kids,” she muttered, looking up at him. “When I look at him, I feel this flutter in my chest. And no matter how hard I try to feel that with other people, I just can’t.” She looked between his eyes. “I can’t.” 

Jamie could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? She couldn’t be. Either way, she needed to go to bed. 

“You… uh… you can stay here tonight, yeah?” He took the cup from her hand and filled it back up. “I’ll go put out some sleep clothes in the guest bed.” 

She looked disappointed when he didn’t acknowledge her rambling, but she nodded, taking a pitiful sip from her cup of water. He watched her a moment before pounding on the sink and walking out to grab a shirt for her. 

As he set up the bed for her, his mind was racing through what she had said. The best friend from childhood that she’d liked forever. It couldn’t be him… could it? Not after everything he’d put her through. 

When he walked back to the bathroom, she’d fallen asleep on the toilet. Chest rising and falling steadily, her eyelashes resting against her cheeks. His chest fluttered as he looked at her, a gentle smile coming over his lips. He slid one arm under her legs and another around her back, resting her head on his shoulder. She curled into him immediately, nestling her nose into his neck. 

He brought her to the room, he’d set up maneuvering her carefully so he could take her clothes off. She’d changed in front of him before, felt comfortable around him, but he still was careful of his hands and quickly putting on more comfortable clothes.

She mumbled incoherently as he laid her down and pulled the covers over her. His hand rested on her cheek for a moment, her face slightly flushed from her night out. He was tempted to get in the bed with her, keep her safe and warm in his arms but he swatted that thought away quickly. Instead he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple.

The next morning when he woke up, he went to check on her, but she wasn’t in the room. Then he heard humming and the smell of bacon filling the air. He padded down the steps and saw her in the kitchen, cooking and sipping on his coffee like she owned the place. He shoved his tongue in his cheek to stop himself from laughing as he watched her. 

She spun around, dancing to the song in her head, yelping and freezing when she saw him. 

“Oh!” She sighed, throwing her hand over her heart when she realized it was him. “Jamie! You scared me.” 

“Scare you? This is my house, you know,” Jamie laughed, leaning across the island. 

She rolled her eyes, sliding a cup of coffee across to him. “Two creams, one sugar, yeah?”

Jamie looked down at the coffee, knowing Roy would kill him if he took a sip. ‘Your body is a temple’ and ‘caffeine is a drug’ and whatever, but she was looking at him so sweetly there was no way he could say no to it. So, he reached down and took a sip. 

“That’s it, yah,” it tasted perfect. No one else made his coffee like she did. “Do you know how you ended up here?”

She slowed her cooking for a second. He couldn’t see her face, she was turned facing the wall, but he saw her back tense just the slightest bit. 

“Uh… I don’t remember, really,” (Y/N) answered. “Just woke up here… figured it was just where I thought I’d be safest.” 

Jamie felt his cheeks heat up, trying to hide it by taking a sip of his coffee. “You, eh, were out with the girls?” 

She turned around, sliding the bacon onto the two plates she’d set out. She was deep in thought, he could tell by the way she picked the skin off her lip, reaching up to pull a piece of hair out of her face. 

“Yeah…” she whispered. “It was Larsen’s birthday. Wanted to go have a hot girl night. Find some guys to go home with.”

Ah. Now he got it. She’s gone out with her friends and they’d all gone home with guys and she was left alone. She was upset because she thought she was unwanted. He grimaced at her. 

“Did Larsen ditch you again? I told you to stop hanging out with her,” Jamie comforted, reaching to grab a piece of bacon. (Y/N) didn’t answer, she just stared down at the greasy meat on her plate. “Oh, c’mon, (Y/N), you can’t really believe that because of one bad night that no one wants you.” 

She furrowed her brow, shaking her head. “No that’s….” She looked up at him, looking back and forth between his eyes. “Do you really think that I couldn’t find one person to go home with?”

Now Jamie was confused. He pursed his lips, not sure how to answer. 

“He was great. Attractive enough, I suppose, saying all the right things,” she mumbled, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “We chatted for a while. But I just felt… nothing.” Her fist open and closed as she fought the nervous energy. “He was kissing me, holding me, doing all the things that should have made me feel… something. But it was like… I felt nothing! It was like there was something blocking my brain from just latching onto something random.”

“He was… kissing you?” Jamie cringed as he said it. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d said it and she looked at him like she was crazy. 

“Yes, he was,” she scoffed, running a hand through her hair. “He wanted to do a lot more but I couldn’t feel it. I didn’t feel anything.” She rested her elbows on the counter, her head in her hands. “God, what is wrong with me? Every other person we went out with went home with whatever stranger they’d met that night. But me? I feel so… stunted.” 

Jamie was surprised by her sudden admission. It wasn’t something he’d felt before, but he wanted her to feel the things he felt for her. The care and softness that he felt for her. 

“I know I want it,’ she continued. “I feel it sometimes… for… one person. He knows me and I know him. And I try to get myself to get over it, to feel it for someone else. Anyone else, but no matter how hard I try. I just… can’t feel it.” She shook her head, pushing herself off the island. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.” 

Jamie stayed still for a moment, figuring out his thoughts. 

“S’okay,” he finally responded. “I’m sorry you feel like that, you deserve to feel loved and wanted.”

Her eyes snapped back up to his, her cheeks turning red, spreading up to her ears. Jamie moved around to the other side of the island so he was right next to her, leaning against her side. She kept staring straight forward, her eyes turning shiny with unshed tears. 

“You said… there was one person,” he implored, pursing his lips into a duck shape. “One person who you felt something for.” 

She nodded, not speaking, brushing her eyes furiously. 

“Who… who is that person,” he asked. 

She let out a shaky laugh, cocking her head before looking up at him. 

“I think you know,” she replied quietly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. He looked at her, letting his hand slide down to intertwine with hers. Her breathing hitched and her chest started to heave. “Jamie, wait, please.” She stared at their entwined hands, scared that it was going to go away. “I can’t… I’m not like other girls. I can’t give you what you want, not right away, maybe not for a long time.” 

Jamie shook his head, moving his free hand up to touch her face. “I don’t want that, all I want is to make you feel loved. All I want is for you to feel how you deserve to feel. And I’m willing to wait however long it takes, and to do whatever it takes to make sure that you feel that love.”

“Oh, Jamie,” she gasped out, reaching up to touch his face too. They stood in the kitchen, the soft morning light dappling in through the windows, holding each other's faces. He looked between her lips and her eyes. “Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“You can kiss me.”

His eyes were big and wanting as he looked at her. “Are you sure? Like really sure, like you aren’t just saying it to make me happy?” 

“No, Jamie, I want it.”

The words scarcely left her mouth when he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers. And there it was. She felt it. She felt that electricity that her friends had talked about. It rocked through her, stealing her breath away as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his coming to creep up her back, lifting her up slightly. 

“Can you feel that, love?” he hummed, in between kisses. “Can you feel how much I love you?” 

“I can feel it,” she responded, pulling back to look up at him. “I can feel you.” 

[stariekis]

ep 3 : matching and everything — note ¹ : first not awkward interaction between our main character who cheered ! now things are getting interesting huh ~ n e ways my loves hope you guys enjoy it mwah <3 wc : 1.9k

You just finished your first class of the day, contemporary art. Hanni wasn't feeling great that morning so you were all alone for almost the whole day.

Not going to lie, you were pretty scared. After what happened the other day, your incident with your 'crush,' you were terrified. The last thing you wanted was to go through the same situation without your friends by your side.

As you walked through the hallway, gripping at your books as if your life depends on it, you saw a familiar figure walking towards you. Once you realize who that person was your eyes opened in complete shock.

The one and only boy with pretty dimples ...

But, before your were able to run away, your hear a sweet voice echoing in the empty hallway — 'Cute sweater' he said.

You turned around, making sure that the pretty boy was actually talking to you. As you looked around you found the place completely empty, so he was definitely talking to you.

— 'T-Thank you so much, yours is pretty cute too' you answered him. — 'Now that i look at it, our clothes are the same color' he pointed out.

Looking at him and then taking a look at your own outfit you realize that that was true, both of you were wearing a blue sweater, black pants and white shoes. — 'Yeah we are matching and everything' that was the lamest thing you could ever say.

You smiled at him, trying to look relaxed even though the nervousness was eating you alive. But after hearing him giggle because of your comment your heart slowed down, nervousness ended up being replaced with a warm feeling.

— 'I guess we do yeah' he dedicated you the prettiest smile your ever seen, your knees shaking under his gaze. — 'I have to go now sorry, see you around ?'

Not being able to say any coherent word you just nodded your head at his words and waved at him.

Your heart was about to explote.

On the other hand, Jungwon wasn't feeling any different from you.

There is something about you that makes him incredible happy. Just a smile from you or a simple conversation like the one you just had is enough to make his day a much better one.

But he was not interested in you, and he definitely does not like you. Then, why did he felt the need to talk to you as soon as he saw you walking down the hallway ? why does he want to know more about you ? why is he wishing to see you again ?

He didn't have an answer to that question, the only thing he knows is that he can't wait to hear the sound of you angelic voice again.

previous — masterlist. — next

tag list (open.) : @wanderers-archive @ikeuizm @wonryllis @iheartjayke @lilacnini @isabellah29 @wwonwonism @bywons @jaeyunluvr @nishislcve @jiamini @ramenoil @copyhanni @ilovejungwonandhaechan @qaifiya

[steddieunderdogfics]

Not sure if it’s too late to suggest fics for the Color Monday Challenge, but I’ve got three.

Blinking red light by cuips_not_cute (Alternating POV; S4). Eddie is facing a massive trial for murder charges, and his lawyer seems to think it’s a lost cause. Steve comes up with an idea to create an alibi that no one in small town Indiana will be able to refute. Yep! It’s a series of sex tapes faked to look like Steve and Eddie have been sleeping together for two years before the murders. Each chapter is typically one to two tapings. It’s very explicit and heavy on the angst! This fic is ongoing and updating regularly.

Three Days on the Red Planet by CaptainHoney. It’s the Mechanic Eddie and Car Guy Steve on Mars. How cool is that?? Steve keeps finding reasons to break his speeder bike so that mechanic Eddie can fix it. It was so unique I haven’t seen a lot of sci-fi Steddie. This is a complete fic.

A Tarnished Copper Boy by PaperBackRibs (Eddie POV). This is my favorite on-going fic right now, although I’m pretty sure the author has said it’s finished. Season 4 Steve is stuck in a time-loop, falling through Eddie’s ceiling at random (yet sequential) points in time, starting with season 1 Eddie. After Dustin explains the Butterfly Effect in the first loop, Steve’s so anxious about ruining the future that he and Eddie decide it’s best if he never talks about it or leaves the trailer. The amount of time Steve spends with Eddie before he blips from existence is extremely inconsistent, leading to angst, whump, and a slow burn. (This could also be used for the Time-Loop theme weekend)

blinking red light by cuips_not_cute

@cuips-not-cute

Rating: Explicit

69,120 words, 6/20 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Sex Tapes, Fuck Or Die, or like...fuck or go to jail for One housand Years, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Spit Kink, Kissing, Making Out, Steve Harrington's Soft Dom Awakening, Soft Dom Steve Harrington, pleasure dom steve harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Sub Eddie Munson, Bottom Eddie Munson, Top Steve Harrington, but also...they switch!, Bottom Steve Harrington, Top Eddie Munson, First Time Bottoming, First Time, Virgin Eddie Munson, Friends to Lovers, but it takes them a reallyy long time to get to that second part, Eddie's facing jail and Steve's like hey we should fuck, to Eddie's utter dismay, Bisexual Steve HarringtonGay Eddie Munson, Lingerie, Blow Jobs, Anal Fisting, the softest gooiest fisting you ever did read, Rimming, Dry Humping, Recreational Drug Use, Edging, Bondage, Safeword Use, Dom Drop, Sub Drop, they get it together i promise, Impact Play, steve being fascinated by eddie's actual ass, Prostate Massage, Drunk Sex, Drunk Kissing, Angst with a Happy Ending, but oh boy is there angst, Wrestling, and with that comes ill-timed boners, orgasms as a negotiation tool, despite being the lamest guy around steve actually has some game, Kink Discovery, Hair-pulling, Praise Kink, Service Top Steve Harrington, Multiple Orgasms, Friends With Benefits, kindaaaa, they are definitely friends who fuck each other but there's some twists, Spanking, sweat kink, idiots to lovers, Mutual Pining, Wet & Messy, Hand & Finger Kink, Sex Toys, Ass Play, Miscommunication, Felching

Summary:

A sex tape is…crazy. It’s totally crazy. It wouldn’t work, and it's worse than any of Steve’s other ideas because…well, because Steve is straight. And hopeful. And stupid. It wouldn’t work. “No way,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna make a fucking sex tape.” Steve leans down, gets in his face. Eddie’s breath hitches. “Why not?” Steve asks. “You scared?” In the months following Vecna's death, Eddie is facing triple murder charges and a lifetime in jail. With Dr. Owens gone off the grid and a town that hates him, that plea deal his lawyer offers him is looking pretty sweet. Enter Steve Harrington, who is having none of that.

Three Days on The Red Planet by CaptainHoney

@grandmastattoo

Rating: Explicit

10,872 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator chose not to use

Tags: Space Western AU, Sci Fi AU, Western AU, what if stranger things but on mars, literally a bog standard steddie fic but they're on mars, eddie has a mechanical arm, the upside down monsters are all aliens, enemies to lvoers speedrun, eddie thinks it's enemies to lovers but it's actually dumbass4dumbass, non-detailed mentions of medical procedures, injury description, references to blood and gore, this is all reasonably gentle but there's Past Trauma, tommy H the experimental town bicycle that you are, brief mentions of past underage sex, Open Ending, sci fi in the classic tradition in that I made a bunch of stuff up, written with the wikipedia page for Mars open and unperused, completely innaccurate space science, anti-capitalist and anti-colonial themes because fuck the man, implied childhood neglect, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Virgin Eddie Munson, Intercrurual Sex, lots of spit and crass talk, 60s pop culture references because Mars is behind the times, wayne is supportive but very annoying about it, Southern Eddie Munson, they have mcdonalds on mars for some reason but it sucks very much, borderline orgasmic fig eating experience, cyborg eddie kinda, a lot of lotion used as lube but at least their dick skins will be soft, Unprotected Sex, the inherent tragedy of being the only gay man on mars

Summary:

"A hiss as the speeder’s roof lifts and oh, Eddie knows this asshole. Rich boy, pretty as sin, heir to his daddy’s Earth imports business. Papa Harrington has the kind of monopoly there ought to be sanctions against, has his fist around the throats of most of New Indiana. And now here’s the prodigal son, slumming it in the dust of the Munson front yard. A man might get ideas with a thing like that, the kind involving ransoms and the wrong end of a raygun."

Thanks for the recs!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

[desceros]

Mikey and reader baking Christmas cookies together and turtle of choice watches feeling all soft and warm seeing their significant other being close with their family

Leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, Leo watches you with what he knows has to be just the dumbest, sappiest face in the world.

"Oh, god," you say, looking down at your clothes where you're covered in flour. Stupidly, you look up at Mikey, who does a double-take when he sees you and starts dying of laughter, hands on his knees and bent in half. "Mikey! I have a date later!"

"Well, at least Leo can thank you for the, uh, flour," Mikey says, making you groan and roll your eyes.

"The lamest pun I've ever heard. Literally. Zero out of ten. And I'm dating Leonardo."

Hell yeah, you are, he thinks fondly, lips quirked into an adoring smile as he watches you pluck your sweater away from your torso with despair. You're so fucking cute, and the pout you send Mikey when he starts giggling again has his stomach twisting with delight.

He's known, always, that you were special. But this—seeing you with his little brother, seeing you give up looking perfect and roll your sleeves up to help him mix the cookie icing, seeing you burst out laughing when the mixer explodes a bit and this time Mikey's the one who gets covered in confectionery...

God. He loves you. He loves you.

He's said it before. Casually, after a quick kiss, before hanging up the phone, when you giggle into his mouth as a greeting. But this—this immense, impossible thing swelling inside of his chest as he watches you grab a handful of cookie dough and shape it into the ugliest lump he's ever seen in his entire life, even with Mikey's careful instructions over your shoulder—is so, so much. He wonders, a little, how he's still able to breathe when his heart has surely taken all the room in his chest for how full it feels.

...And then, with his eyes slowly drifting to your bare left hand, watching you smear some food coloring onto Mikey's shell with a snorting laugh, he makes a mental note and smiles.

[paintingraves]

wilson’s new obsession is bad puns. when he’s not busy with pressing hospital matters he makes a game out of cornering house at every turn and hitting him with the worst, stupidest, lamest puns he can think of. he looks them up at night before bed and memorizes a dozen of them for the next day, giggling to himself under the covers. 

the first few days, house ponders what wilson is up to. if this is to distract him from some bigger, elaborate prank. but he quickly understands that it’s nothing of the sort, just wilson having some fun and sharing some particularly bad humor with his friend, so he indulges him. 

wilson delights in the tired yet expectant look on house’s face when he barges into his office at all hours of the day. he plays the game and tries to find the answer to wilson’s puns before he says the punchline, but he can’t guess them all and wilson always has the last word. he leaves house’s office laughing and their little game carries him through the day, when he has to take care of the dying and announce news to patients. 

it goes on and one day they’re at the cafeteria, eating together. well, wilson eating and house stealing half his food. wilson hasn’t made a pun all day and house wonders if the game is over, or if wilson just isn’t up for it. knowing he’ll regret this, he asks, “cat got your tongue?” and wilson looks up. he knows immediately what house is asking for and he beams at him. 

“oh, god, forget I asked,” house quips, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. 

“no, wait, i’ve got a few good ones.” 

house groans and sits back down and has to listen and answer to some more terrible puns. one of them is so silly it makes wilson cry from laughter - he can’t even say the punchline before he starts breaking into peals of laughter again - and it’s contagious and house laughs too. they must look weird, sitting there barely able to catch their breath as they laugh - and house hears wilson calm down as he tries to catch his own breath, and he giggles again, and looks up and - 

and wilson is looking at him with the softest smile he’s ever seen, cheeks pink, his gaze unbelievably fond. and house feels his heart skip a beat, and thinks - oh. oh. 

because how could anyone look at him like this, with so much love? how has he not noticed before how much wilson cares? 

“you...” he breathes, and wilson ducks his head. 

“your fries are going cold,” he says, and eats one. 

“you love me,” house says, still struck dumb. 

“of course i do, house,” wilson replies without skipping a beat. “god help me, you’re my best friend.” 

“no, no,” house insists, leaning over the table and peering at wilson’s face. “i mean, you love love me.” 

wilson says nothing. he seems to pause, looking for words. he abandons his food and crosses his arms, and softly, he says, “yes. of course i do.” 

and house can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“it’s okay,” says wilson, getting up, with another infuriatingly soft smile on his face. “i know you don’t feel the same way, house. i don’t expect you to. i thought you knew, though, had known for a long time. i didn’t exactly hide it.” 

“you thought i knew? how could i have known?!” 

“well. everything, really.” wilson waves a hand vaguely. “anyway, i have to go back to work. this doesn’t have to change anything. i’m still gonna make terrible puns tomorrow, and i hope you’re here to hear them. good luck with your patient.” 

and just like that, he’s gone, and house is left alone with that revelation, his mind reeling, his heart beating in his chest like he’s just run a marathon. 

holy fuck. 

[jackdaw-kraai]

Everyone tagging my addition to a post about how fucking cool my little sister was at fourteen and has been every year since to say that they were an absolute cringe fest at fourteen: one, it was about my rad as hell baby sis, it’s okay, not everyone can be as cool as her

And two: be kinder to yourself. Just because you were in the awkward second stage of your pokemon evolution line doesn’t mean you didn’t rock hard. You had the whole world stacked against you and the monumental task of finding out who the fuck you were while every adult was telling you you were either acting like an idiot or had nothing to look forward to. Do you even comprehend how unfair those odds were? How unfair it was to ask you to not make mistakes trying to figure out how to be an independent adult figure while everyone who already was an adult talked down on you instead of helping? How absolutely fucked it was to dismiss you as an idiot and as embarrassing just because you were young?

You were awesome at fourteen years old, no matter how lame, because you’re now here and you survived that fucking gauntlet of never-being-enough for long enough to realize you don’t need to give a shit. The only job you have now is to not be that same jackass adult to the next batch of fourteen year olds trying to climb their own Everest that is figuring out who the fuck they are by talking down on them like they’re idiots or chronically cringe or whatever the hell the kids are saying these days.

Kids are cool. They rock hard. Probably harder than you do if you’re actually bullying the younger version of you by calling them an idiot or cringe or uncool or whatever the current trend is.

I was a lame fourteen year old because I actively wanted to be, and figured that being lame was the best way to survive into adulthood without get ground down by the boot upon my neck. And fourteen year old me was right, making them the coolest fucking lamest fourteen year old as far as I’m concerned.

That fourteen year old fortnite dancing or making tiktoks or doing whatever kids are doing these days is cool as shit because they’re earnestly trying to figure out who they are and taking joy our of things even if they’re silly or adults are telling them they’re idiots for enjoying it instead of being miserable and depressed to “build character” or some horse shit. And they’re cooler than you if you’ve become the type of adult who talks down on teenagers doing that kind of stuff and having fun while doing it. That’s some “I’m not like other girls/guys/people” horseshit if I’ve ever seen it. Knock it the hell off and start rediscovering what fourteen year old you already knew: that earnestly trying to find out who you are is a process that necessitates mortification and that anyone who willingly and genuinely submits to that fact is more mature than anyone mocking it could ever dream of being.

And if you’re fourteen years old and reading this, or just a teen in general having to figure out who you are while all the adults in the world seem to be shitting on you out of some kind of projection of their own issues onto you and yours? You’re stronger than they are already. Don’t let them fool you, they’ve got it no more figured out than you. Continue whatever you’re doing as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone and you’ll be fine. In fact, you’ll be cool as fuck. And that’s a certified adult opinion.

[underforeversgrace]

purple and red

DannyMay 2023 Day 2 - Backpack

Title: purple and red

Words: 881

Complete

Jack knew that backpack. He knew that bag on sight, he’d seen it for so many years, slung over his son’s shoulders.

“Mom!” A sixth grade Danny whined. “It’s purple! That’s a girl color!”

“Now, Danny,” Maddie sighed. “Colors aren’t gendered. Gender is a social construct, understand?”

Danny grumbled, holding the new purple backpack in his hands, tags still attached. “And Fentons don’t follow what society says just because they say it.” He said, a mantra he’d heard his entire life.

Jack smiled, slapping his son so hard on the back he was flung forward. Mercifully, he was able to catch his small son before his head slammed against the wall. “Oops! Sorry, Danno!” He patted his shoulder with a more appropriate strength. “But that’s exactly right! Just because the majority is louder doesn’t mean they’re right. From gender to ghosts, it takes good people to be brave enough to challenge that.”

“I don’t wanna be brave, I just wanna be normal.” Danny said, though he no longer was acting like the backpack was a spider trying to bite him.

“Being normal is vastly overrated.” Jack said.

“And the bravest ones are those who come when called whether or not they want to, anyway, not the ones who parade in gold.” Maddie said, brushing back his long bangs and pressing her lips to his forehead.

Danny rolled his eyes, though he finally plucked off the tag, pulling it onto his back, where it was almost laughably too large for him. He’d grow into it, Jack knew. “That is the lamest thing you’ve ever said, mom.” Danny said, though his eyes lit up as he laughed.

He stepped closer to it. Even shredded and burnt, it was undeniably his son’s. What was it doing here, behind a dumpster in an alley?

“It just doesn’t make sense to me, Dad!” Danny, now in his final year of middle school, said. He jerked several papers from the backpack, crumpled as they were at the bottom. “I just can’t understand it! Quadratic equations are the single worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Jack laughed, moving the backpack to the floor so he could take the seat it had been in. “Lemme see, Danno.”

Danny grumbled as he flattened it out, pushing it in front of his father. “It’s all a foreign language to me.”

“Then it’s a good thing I speak this language,” Jack said, ruffling his son’s hair.

Why was it in a pool of red? What was the red seeping out and growing larger from behind the dumpster, where Jack couldn’t see?

Jack studied the backpack on the floor by the door. It looked too full, nearly to bursting. What did Danny have in there? It certainly wasn’t his schoolwork, if his recent report card was any indication.

He’d still been considering looking through the bag when Danny hurried down the stairs from his room.

“There it is!” Danny said with a relieved sigh, lifting the backpack with ease, despite how heavy it seemed to be, if the way the bottom of the bag stretched was any indication.

A smile and a wave to his father and then he was gone, returned to his room.

Forcing his feet forward, he fought down the nausea creeping into his stomach, into his throat. He had to see. He had to know.

“I know the ghosts are a concern, Mr. Fenton.” Lancer said from behind the desk, the backpack resting between them. “But these are still weapons.”

Danny sat beside his father, staring firmly at his hands. “They can’t hurt humans.” He protested.

“Yet you were burned earlier when one of them accidentally got set off.” Lancer responded.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again, no more weapons.” Jack had said, trying to give his son an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he did.

Danny just pulled away from him.

A teenager sat there, black haired and clutching at the bleeding stump of his arm, severed at the elbow, crying and clutching it against himself as tightly as he could. The weapon Jack had just shot at the infamous ghost boy, that had sliced through him, clattered to the ground.

“Whatever, Dad.” Danny said as he pulled his backpack from the GAV, Jack having given him a ride to school.

“Son…” Jack said, grasping at straws as he tried to recover the conversation. All he’d done was make a joke about how much fun it would be to feed Phantom into the Ecto-Converted that powered the vehicle.

“What if you’re wrong about their ability to feel pain?” Danny had asked after, having been silent for too long, not laughing at the joke.

“Then they’re still just ghosts,” Jack had answered. “Still just imprints of humanity. Their pain isn’t real.”

“But it feels real to them?”

“They’re ghosts, son. No one cares.” Jack had said, pulling up along the curb.

"I thought we were supposed to stand up for people who society didn't care about? Be brave enough to challenge it?

"For people, son. We do that for people."

Danny had slammed the door and walked away before Jack could say anything, leaving the man confused and sad. What had he said wrong?

Danny’s head shot up at the noise, blue eyes filled with pained tears.

“Dad?”

[daincrediblegg]

I’ve been seeing some complaints about Hari’s wig so I’ve decided to use my arcane knowledge of Jared Harris images to rate some looks from 1 (I’m questioning my choices) to 10 (I’ve never been more right) in order to prove the point that that wig wasn’t even the worst look he's ever had. Not even close.

1. the jaz haz of receiving psychic damage. With the exception of the moustache he is perfectly fine (honey. Listen. It just doesn’t work in this case. ily) but also him making that face specifically like he’s psyduck personified is extremely funny to me. 7/10

2. He looks like he could conceivably be in mortal kombat??? But also his fatality move would be the lamest shit ever? Babygirl you don’t fight like that. Put those things down. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Simultaneously I feel like I’ve stumbled onto the set of a very strange porno from the 70’s and I’m actually a little uncomfortable (again. Honey. You can do better with the stache thing. I’ve seen it. There are some good images with you in a mustache. It’s not this one tho I’m sorry) 5/10

3. The fuckin wig. Listen. Y’all in the hair and makeup department do wonderful things on this show. Really. I mean that. But what made us say that this is the move? Who said “young Hari, huh? I know what to do” and then made him a fucking beatle in the worst way possible (though I can’t entirely fault them- wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this). Though I suppose they didn’t want us to forget that this show is a comedy, and at least they’re aware of that. 5/10

5. … who is he? He came out of the fucking woods with the most unimaginable stank and breath of haggis. I literally am completely baffled by his presence. Perhaps a little perturbed by it. Perhaps a little turned on. Who knows. Schrodinger’s rating: either 2/10 or 6/10 depending on how desperate I am

6. Literally the ideal man. I don’t know what to tell you folks but you’re lookin at him. He looks like he just stumbled out of an elton john houseparty at 3am and is still riding out his ecstasy high and if he asked me for my firstborn child I don’t think I or any godly creature could possibly refuse him. 100000/10

7. Orenge. This one I felt merited 3 consecutive images bc the frequency of this appearance astounds me. This man like my father before him has held onto his yellow sunnies from the 90’s for far too long. There has never been a more depression image ever shot than that first one and it was really mean of the person who took this to do that, but also it’s a mood somehow. Can’t shake the combo of this with the buzz tho like thats… buddy there are better choices. I am glad you are making them now but damn. 4/10

8. Danger Will Robinson… you’ve been assigned old man at birth by production crew. Even that benjamin button cunt didn’t have it this bad. EVEN WIG BOY HARI SELDON DOESN’T HAVE IT THIS BAD!!!! I deadass want to take him home and put him in a bath and make him bathe in conditioner for a week. 1/10

9. Now look here sonny jim. You can’t do this to him. Like I’m sorry. What was the logic here, disney? You make a man look so unabashedly GORGEOUS with the long red hair and the outfit and the whole thing? Only to have him say fuck all?? You don’t deserve him. NONE of you deserve him. I want to take him to a whore house in red dead redemption and fuck him silly. I want justice for the bitches that wronged him. 9/10

[fanfic-scribbles]

Safe Keeping

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Sometimes, pushing your boundaries can lead to something good.

Quick facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Agoraphobic!Reader, a bucket o’ fluff

MCU Timeline: Set at some point post-Avengers

Words: 4268

A/N: I was actually writing a different agoraphobic-focused Bucky/Reader slice-of-life fic but that became too long and too much of a slow burn for me to be able to focus on right now, sadly, so I tried something different. I might go back to it later (I definitely have no problem writing the same concept more than once) but I like how this came out :]

~

It’s early. It’s (relatively) quiet. You’re restless. The conditions are perfect for a walk; all you have to do is…leave. The apartment. Easy.

Right.

You sigh and check your pockets for the tenth time. You have all the essentials, you aren’t going far, you don’t have to go for long, or even further than the block if you decide you really aren’t up for it; all you have to do is…try.

And yet all you can do is stand in front of your door. Do you have to do this? One walk isn’t going to set your life right–

No; this is important. You haven’t left in days, and walking is good and healthy and maybe you can get a coffee or something else nice after you’ve been outside for a little while. As long as the shop isn’t too crowded, but it’s so early that odds are good.

Okay, you have a plan: attempt a short walk, and after the timer goes off you can beeline to a nice quiet coffee shop for a little treat.

You put your hand on the doorknob before you can second-guess yourself (maybe sixth or seventh-guess at this point, probably) and open the door–

–right as someone’s walking by.

You blink and jerk at the brief jump scare but the guy actually jumps and spins towards you. You can’t help it– you let out a little snort. The guy is huge and looks like he wouldn’t be afraid of anything, so seeing him look mildly alarmed and then blush is…funny. He also looks vaguely familiar but you chalk that up to having seen him around before. You don’t like leaving the apartment, but you do (unfortunately) have to do it on occasion.

“Um…sorry,” you say. Maybe this was a mistake after all.

“No, it’s fine, you just…startled me.” He smiles weakly, looking tired. Maybe he was on shift all night. After a brief exchange of “good morning” he keeps on and you…well it’s stupid but you can’t go back inside now, when he’s still down the hall. That would be weird, to open the door and just shut it again.

You knock your head against the side of the door and step outside, and curse your bright ideas as you slip your key in to finish locking up. However, you feel…odd. When you look, you see the guy you scared, staring at you from a few doors down.

“Sorry.” His smile curls a little more, skewing more towards ‘amused’ right out of ‘forced.’ “Do you have a doctor’s appointment or something?”

“Uh…” This is way more human interaction than you were hoping for. This morning is off the rails and the sun isn’t even fully up yet. “No? Why?”

“You just sound like you really don’t want to be out,” he says and turns the key in his lock.

You make a mental note to watch your volume. You’re both fairly quiet even now, but you didn’t think you were that loud just muttering to yourself. “No, no appointment. I mean, I don’t really want to go, but I’m just…taking a walk.”

You brace yourself, for a weird look at the very least, but he still smiles like that isn’t the lamest thing he’s ever heard. “Good for you,” he says, unexpectedly sincere and warm, and opens his door. For a moment you dare to hope that’s it, but he stops and looks at you again. “I moved in a couple months ago but I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I’m Steve.”

He probably has and just doesn’t know it; you’re not exactly memorable. But you introduce yourself, and after a pleasant goodbye he finally goes inside and shuts the door.

You hit your head on yours. Again. But you make yourself lock the deadbolt and turn away. Yes, it is good for you, and so you’re going to get outside, take your stupid walk, get your stupid treat, and come right back home where it’s safe and you can be alone again.

~

Leaving the apartment every single day seems a little much. You’re trying to get out more, but baby steps are necessary lest you give in to the desire to crawl under the covers for the rest of your life. So you take it easy.

Still, even days later you’re surprised when you run into Steve again. People come and go so much and you don’t really see neighbors all that often as it is (by design, of course), so it nearly brings you to a stop when you enter the laundromat so late it’s technically early and see him there, in a stupidly tight t-shirt, stuffing his clothes into a dryer. He glances over and does a little double-take, but he smiles and nods politely and that– that’s easy to replicate, so that’s what you do, before you go find a washer.

The bench by your chosen machine is broken. The next one is…kind of gross. You look around but, naturally, the only decent one is partially occupied. And, wouldn’t you know it, Steve sees you coming and smiles knowingly, before gesturing at the open half.

“Sorry,” you say as you sit down.

He shakes his head. “Nothing to apologize for,” he says with a light chuckle, and goes back to his book. That’s a relief, and you settle in with a slight turn to keep a line of sight on your clothes as you pull out your own book.

“Do you work night shift?”

Apparently he can multitask. Well, he was nice enough to share his seat. “Not exactly,” you say, then just admit, “Shitty sleep schedule.”

“Oh.” He smiles a little more crookedly and says, “I get that.”

It sounds sincere, and after that you both settle into comfortable quiet.

It’s good to have a nice neighbor.

~

You’re trying to take another walk.

You have been spending all that energy pacing in front of your door just trying to get out. Nothing’s going to happen. But what if it does. You don’t have to go far. But then what’s the point.

And now you just feel bad again, because it’s just a short walk, this should be easy. Okay, step one: open the door.

You open the door.

And you…stand there.

A door opens down the hall and in a panic you shut yours again and put your back against it. You hold your face. “I can do this, I can do this, I can do this,” you mutter, but the words feel empty, and you drop your hands and let them hit against the wood.

This is so stupid. Why do you have to leave for an aimless walk that doesn’t even do anything. Why can’t you just leave for a measly half hour? Or ten minutes? The odds of getting stuck, or something bad happening, is all so miniscule, so why can’t you just stop thinking about it, why can’t you pull yourself together, why–…why…

…Why is there a piece of paper on your floor.

You squint at it. It doesn’t look like any of the paper you have at hand. It’s way too small to be a flier. God, did you pace so much that whoever lives downstairs has come to bitch you out in writing? With a sense of dread you reach down, pick it up, and, after a few seconds to steel your nonexistent nerves, unfold it.

‘You can do this!’

You stare. The little smiley drawn next to the pretty cursive makes a small smile form on your face. It’s…cute. Not a passive-aggressive complaint. Again, you wonder just how loud you were being that someone could hear you just walking down the hall, but the thought flits away. You bite your lip. You don’t want to leave still, but…the person is gone already. No one is around to see if you step outside the building and decide you really, really can’t do this. …And if there is, well, you can just pat your pockets and run back inside like you forgot something. Not like it would be the first time.

You take a deep breath, and look at the note one more time before you fold it back up and put it inside your pocket.

You can do this.

~

It’s a week later you get some unexpected company on your walk.

You glance over as someone comes up on your side, a little closer than most, and when you see it’s Steve you pull down your headphones and exchange polite greetings.

“How’s the walk?” he asks with a bit of cheer in his voice it still feels too early for.

“Not the worst,” you say and look over his well-appointed but heavily breathing self. “How was the…marathon?”

He smiles, and it’s surprisingly beautiful. It might be the first real expression you’ve seen him make, you think. “Refreshing,” he says and rolls his shoulders. His watch starts beeping and he glances at it before sighing heavily. “One more,” he murmurs to himself and silences the alarm before his eyes narrow at the path ahead.

“You can do this,” you say, perhaps a little too quietly. But he actually jolts in surprise, then flashes you an outright grin– before he takes off fast enough to put racecars to shame.

You watch him, and feel a little bloom of…contentment. Maybe coming outside today wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

~

You keep the note in your wallet. Its stupid, maybe– Steve’s just a neighbor you know very little about, (aside from the realization about his heroic extra curriculars that had made you overthink every interaction with him for a good two days), but his scrawled cursive becomes a little lodestone, a way to focus when things feel like too much. When things actually are too much the words don’t matter, and you can return home without too much guilt. But sometimes…sometimes they help you keep moving forward.

Right now you want to keep moving forward. There’s a record shop by your apartment you’ve noticed from your walks and you really, really want to go inside and check it out. However, it is also small, and so it is also easily crowded almost all open hours. You’ve used three walks already just going past it, looking longingly inside and unable to handle the way you can hear the person behind the counter greeting everyone who comes in.

But today. You left the house without hesitation, you have your note and have checked it five times, your resolve has strengthened with each read, and you have no urge to run back and hide behind your door. Today is the day you are going to go in, and the person is going to say hi, and you are going to say hi back, and you are going to browse to your heart’s content, and nothing bad is going to happen.

(Also you checked all the photos available on the internet and you have a good idea of the layout and where you want to go. Because it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.)

Anyway, the point is– you can do this.

…Eventually. You still have a good five hours before it closes at least, so there’s no rush. However, standing, pacing, and just generally being outside of it wanting to go in is starting to get a little boring, if nothing else. Either you’re going in or you’re going home.

You take out the note and read it again.

“Oh.”

You jolt and turn, and there’s Steve, looking mildly startled. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, smiling, and puts his hands up. “I was walking by and saw you and I wanted to say hi.”

“Oh. Hi.” You slip the note away. His eyes glance to it and you swallow. Is it stupid, that you like the note so much? Is he going to think you’re a creep? “You did…that was from you, wasn’t it?”

He ducks his head and looks a little embarrassed. “I heard you saying it to yourself when I was passing by and thought you might…need a pick-me-up. I’m sorry if that’s weird; my hearing’s really good and I don’t listen on purpose.”

“It’s okay. I…I really like it. Thank you,” you say.

His smile returns, and he looks at you. “You really don’t like leaving the apartment, do you?”

Understatement. But a polite one. “I don’t,” you say. “But I also don’t…I don’t want to be stuck. Either outside or in.” You glance at the shop and sigh. “It’s a weird catch-22.”

“Sounds tough,” Steve says, and his sympathy, as ever, seems sincere and not forced. “I’ve been in there before; the owner’s really nice. If I go in first, I can talk to him, and you can come in after me.”

It’s hard not to look at him like he was sent from heaven. Hero, sure, maybe, but this…this is kindness you’d never be able to ask of anyone. “Really?”

His smile grows, and he nods. “You can do this,” he says.

Well, when you have a handy distraction, sure. But you just nod and walk across the street with him. You stop and pretend to fiddle with your phone while he goes in, and when you hear him and the store owner greet each other you take the chance and slip in. Aside from a quick “hello!” you’re left to wander the aisles of records, CDs, tapes, and memorabilia all on your own.

It’s not often you’re actively glad you left the relative safety of your own home, but today is one of them.

~

It’s still probably not normal, how much effort it takes you to get outside, and how easy it is to make you run for safety, but you’re more or less able to make walks a regular thing– at least three times a week, if you're having a good one. Early in the morning, so that you don’t have to deal with as many people. And Steve starts joining you for portions of them. He still likes to zoom past on his runs, but on cool-downs he doesn’t seem to mind keeping pace with you. Both of you are fairly quiet but the silence is as easy as the occasional chatter, and sometimes you can even make him laugh. It’s strange to be comfortable like this, to have someone comfortable with you like this, but you try not to think about it too much.

“Do you…want to get a coffee?” he asks abruptly one day.

That is an excellent opportunity. “I found a place I’ve been wanting to try,” you say, trying not to be too excited, but by the grin on Steve’s face you fail a little. “If you don’t mind. It’s…harder to run away when other people are involved.”

“All right,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

~

Steve is nice to have around. He stops by sometimes to ask if you feel like coming out, and doesn’t take offense when you say no. Then for a week it’s…quiet. And the week after that. You go out for a couple of walks at a time you definitely know he likes to run, but he is nowhere to be seen. You hesitate by his door once wondering if he’s all right, but knocking gets you nothing. It’s probably for the best– you don’t know what you’d say– but as you slink back into your apartment you’re left with a feeling of unease.

~

“Hey.”

You jump at the sudden voice by your shoulder but Steve doesn’t get a word in before you gasp his name. “Are you okay?” you ask and look him over. There’s some scraping on his cheek but it looks nearly healed. “Were you in an accident?”

“Um…” He looks nearly sheepish as he smiles and says, “Not exactly?”

Oh, right– ‘Avenger’ and whatnot. Naturally it only now occurs to you that maybe you should have checked the news, but…maybe it’s better that you hadn’t. Absently you reach out to gently touch around the scrape. His eyes flutter, going a little wide, but then he settles again and almost leans into your hand.

Still, it’s probably inappropriate, so when he’s looking at you with amusement you take your hand back and fight the urge to run back home. “I’m sorry,” you say. “That definitely burst a personal bubble.” Yours, his, common decency’s…

“It’s all right,” he says. “It’s the nicest touch I’ve had in a long time.”

That strikes a chord in you. Something that reverberates and aches, because the joke was poorly disguised, and now he looks a little uncomfortable. You could pretend to ignore it.

Or…

You reach out again, slow and light, making sure not to aggravate or hurt anything as your fingers ghost over his skin. When the base of your palm comes close enough to brush the edge of his cheek, he does lean in. And this time you leave your hand there.

Until you hear someone suddenly shout from a distance away and both of you jerk back. He lifts his head to listen, but when laughter follows, and then fades, you both sigh in unison.

You clear your throat. “Would you…like to take a walk with me?”

He smiles slowly. “I can do that.”

You hold out your hand, and without hesitation, he takes it, wrapping long, strong fingers that seem to surround your skin. It’s probably the nicest touch you’ve had in a long time, too.

~

It’s good you live in the same building, because you have a string of bad days. When he first comes over to check on you, he stands shyly at the door until you, with only a sliver of hesitation, invite him in. Your apartment is nothing special, nothing that really should make you want to stay in it all the time, but it is home and safe and Steve seems happy enough to come by frequently, sometimes to check on you, sometimes to stay so you can enjoy each other’s company. You watch movies, and sit and talk, and order dinner in, and nights end with polite kisses, and then with arms wrapped around each other on the couch, and then with limbs tangled so thoroughly in bed that morning becomes an exercise in finding where one ends and the other begins.

But you’re not sure how long you can expect him to be happy with this. Steve is truly restless; eager to be out and about. He’s fine to do it on his own, but the day comes when he asks, again, if you would like to join him, and even though the gut feeling is ‘no,’ you nod your head ‘yes,’ and get ready to join him outside. It’s just a walk, and he’s excited enough that it pulls you outside your door, outside the building, outside…outside…

You…can’t do this.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks and laces his fingers with yours.

It’s ridiculous. It’s your own fucking neighborhood, and Steve is right there, patient and sweet as he always is; it’s just a walk, it’s just…it’s just…

“I can’t.” Walk, lift your head, feel anything but shame– that little phrase covers a lot, right now. “I’m sorry. I…”

“Okay.” Steve squeezes your hand. “Do you want me to come back with you?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry. Go out. I know you wanted to.”

He frowns, but he lets you go. It sucks, but having him stay in would feel so much worse. You attempt some half-hearted cleaning and give up to go sit on the couch in comfy clothes and just be miserable. Why not.

There’s a knock at the door. You cringe and get up, wondering what you're going to say for yourself (what can you say for yourself?) but when you answer, Steve is there and smiling like he’s…pleased with himself.

“Hey,” he says, like nothing happened at all.

“Hey,” you say. “Good run?”

“It was,” he said. “I picked up coffee and breakfast, but I left it at my apartment. Can you come down and stand in the threshold for five seconds while I grab it? We can come back to your apartment and eat.”

You stare at him.

Then you laugh. It’s ridiculous but…hey, this whole fucking thing is ridiculous, most of the time. “Very subtle,” you say, and he grins. Then his smile lessens, but doesn’t fade, and he reaches out. You take his hand in yours.

“If you truly can’t do it, I’ll bring it back, no strings,” he says sincerely. “But…five seconds?”

You think about it for a moment, then poke your head in the hall. Everything is so quiet. “Five seconds,” you say, and allow him to pull you down the hall, leaving your door cracked just a smidge. His apartment is dark and, honestly, a bit of a mess, but you stand obediently in the threshold while he brings over food and drink, and by the time those five seconds pass he’s already herding you back into the hall and locking the door behind himself.

“Five seconds was probably too long for how dirty my place is,” he says when you’re back in your apartment and squished side-by-side at the tiny table you have tucked against the wall. “But hey– you went somewhere new today.”

You can’t help but smile at that. “You’re too good to me, sometimes.”

He reaches over and squeezes your thigh. “I like you,” he says.

You put the breakfast sandwich down, and slide into him. He meets you more than halfway.

~

The next day you show up at his place with some cleaning supplies. He’s mortified, but he lets you stay and help.

~

A week later you’re in the waiting room of a doctor’s appointment when the world feels like it starts closing in on you. You want to leave but you can’t, you won’t, it took forever to get this slot and you’ve already canceled three times. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, but that doesn’t help. Neither does breathing slowly. The clock ticks, the receptionists chatter quietly and answer phones, and the few other people here look very bored.

You pull out your wallet– maybe you’ll reorganize your cards or do something else that can take some focus off this rising panic– and see a corner of paper. You pull it out and unfold it.

‘You can do this!’

You smile slightly. There’s still a pressure, an urge to run even though you know you’d be frozen in place if you even tried, but you look at the paper and think about Steve’s strong hands holding a calligraphy pen with gentle grace; how those fingers feel as they ghost along behind your back and curl around your other shoulder. A body memory of him leaning into you as you rest against him.

Your name is called and you get up, a little steadier, and that much closer to home.

~

It has been a long day, much of it spent doing things, and you’re ready to settle in with a book and your phone and try not to obsessively check for new messages. Steve has been gone for a few days (not doing anything terribly dangerous, thankfully) and you miss having him physically present. It’s probably a little pathetic but…well, who cares; you like having him around, and isn’t the point of being with another person being with another person?

So you’re fine with being a little needy. Maybe when you hear him get home you’ll go visit. He’s still overly willing to come to your apartment all the time, and while it’s a nice gesture, his place is becoming safe all on its own.

A jingle of keys outside is all the alert you get before someone knocks on the door. You get up to go see, and smile at the sight of the figure standing expectantly outside. A few quick flips later, and you open up to Steve leaning against the frame.

“So I had a plan,” he says casually.

“You did, hm?” You mirror his slouch against the wall. “What kind of plan?”

“A good plan,” he says. “I was going to go to the ice cream place a few blocks over and get a couple of scoops and bring them back real fast before they melted. As a nice surprise.”

“That does sound like a nice surprise,” you say, lips starting to curl as you find yourself unable to hold the casual act. “What happened?”

He blushes. “I forgot,” he mumbles, and you can’t help but laugh. He shrugs lightly but the pink flush is already fading and he lifts his head to show you his smile. “I thought I could still go get them, but then I was walking by and I thought…I didn’t want to go before seeing you.”

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to go without seeing me too.” And at that you stop pretending and reach out, meeting him with a hug and a kiss. It feels good to have him back and he’s just as hesitant to let you go when you part to breathe.

“I definitely see the appeal in staying in right now,” he murmurs, still so close to your face and his arms light but still very present around you. “I’ll be right back?”

That’s an option. Or…

“Can I come with you?” you ask without even thinking, but when you do, it seems…fine.

“Really?” Steve says, blinking, but his smile spreads. “I’d like that. If you’re up to it.”

“Yeah,” you say, and after you grab a few necessary things, you slip your hand into his. “Let’s do this.”

~

[chaikachi]

me when i headcanon that ruby is the first person to make oscar pine laugh out loud (because before then he just makes reserved, soft chuckles), and it's done entirely by accident because ruby made the lamest joke in existence and he couldn't help but laugh at how bad it was.

and it makes ruby laugh too! and they both laugh!

this is a personal attack... this is so cute... it's everything i want. I need them to giggle. Take it one step further and have Oscar's laugh be Ruby's "oh." moment. Cause she wants to protect and cherish that smile.

i need Oscar "Little Prince" Pine to laugh with his entire chest for once. You're right in that he almost never laughs, the most we get out of him, he's either laughing awkwardly, or he's just smiling cause he's endeared by those around him.

Aside from the first one, the most we've probably seen is this EXTREMELY SMALL GIGGLE IN THE BACKGROUND at Ruby and Yang's antics in V6.

Lemme zoom in a bit

If Ruby has become a new version of herself that isn't carrying the weight of everything alone anymore, then I choose to believe that means she's going to revert to some Beacon-era sillies. It is only a matter of time before she makes him laugh harder than we've ever seen.

I know it's coming. IT HAS TO BE.

To quote the book itself:

"In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night . . . You--only you--will have stars that can laugh!"

CAN'T HAVE A LITTLE PRINCE THAT DOESN'T LAUGH!!!

[okaystoptellingmetomakeanaccount]

Okay. K - Diari Del Klondike has got to be one of the goofiest, dumbest, most illogical series yet with only 2 episodes. Barbieri is all like: yeah I'm going to make these stories to be consistent with Rosa and fill up the parts that he didn't write. So you expect that he's going to think about continuity. Then this episode he introduced Glomgold in the Klondike. You serious? That's not only going against Rosa, that's going against BARKS! BARKS?! You don't contradict Barks, that's sin in the Duck comics world. Scrooge doesn't know who Glomgold is until when they meet in the first ever Barks story. Rosa went around this by making sure that Scrooge never learns Glomgold his name in LaToS Chapter 6 The terror of the transvaal. Gervasio went around this by just avoiding these characters to directly interact in the past. They don't meet aside from that one Rosa appearance, so he makes sure that they don't meet. Glomgold can take over Duckburg and fake his curriculum vitae all he wants, but he doesn't interact with Scrooge. Meanwhile Barbieri is all like:

Does he just not know or does he not care? 'I will be building upon Rosa' is a pretty big claim. But that's obviously not the case here so, like, huh, what, why,, i am confusw.

Then look at the random new 'lore' he creates that only rivals the bullshit Kari Korhonen pulled in the McDuck Diaries(funnily enough also a diary. It seems Scrooge has a lot of those together with the secret one that Donald finds). Korhonen had literally every single character be ancestor or family member of present day character. It was weird, but I don't mind it too much compared to what Barbieri did.

Cause for some reason we need Blackheart Beagle to also show up in the Klondike with a new name?????? Huh?? Where did that come from? Why? That's the goofiest thing ever.

Then we need to give Scrooge this treasure that he actually holds very dear even though we have never seen it before.

Then we need to give Scrooge a dog sidekick that he just has had through his Klondike period.

Then we establish that he was actually best friends with Goldie all the time even though she drugged him, he kidnapped her, she stole from him, they beat the shit out of each other, and Rosa shows that their relationship is very rocky and terrible which is what made their love story so good. But no now they're bffs. Sure.

And I don't get the whole diary thing either? What point does it serve? It only makes everything more annoying to read because it gets broken up by HDL talking. Is it just to fill up pages? Idk

Then Scrooge's glasses why does he need those why why why why why

You get the chance to write about the Klondike, arguably one of the most exciting things in the donald duck universe and you decide to write the lamest stories ever. It's not like Barbieri can't write cool shit.

Some of his Wizards of Mickey chapters are the only wizards of mickey stories ever that are in the inducks top 10000. If you somehow manage to write good wizards of mickey stories you're a goddamn wizard (pun not intended).

So why is K so incredibly dull? I don't get it. I only have questions it's so weirddd

Why does it have references to life and times even though it directly contradicts it? You don't have to adhere to the Rosa Canon but then why do you say that you do? I don't get it.

Why is Flintheart Glomgold just chilling with Soapy Slick? This feels like a fever dream. You were somehow allowed to do this, this is crazy, so why is the result so boring? How? How can Soapy slick and Flintheart Glomgold be boring? *insert Tumblr blabbering*

There's so much goofy stuff. Scrooge as hulpsinterklaas is canon.

Only the Dutch will understand that this is a big deal.

Why would panini want a new series taking place in the past? Why did they ask Barbieri to write this? Or was it his own initiative? Even then, why would Bertani give the green light? The Klondike is a holy part of the duckverse. Or can people just do this if they want to? I can't imagine that. Rosa and Korhonen couldn't just write about Scrooge's past. They needed to have a reason (the reason usually being demand from the publisher). But if panini wanted it, then why don't they promote it? They have only placed these stories in issues where the cover could be something else.

A big new part of Scrooge's past is revealed!! That will sell well! How do we let the people know? BY MAKING THIS

THE COVER OF COURSE! (tbf they probably wanted a last chance to use it before it fell in the public domain. A last time they show everyone lmao look we can use this and you can't)

It's just such a strange series. And all the random OC's that pop up as well, but those are the least weird thing.

Anyway what I said was mostly ranting because that's funny. If you want to see people actually discussing this weird thing then you should read the papersera thread (use Google translate if you don't speak Italian it works fine)

[hansomeskz]

Ceilings

Pairing: Minsung

Read on: Ao3 | Quotev | Wattpad

Twitter 

Jisung spots the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. The rest is history

Jisung has had the worst day.

He finds himself trudging into the coffee shop a few doors down from the hospital after the longest shift he’s ever worked. The sun has just crept over the horizon, but he’s too exhausted to take in its beauty.

His scrubs are stained and he knows he looks like a mess, but all he wants is one cup of coffee to help him survive the drive home.

As he’s waiting in line he takes in his surroundings, trying to find something to keep himself entertained. That’s when he sees him.

Seated by the window sits the most beautiful man Jisung has ever seen, working on his laptop. His raven-black hair falls into his eyes, Jisung really doesn’t even know how he can see the screen past it. His confusion is cleared up when the modelesque man huffs and puffs, angrily brushing the hair out of his eyes.

Jisung just has to say hi.

He leaves his spot in line to approach the table, tapping gently on the surface to get his attention. “I’m so sorry, is this seat taken?” He gestures to the empty seat across from the man. He sizes Jisung up briefly before he offers the blond a soft smile. “No, you can sit.”

“Thanks,” he says as he slides into the chair, returning the smile. “So what can I help you with…?”

“Jisung. My name is Jisung. But my friends call me Han if you’d prefer.” Jisung knows he’s already rambling, nerves taking over in front of somebody he finds so beautiful. “Okay, Jisung. What can I help you with?” The dark-haired man cocks his head to the side slightly, leaning back in his chair.

“This might sound so weird but I just… I saw you when I walked in and knew it would be a mistake if I didn’t at least shoot my shot. Do you think maybe we could talk a bit? Get to know each other?”

As the words leave his mouth, Jisung’s heart sinks. That was maybe the lamest thing he’s ever said. He’s already opening his mouth to apologize and leave when the man across from him responds, his cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Sure. I’d like that.”

“Really?” Jisung is shocked, eyes blown wide. The man laughs, nodding. “Really. I���m Minho.”

“Jisung.”

“Yeah, I know.” Minho’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches Jisung squirm, the blond’s face burning hot with embarrassment. “Oh. Right.”

“Are you a nurse?”

“I am.”

“Tell me about that.” Minho leans forward on his elbow, resting his chin on his hand. After that, the conversation is easy. They talk about music, books, and anything else they can think of.

Jisung discovers that Minho runs a bookstore nearby, and in his free time, he writes poems. They talk about their favourite foods, and the blond is enchanted to hear that not only is Minho a good cook, but he loves to do it too. He wonders if that would pair well with Jisung’s love of baking, but doesn’t say anything for fear of getting ahead of himself.

Their chatter lasts late into the afternoon. The staff has to politely ask them to leave so they can finish closing, and it’s only when Jisung is hitting send on his first text to Minho that he realizes he didn’t even get a coffee.

*

The next few days they text non-stop and Jisung is embarrassed to admit he feels giddy. Each time his phone lights up his heart starts to race. He hopes every time that it’s a text from Minho, and most times he’s completely correct.

Minho

How’s work been?

You’re just getting home, right?

Jisung

just got in! :)

work was ok!!!!!! the shifts are always hectic :’(

how was your day??

are you still at the book store :o

Minho

Yeah, I’m here most days.

But I make the schedule so that’s my fault, haha.

I gave myself this weekend off, though!

So that’ll be nice.

Jisung

all weekend??????

that’s so exciting!!!!!

do you maybe have any plans saturday night??

if you’re not too tired maybe you and i could grab dinner

we don’t have to I just think maybe it would be fun :D

Minho

I’d love to.

I have some errands to run in the morning but I’ll be free by 5?

Jisung

ok!! that sounds good to me :)

where do you want to go?

Minho

You’re so busy with work, let me handle all the planning.

Speaking of, you must be exhausted.

I’ll let you go.

Talk later?

Jisung

i can’t wait :)

Minho

Sleep tight, Jisung. x

*

Jisung is unreasonably excited on Saturday. Minho had texted him a screenshot of their reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in town just the night before. Jisung didn’t sleep after that.

He’s smoothing out his shirt for the hundredth time standing in front of the hallway mirror. His slacks feel too stiff and the button-down is a little too loose, he thinks, but he hopes Minho doesn’t notice.

He stands outside waiting for Minho long before the older boy said he’d be by to pick him up. To pass the time, he watches the dark clouds swirl overhead. It looks like it might rain, but that won’t stop Jisung at all.

As the minutes tick by Jisung’s mind starts to mimic the storm brewing overhead, his thoughts swirling and crowding his mind. What if Minho doesn’t like him? What if this date is disappointing, and it all falls apart?  Jisung doesn’t know if he could bear losing the most exciting part of his days right now.

The clouds in Jisung’s brain dissipate as Minho’s car pulls up in front of him. He slips into the passenger seat, smiling shyly at him. The smile that Minho returns is bright and dazzling.

“You look really nice,” the older boy says, squeezing Jisung’s knee gently before he gets them back on the road. “Oh, thanks… you do too.”

“Thanks, Ji. You know, I haven’t done this in a while.” Minho spares him a glance, the tips of his ears turning red. “So just be patient, okay?”

“It’s been a while for me, too. Nursing can really take up a lot of my time…”

“I bet. Well, I’m glad I got to sneak into your schedule.” The way that Minho sounds so soft and so genuine makes Jisung’s heart race. He smiles nervously and nods. “Yeah, me too.”

When they get to the restaurant, the hostess can’t find their reservation. Jisung can see the stress written all over the older boy’s face, so he intertwines their fingers and leans into his side.

“I don’t mind waiting for a table,” he says quietly. Minho sighs and looks at him. “Are you sure? We can go somewhere else if you don’t want to wait.”

“No, it’s alright. We can wait.” Jisung squeezes his hand gently and smiles up at him. Minho returns it and nods, adding them to the waitlist.

The wait for a table isn’t that long, but neither of them knows what to say. They look in opposite directions, occasionally sparing each other nervous glances when the other mentions something they like about the decor.

Jisung is starting to get anxious again when the hostess takes them to their table. Minho pulls out the blond’s chair for him, causing his face to heat up. “Oh- Uh, thank you.” He sits, clasping his hands in his lap as he stares directly down at this menu.

Minho sits across from him, the two going over the menu in total silence. Jisung thinks he can hear the blood rushing in his ears.

It’s not until the waiter has taken their orders that the silence becomes unbearable and Jisung blurts out the first thing he can think of. “It looks like it’s going to rain, doesn’t it?”

Minho’s eyes go wide briefly before he looks outside. “Yeah. I guess so.”

The silence returns soon after that.

Jisung can’t take it. His clothes are uncomfortable, the restaurant is much stuffier than he expected, and he feels kind of like his head is going to explode. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom,” he says, pushing his chair out and stalking off before Minho can say anything.

He texts his best friend Felix the second he makes it out of Minho’s sight.

Jisung

it’s a disaster!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

neither of us know what to say and i hate this restaurant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Felix

do u need me to call and say i died????

i can do it

Jisung

no im gonna tough it out like a big boy i just need you to know that im suffering :(

Felix

text me the safe word if u need an escape plan i can be crashing through the restaurant window in 15

Jisung

i dont know what i would do without u wow what a hero

ok im going back wish me luck

Felix

god gives his toughest battles to his sexiest soldiers hannie

Jisung takes a deep breath before making his way back out to Minho. When he gets to the table, he sees two to-go boxes sitting in front of the dark-haired boy.

His heart sinks. Of course Minho took the time to find them an out, but Jisung’s disappointed they didn’t get the chance to fix their date. Minho, though, smiles up at the younger boy as he approaches.

“I had an idea if you’ll indulge me.” He stands, picking up the containers. Jisung tilts his head slightly. “What’s the idea?”

“Why don’t you just come with me and find out?” The playful sparkle in Minho’s eyes makes Jisung’s heart skip a beat. “Yeah, okay. I’m in.”

“Great.” He takes Jisung’s hand in his own, pulling him back out to the car.

It’s not long before the two of them find themselves next to the Han River. They watch as it moves with purpose. Like something important is happening today.

Minho has lain out his suit jacket for them to sit on. They sit with their thighs pressed against each other to try and make sure neither ends up sitting in mud.

“I’m sorry the restaurant was a bust. My friends said it was great there, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing,” Minho says quietly, looking embarrassed. Jisung shrugs lightly, smiling reassuringly at the older boy. “This is a lot more my pace.”

“Mine too.” He cracks open their to-go containers, offering the younger boy a fork. Jisung is quick to dig in, feeding Minho occasional bites.

“I listened to that playlist you sent me,” Jisung says suddenly. He’s finding it much easier to think now that they’re out of the way of prying eyes and ears. “Yeah? How did you like it?”

“I loved it. You have great taste, Min. I especially love that acoustic love song you have on there, it feels like a song from a movie.”

“I like that one, too,” Minho says softly, smiling fondly at the blond.

The conversation flows so easily after that. Jisung gives him some more in-depth reviews of the songs he liked the most, Minho nodding happily as he listens, propped up on an arm that has him leaning incredibly close to the younger boy’s side.

When they get onto the topic of Minho’s cats, the raven-haired boy lights up completely. He scrolls through different photos of them, telling Jisung all sorts of stories. “They’re my lifeline. I even take them to the bookstore with me most days. They just laze around while people browse.”

“That’s so cute,” Jisung coos, resting his head on the older boy’s shoulder so he can watch the river flow. He sits like that for a while, Minho’s arm finding its way around his waist. They’re quiet, but they’re content this time.

It’s only when the skies open up, soaking them both, that the two pull apart. Jisung gasps when the rain first starts to come down, standing up quickly out of pure shock. Minho laughs at him, staring up at him with the fondest look he’s ever seen. The rain has strands of hair sticking to Minho’s face, but Jisung thinks he’s never looked better.

“What, afraid of a little rain?” Minho asks, cocking his head to the side. “It’s fucking cold,” the blond whines, a shiver shooting down his spine. Minho shakes his head playfully. He fishes around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out his AirPods and offering one to Jisung.

He takes it hesitantly, putting it in. After a few seconds, that pretty acoustic song they’d been talking about starts to play.

Minho pushes himself up off the ground, holding his hand out in Jisung’s direction. “May I have this dance?”

Jisung nearly swoons, blushing as he lets Minho pull him in close. He never thought he’d be the type to fall for something so cliche, but the way the raven-haired boy smiles at him is so warm and inviting.

He presses closer, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder as the older boy tightens his grip on Jisung’s waist. Despite the way the rain makes their skin slick, their hands slot together with no hope of separating any time soon.

Minho sings quietly into his ear while they sway, the rain never letting up for even a moment. It feels like a movie, and Jisung soaks up every second of it.

When the song changes, neither of them takes the chance to pull away. A faster tempo song coaxes them into dancing a little sillier, Minho insisting on spinning Jisung as many times as he can.

Once they’re both completely exhausted, several songs and out-of-tune sing-alongs later, they sink back onto Minho’s jacket. Jisung is laughing, his cheeks bright red. He doesn’t miss the lovesick smile on Minho’s face.

They only call it quits once the sun has set, the orange finally fading into the darkest of blues. Tonight, despite all the clouds, Jisung thinks the colours around them seem more saturated than usual.

As they walk up to Jisung’s house, the older boy turns to him suddenly. “I’m really sorry about the rocky start to the date,” he says softly. Jisung shakes his head, but Minho keeps going before he can respond.

“I just… I was already so nervous. You’re so kind and so handsome… I really wanted this date to go well. And then the reservation was gone, and…”

“I had a lot of fun, Minho. You have nothing to apologize for.” Jisung takes his hand, smiling. “I was really nervous too, but this was incredible.”

Minho looks relieved, smiling back at the younger boy. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t blow it.”

“You didn’t. I can’t wait to see you again.”

They both linger for a few moments, neither wanting to leave without a proper goodbye. When Jisung’s eyes flicker down to Minho’s mouth, the older leans in.

It feels like fireworks are going off around them as their lips touch, slotting together like the two men were made for each other. Jisung wraps his arms around Minho’s neck, desperately pulling him closer.

When they both finally pull away, gasping for air, Minho laughs. “What, was I bad?” Jisung asks, looking horrified.

“No! No, I just…” He laughs again, admiring Jisung while he has the chance. “I just never kiss on the first date.”

Jisung’s face heats up, burning an impossible shade of red. “Oh.”

“I don’t think I could’ve waited a second longer, though. Okay- I seriously have to go, I know we both work early.” Minho steals one last kiss before backing towards his car, smiling brightly. “Goodnight Jisung.”

“Night, Minho.”

Jisung feels a little silly when he gets inside, leaning back against his front door like a giddy schoolgirl. He’s in so deep already.

*

The night is quiet aside from their laboured breathing. Minho is on his back next to Jisung, panting. Jisung wipes away beads of sweat from his own forehead before turning onto his side to get a good look at the raven-haired boy, propping himself up on his elbow.

Minho has his eyes closed, head tilted back against the pillows as he swallows thickly. He looks so beautiful like this. “You alright?” Jisung asks quietly, tracing a finger down the older boy’s bare chest. “You fucking killed me,” Minho laughs, opening his eyes to get a good look at the man next to him.

Jisung rolls his eyes playfully, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. “Sounds a little dramatic if you ask me,” he says, raising his eyebrows. Minho shakes his head before he shifts so he’s matching the blond’s pose. “I only say things I mean.”

“I don’t believe that. Just a few minutes ago you called me a stupid slut, do you still think that?” Jisung cocks his head to the side, eyes wide. Minho barks out a laugh and steals a kiss. “Yeah, I do. But Ji, you’re my stupid slut. That’s why I…”

Minho doesn’t finish his sentence but Jisung knows exactly what he’s thinking. He can feel it in the crinkles of the older boy’s eyes when he smiles. He can taste it in the meals Minho drops off at his work.

Jisung has been thinking it for a while now, but he’s been too scared to say anything lest it be too early. The feeling in his chest bubbles and bursts every time their lips connect at the end of a long day, or when Minho sneaks pictures of him playing with the cats.

He loves Minho, he does. That’s why it’s so easy for him to just smile warmly and peck the older boy’s lips. “I love you too, Min.”

Minho blushes, blinking quickly in disbelief. “You do?”

“I do.”

“I’ve never been happier to have somebody who can read my mind, Ji.” Minho lunges at him, pinning him back down against the bed. Jisung squeals with laughter, half-heartedly flailing his limbs to try to escape Minho’s grasp.

“Say it again,” the raven-haired boy demands. Jisung shakes his head, still laughing. “You haven’t even really said it yet! It’s your turn, asshole.”

“I love you Jisung,” Minho yells into the silence of the night, drawing more laughter from the younger boy. “I love you more than I could ever explain, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” He’s pressing kisses all over Jisung’s face now, the most beautiful smile taking over his face.

Jisung’s skin is on fire, burning with embarrassment. “You’re going to wake up my neighbours,” he hisses, slipping a hand out of Minho’s grasp to clasp over the older boy’s mouth.

“I don’t care,” he says into his skin, pressing kisses to his palm while he can. “I want the world to know how much I fucking love you, Ji.”

He’s embarrassed, sure, but the overwhelming happiness and relief he feels are enough to convince Jisung to let Minho go, shaking his head. “I love you too, Min.”  

He tips his head back as Minho attaches his lips to Jisung’s neck, whispering sweet nothings as he makes his way further down the blond boy’s body.

*

They’ve been in the car for hours now, on their way to Minho’s parents’ cottage. “You’ve just never been especially good at navigation is all I’m saying, Min,” Jisung teases from the passenger seat, holding a Twizzler in the older boy’s direction.

“Well, I don’t see you being especially helpful,” Minho snaps, snatching the snack out of Jisung’s hand. The blond’s eyes go wide, his heart rate picking up. “Hey… I was just kidding, Minho. You know that, right?”

“You’ve been on my case for the past hour, Jisung. I can’t do anything about how long it takes to get there, especially not in this fucking traffic.”

The younger boy frowns, putting a hand on Minho’s knee.

“I’m sorry, baby. This must be stressful for you. We woke up so early to leave, too.” Jisung squeezes gently before rubbing gentle circles into the older boy’s thigh with his thumb. “Do you want me to drive for a bit? You must be exhausted.”

Minho grumbles something but pulls them off to the side of the road, pressing his forehead against the wheel.

“I’m really sorry, Min. I didn’t realize the teasing was really upsetting you. You should’ve told me.” Jisung ducks his head a bit, rubbing the back of his neck.

The older boy sighs, shaking his head as he sits up. “Sorry, Ji.” He reaches over and cups Jisung’s cheek gently, his expression softening significantly when he sees the guilty look on his boyfriend’s face. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m just so tired.”

“It’s okay, love. Let me drive for a bit, okay?” Jisung leans into his touch a bit, smiling softly when Minho nods.

Once they’ve swapped seats and gotten comfortable, Jisung gets them back on the road. He lets Minho take over the music, a hand resting on the older boy’s thigh.

“M’sorry I yelled at you,” Minho says quietly. Jisung squeezes his leg gently, shaking his head. “It’s okay, baby. I know how you get when you’re tired. I’m sorry I was being annoying.”

Minho takes his hand gently, squeezing tightly. “You’re not annoying. You know I love it when you tease me.”

“I can take it too far sometimes. I should’ve realized how tired you were.”

“Hey- stop apologizing for me yelling at you,” Minho says, kissing his cheek before settling into the seat. Jisung smiles lightly, glancing at his boyfriend.

He catches Minho right as he leans his head against the window, eyes slipping shut. As he turns his attention back to the road, he thinks about how uncomfortable that position is going to be in an hour. “My hoodie’s in the backseat, you can use it as a pillow if you want.”

“Mm… Good idea.” Minho is quick to lean into the back and grab it, just holding it tight against his chest instead. Jisung laughs lightly, shaking his head.

The older boy puts Jisung’s hand back on his thigh and he keeps their fingers interlaced as he drifts off, Jisung singing quietly to the songs on the radio.  

Jisung feels so lucky to be with Minho, even when they aren’t always on the same page. He hopes he gets to do this forever.

*

Minho and Jisung are sat in the pews, watching as Seungmin and Chan stare at each other with the most lovesick expression. Jisung is crying, naturally, and Minho keeps leaning over to dab the younger boy’s tears away.

“Weddings always make me cry,” Jisung sniffs, staring up at Minho. “I know, Ji. You cried for like, six hours after Felix and Changbin got married. Felix didn’t even cry that long.”

“They just looked so happy,” the blond wails, burying his face in his hands. Minho laughs and pulls him close, rubbing gentle circles into the blond’s back. “Yeah, they really did.”

“I just know they’re feeling the same thing that I feel when I look at you, and the idea that my friends know what it’s like to be so unbelievably, undeniably in love makes me so fucking happy.” Jisung looks up at the love of his life with round, glossy eyes.

The raven-haired boy looks completely lovesick, which just makes Jisung cry harder. “I’m just so happy for them.”

“I know, Ji. You wanna get up and get something to drink?” Minho stands when the younger boy nods, pulling him to join the others as cocktail hour starts.

Jisung doesn’t stop crying until he’s had a few glasses of wine, now sat inside the reception. Minho keeps raking his fingers through the blond’s hair which makes him shiver almost every time.

Jisung watches Chan and Seungmin do the rounds, thanking everybody for coming out. He notices that in the few moments of peace that they have, they can’t keep their hands off of each other, sweet kisses and whispered words exchanged in dark corners where they hope the partygoers can’t see them.

When Jisung looks back at Minho, the older man only has his eyes on him. Jisung blushes, tilting his head a little. “What are you looking at?”

“You.”

“Yeah, baby, I collected that much.”

“I love you. I just want to look at you. That’s all.” Minho smiles warmly as Jisung’s face flushes. The younger boy rolls his eyes, scoffing. “I have a wine stain on my shirt, don’t I?”

“There is a pretty big red wine stain on your shirt, honey.” Minho laughs, placing a hand over the stain as Jisung scowls playfully at him. “You could’ve just told me that, dickweed.”

“I do just like looking at you, too.” The raven-haired boy caresses his cheek gently, only looking away from him when Chan and Seungmin approach their table. “Oh my god, you guys need to get a room,” Seungmin says with what Jisung can only assume to be genuine disgust. Minho laughs as Jisung scoffs playfully. “As if you and Chan weren’t just sucking faces five minutes ago.”

“It’s our wedding day,” Chan chirps, clapping a hand against Han’s back. “We’re allowed to be disgusting.”

“When Jisung and I get married, it’s over for you bitches,” Minho jokes, causing Jisung to choke on his wine.

When they get married? They’d never talked about marriage before. It’s not a surprising concept considering how long they’ve been together, but it still catches the younger boy off guard. Minho just pats his back gently as Seungmin and Chan laugh at them, heading off to the next table.

Jisung thinks about asking, about figuring out if that’s something Minho really wants, but he knows now might not be the best time to have an intense emotional conversation with him, so he just polishes off his glass of wine.

“If you keep up that pace, you’ll be hammered before the first dance.”

“That’s kind of the goal, baby.” Jisung grins up at him and Minho takes that as a challenge.

They spend the night chugging wine and causing problems, their two favourite pastimes.

Late into the reception, when half the crowd has gone home, they find themselves swaying slowly to a fast-paced song. They’re far too lost in each other to notice that the slow song they were dancing to fifteen minutes ago has changed several times over.

Jisung presses their foreheads together, a hand on either side of Minho’s face. His eyes are barely open but he can still see Minho clear as day. “I love you, Min.”

“I can’t think of another person I’d want to spend my whole life with,” The older boy breathes, spinning Jisung delicately before pulling him back in close.

Jisung presses their lips together to stop any questions from tumbling out. He just wants to enjoy this moment, he can worry about their future later.

*

Jisung has had the most hellish shift of his life and he tells Minho as much on their daily phone call on his way home.

“I’m just so sick of this shit, Min. I can’t keep doing this,” he says, voice breaking. The older boy hums sympathetically on the other end. “I know, baby. Being a nurse is hard, you deal with so much real shit. I’m proud of you for doing something so important, even if it can be stressful.”

The genuine compassion in Minho’s voice causes tears to prick at Jisung’s eyes as he pulls into their driveway. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” he says before hanging up before Minho can respond.

He spends the next few minutes crying in his car, all the stress of the past few days at work building into one massive breakdown. Minho comes out when he sees Jisung through the window, knocking gently on the car door.

Jisung practically throws himself at the older boy as he gets out, burying his face in his neck as he hiccups softly. “Oh, angel…” Minho coos, rubbing his back.

The blond lets himself be ushered inside, Minho helping him change before getting him curled up in bed. Jisung laughs a little through the tears as the raven-haired boy piles their cats on top of him. “Wait here, I’ve got dinner ready for you.”

Jisung snuggles with the cats and tries to pull himself together while he waits, feeling very lucky to have found his soulmate. The one who knows just how to handle his worst moments.

Minho carries a tray of food and wine as he steps back in, situating the tray in the younger boy’s lap and placing the glass of wine on the bedside table. “There, baby. Eat up.”

Jisung picks at the food, his appetite non-existent. He’s just grateful to have Minho sitting with him, telling him silly little stories from the bookstore today.

“You know, Min… There’s nothing I look forward to more after a day like today than coming home to you. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, Jisung. You know… I was thinking…” the older boy trails off, fidgeting with his fingers nervously. “What’s up, honey?”

“At Chan’s wedding a few months ago…  you said something about how you like weddings because the couple always looks like they feel the way you and I feel, right?”

“Yeah. It’s my favourite part. Knowing my friends have found their person, too.”

“Well, since you think we’re the standard, I was thinking maybe it’s our turn.”

“Our turn?” Jisung’s heart is pounding, face flushing impossibly red. “What are you asking, Minho?”

“I was just wondering if maybe… Jisung, will you marry me?” Minho looks so afraid when he asks; like he’s convinced the younger boy would ever even consider saying no. Jisung lunges at him, knocking the dinner tray to the floor as he pins Minho down against the bed.

His face bursts into the biggest smile he��s ever had, and the older boy is quick to mirror it back to him. “Of course I will, Min. Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to ask me! You mentioned us getting married at that wedding and I was convinced you were going to pop the question right then and there!”

“I almost did! I thought it might be rude, so I held back.” Minho laughs, opening his mouth to say more. Jisung doesn’t let him, though, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. They almost get lost in each other, hands wandering as they grow more desperate.

Minho breaks the kiss, pushing Jisung back a little as he catches his breath. “I have a ring for you.”

The older boy props himself up on his elbows, stealing another peck from Jisung before he digs through the drawer on his bedside table. “You kept it in there?”

“Baby, you’ve never looked through a drawer before in your life, especially not my drawer. It was safe in here.”

Jisung feigns hurt, but he’s laughing. Tears are pricking at his eyes again, but this time they’re happy tears. Once the ring, a simple silver band, is secure on his hand, Minho pulls him back in.  

They spend the night tangled in the sheets, whispering sweet nothings between gasps and groans.

*

“Next, please,” the barista calls. Jisung shakes his head a little to clear his head, still reeling from the fantasy he’d created. He’s standing there in the very same coffee shop he started in, his scrubs stained to oblivion, looking like a mess.

The beautiful stranger is still seated by the window, now packing his things into his bag.

Jisung feels insane, having just imagined a future with a man whose name he doesn’t even know. He briefly considers just letting the man leave instead of feeding into his own delusions.

But then he thinks back to it all. He thinks back to the beauty and the ups and downs of the life he could have with this man he’s never met; with the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

If he doesn’t do something now, he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if this was it for him. He can’t build a life wondering if he let his soulmate get away to avoid being a little awkward in a coffee shop.

The barista calls for him again, but he steps out of line, marching his way over to the table as the raven-haired man rises out of his seat. “Hey,” Jisung says, pressing both of his palms against the tabletop.

The stranger stares at him, wide-eyed. “Do I know you?”

“No, but you’re about to. My name is Han Jisung,” he sticks his hand out, smiling brightly. The dark-haired man looks bewildered but clasps their hands together in a firm handshake. “Lee Minho.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Minho.”

"Finally?"

"I feel like I've seen you in my dreams before."

[nortism]

doctor who liveblog pt 26

s5 ep2 the beast below

- i miss the old opening credits i won’t lie

- i do not believe the uk will still be together by the 29th century

- since when did the doctor not get involved in the places he’s visiting? you are a liar!!

- i knew it

- scotland getting their own ship sounds about right

- uh oh they’re going to hell

- she’s the queen?!

- yayay star whale

- fucking winston churchill

- uh oh there’s a crack

s5 ep3 victory of the daleks

- quite excited for another wwii episode though it will be impossible to beat the masterpiece that is the empty child/ the doctor dances

- oh they are trying to team up with the daleks uh oh

- this is going to be interesting considered the ways in which the daleks have previously been used as nazi allegories

- not the dalek with the union jack

- they gotta stop cutting the dalek pov, it really takes away the seriousness from a scene

- that’s a big ass spanner

- this has gotta be the lamest fight scene i’ve ever seen

- wow who could have seen that coming

- i could go for a jammy dodger

- wow daleks in new exciting colours

- “master race” they’re really leaning into the nazi allegory

- uh oh dalek civil war

- cracks again

- that was alright but it mostly made me wanna rewatch the empty child

[northwest-cryptid]

Local amnesiac clockman in dystopian city gets hired/abducted by the 12 complete messes based on literature, the lamest badass in the setting and his funny amnesiac daughter. Gets told to give therapy to said messes by looking for branches in ruined scp facilities while occasionally incurring on the wrath of capitalism and the little prince for some reason.

Said total messes are:

Straight up the korean poet Yi Sang because his most known poem had a character named "I"

Autism filled woman who is technically the actual boss of everyone

Woman don quixote

Fucked up japanese artist except her art is violence

Autistic french man with gap moe

Sheltered chinese man with the most fucked up family ever

A brit with a bat named revenge

Fish bisexual obsessed with murdering a metaphorical whale

Mommy Russian with only food and no hindsight in her head

Closeted young man with a fuckload of trauma involving ableist cultists

Straight up fucking Odysseus but in woman

And our ptsd riddled cockroach: Greg

See on one hand I genuinely appreciate the attempt here.

On the other hand this is extremely fandomized and I can't really learn anything from it as a result, especially considering that this covered stuff I already sorta know from just having played through the first major part of the game before having issues with it but more specifically from the fact that it's on the website for the game.

I need to reiterate my first bit here, I genuinely appreciate the attempt and I do not seek to belittle or insult the sender or anyone in question for attempting to enlighten me on the game but hear me out if you will...

All the information provided can be obtained from the website for the game or the first 10 minutes of the game; however it is only partially factual.

I am interested in Limbus Company, the game; not "Limbus Company The Abridged Version As Seen by the Fandom." When people go on and on about character analysis and plot depth and why it's so cool and interesting and deep and fun I want to jump in and engage with them on the narrative and such, but I can't because I'm not: A. Financially well off to Gacha for shit. B. Good enough at the game to get very far. And as a website that talks a lot about accessibility in games I feel like if anyone is going to shoot me down with a "git gud" it'd be kinda dumb, like sir/ma'am/individual of non-specific gender identity; you are on the "games should let you experience the story even if you're bad" website, please sit down.

I was honestly kind of hopeful that I would get some serious answers; and while some people have given me more serious answers than others; a lot of what I get is either specifically the start of the game which ignores/overlooks/doesn't mention the folks Dante is having an encounter with at the start, the fact they can use their clock head powers to turn back time and revive the sinners; or even the fact that they have no idea why any of it can happen. Like no one has even mentioned the whole star thing? I think it was a star? Something like that, anyways that thing was pretty cool and no one talks about it.

What I do often hear is how cooky and ku-ray-zee the main cast of silly little guys is; which I feel massively takes away from who they actually are.

"And our ptsd riddled cockroach: Greg" Alright since I've actually played through the first bit of the game so I know just enough about Gregor's story, why do we summarize a man who literally was a child experiment; who was betrayed by the only parental figure he knew; who was made to kill and murder without understanding of it literally like drugged or some shit to think he was just cutting apples; and who's body literally mutates into a cockroach down to just "lol he's a silly little guy with ptsd" ptsd from what exactly? Oh you mean the fucking Smoke Wars? One of the if not the biggest event in the PM Universe?

Like okay I understand I said "hey maybe don't send me entire documentary style paragraphs of text because my ADHD brain will not let me read them" and that's true, but I also really don't vibe with this whole concept of "this person doesn't know the characters at all so I'm going to call one bisexual, I'm going to call one a mommy, I'm going to call one a ptsd riddled cockroach named greg lol" Like I don't know how much of this is fandom and how much of this is real anymore. I know that some characters in PM's universe ARE LGBT so the idea of one of the Sinners maybe being Bisexual isn't too far fetched, but is that completely fandom interpretation or is it real? I sure as hell don't know when characters like Gregor who have deeper meaningful stories that tie into the world as a whole are boiled down to a one line joke about, I guess his name being Greg?

Like again I have nothing against the person who sent this or anything, I'm sure you meant well and I'm glad you're excited enough about the game that you reached out to me; that's all great and such, but I can't help but need to point out that you're talking to someone who knows almost nothing, but not nothing; about this game

and you're choosing to represent it in such a way that might be factual or might be fandomized and I can't tell the difference when the things I know are fandomized are present or when it mostly consists of jokes.

"Local amnesiac clockman in dystopian city gets hired/abducted by the 12 complete messes based on literature, the lamest badass in the setting and his funny amnesiac daughter."

Kind of not really. Like I'm not even going to get into the fact that technically speaking Dante is a Clock Person not necessarily confirmed Clock Man. I AM however going to get into the fact that they come to Dante's rescue(?) during what is essentially an execution; Dante is going to die and these 12 sinners jump in to fight for them for seemingly some reason we don't get to know yet. Hired is a much better word than abducted in this sense. Don't even get me started on "the lamest badass" because like, that entirely ignores the fact you're talking about who I can only assume is Vergilius AKA The Red Gaze, which is sorta huge considering what we've seen of Color Fixers, and you know; the entirety of the Comic/Light Novel Leviathan released prior to the game. What would a color fixer be doing with the sinners? What is his connection with Dante? Even having read Leviathan these sorts of questions are interesting and they create interest as someone who wants to question and explore the setting and it's themes.

AND I'M SORRY BUT "HIS DAUGHTER"??? Has that been confirmed because I highly doubt that unless there's some dialogue somewhere in the game that shows he adopted her or something, I mean yea he clearly cares about the orphans, but like I don't recall him ever adopting her and if he did I can't tell if you're telling me a fact or a fandom here because of everything else you've stated.

Are you beginning to see the problem here?

I literally have to wave off everything you just told me as no more than "lol silly jokes man lol" and I don't mean to be some asshole about it either but this isn't really going to help anyone get into a game or a story or anything because I don't really KNOW anything about it.

Again I'm not mad, I'm not trying to be rude; I've got nothing against Alex or anything! I appreciate someone taking the time out of their day to send me this but it ultimately doesn't tell me anything I'm just as much in the dark as I was.

This is specifically why it's so hard for me to interact with a lot of larger communities, a lot of the information I want is factual, from the source material; but I'm perhaps not skilled enough at the games to obtain it myself, so I turn to the community for information since people tend to enjoy talking about the things they like, and instead of getting actual information I get in-jokes I don't yet have context for, and fandomization that isn't actually true to the source material.

I understand I may come off a little harsh here, so for that I do apologize if I've come across rude. That being said, please do try to refrain from sending people who know next to nothing about your interests, a ton of fandomized in-jokes they won't understand, it feeds into the misinformation loop. Can you imagine if I went around telling everyone that Charon was Vergil's daughter when in reality he treats her as "something of a daughter" according to the publicly editable and horrible "fandom wiki" which is the only place that I could find information about it.

This isn't the same thing as say a biological daughter, or even an adoptive one. Which could be an interesting plot dynamic. I mean do you guys remember what happened last time a Color Fixer had a kid? Or rather I should say, last time a Color Fixer WAS GOING to have a kid? That was kind of a big deal. It's not really a shocker to learn that the guy who really likes orphans would be nice to the child.

anyways sorry for the lengthy explanation of "this isn't really what I'm looking for" but I've literally spoke on this whole "fandomization of characters bothers me a lot" topic before several times for literally this exact reason.