#but the tv has these vibrant colors

[sunlaire]

A color television test at the Mount Kaukau transmitter site, New Zealand in 1970. A test pattern with color bars is used to calibrate the signal.

#color television #electro #found this picture and i like it #the whole room is bland #but the tv has these vibrant colors #also whats going on with those machines in the background

[moonlinos]

It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉

Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field. 

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again. 

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head. 

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

#stray kids #bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan x you #stray kids smut #skz #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DP x DC AU

Danny's gonna adopt all the Halfas in Gotham whether he wants to or not, and it's gonna start with the little dead girl he found after crawling out of that portal in the league base.

Pt 2 here. My Au Art

...........................

There's a dead little girl sitting on the rug in front of Danny's coffee table curiously eating Cheetos.

Well, she's not all the way dead, only half, could even be a little less then that, Danny would know he's sort of the leading expert on being half dead.

Her skins blue, like comic book mystique blue, vibrant and impossible to miss. Shes got these big black eyes and a nasty split going straight through her upper lip to just under her right eye.

She's also missing her nose, it's just gone, no cartilage left over just the gaping nasal cavity like skulls have.

The little girl looks dead, she is dead, or she's at least as dead as Danny is which is almost exclusively in name only.

Her name is Curaré, Danny only knows it because it's been branded into the skin of the little girls neck, just under the curve of her bald skull.

Curaré is terribly thin, the little toddler sized T-shirt she has on hangs loose around her torso where baby fat should fill it out.

She's horrible to look at, a tiny nightmare, her corpse like coloring doing nothing to mitigate the appearance.

Curaré was neither a healthy nor normal little girl, there was no way Danny could have left that league facility without her.

Oh and she almost exclusively spoke in Spanish which made finding her dinner hard.

Not that Cheetos are really dinner, little kids need to eat more then that Danny was pretty sure, like 89% sure. Although they did have a lot of calories...

Danny tilts his head absently as he looks at her, the little demon being illuminated red and green by the glow of the TV. She's enraptured by the Scooby doo rerun Gotham's only spanish language channel is playing tonight.

As if she can feel his eyes she turns to him and tilts her head the same way.

Danny blinks at her, Curaré blinks back.

" Uh- " Danny starts, trying to remember anything from his Spanish elective from sophomore year. God, his teacher had been right he had needed to study more. " The Cheetos, you like them? They're uh...bueno? Oh! Son Buenos?"

He points his finger down at the snack sized bag in her grasp, her fingers are tiny , they must be so fragile, looking at the desperate grasp they have on the bag makes Danny's chest hurt. How could anyone be so small? Had Danny ever been that small?

Curaré blinks again, long and slow, processing Danny's words. She looks down at her Cheetos and back up at Danny then she carefully holds the bag out to him.

" Oh no that's ok they're for you kiddo" Danny insists.

Curaré shakes the bag at him, like enticing a stray cat with treats but he only shakes his head again.

She gives up after that, shrugging and turning back to her cartoons.

Inside her chest Danny can feel her ghost core vibrate placidly as Scooby and Shaggy run across the TV in a panic.

Danny's own core can't help but try to match it's frequency, a low contented humming echoes between them, safe it seems to say.

Curaré can't be older then 4, which means she was resurrected young and that she died even younger. Danny doesn't know how any of it happened, halfas aren't created easily, the amount of energy needed...

She's so small.

He hopes it was fast, whatever it was that did this to her, made her like him.

Danny also hopes that her injuries aren't permanent. Some ghosts keep the carnage of their corpses well into the after life but as a Halfa Curaré should heal, even if she got those injuries during her ressurction. For her sake it'll be much easier to find some sense of normalcy if she isn't always actively bleeding, even if the blood itself is just an ecto-echo of real blood.

Danny curls his knees up to his chest and hides his face for a moment just trying to breathe. He's too young to be taking care of a toddler, he's still six months away from turning 18 and hes got school on Monday. His eyes burn and his throat constricts as he tries to swallow.

No one else but Danny would know how to take care of Curaré, and she's got no family to try and stumble their way through it. Danny can't take her back to the league and he sure as hell isn't going to search for whoever put that brand on her neck.

Even if he dropped her off at the fire station Gotham only has one Meta focused orphanage, it's state run and all the kids in it have to wear little prison style jump suits. And the food sucks, Danny can personally vouch for that.

She doesn't have a home, she's just as out of place here in Gotham as Danny is. Danny really wishes, not for the first time, that he had an adult here. Like Jazz or hell even Mr. Fuckin Lancer.

Just anyone. Anyone who could tell Danny what to do about this. Who could help him out with the child he's suddenly acquired.

He wishes anyone else was here so it wouldn't just be him and Curaré. Two dead kids sitting on the floor of a studio apartment in the Bowery watching cartoons.

What a pair the two of them will make, oh God. Danny laughs as a few tears stain his jeans.

Curaré makes a curious little noise that has Danny forcing his head up. She's reached the inevitable end of her snack sized bag and she looks absolutely devastated. She turns to look at him, tilting the empty bag towards him as if to say ' can you believe this shit!'

Danny can't help but give her a watery smile, no more crying Fenton, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

" Okay, one thing at a time." Danny tells himself. " You finished your Cheetos and now it's time for dinner, right? Stop me if I'm wrong."

Curaré just looks at him.

Danny's not worried, they're gonna have all the time in the world to teach her to appreciate humour and also English.

" I'm going to take that as a yes. " Danny hops up off the floor and goes to find his phone, nobody does dinner like the local Batburger.

Little foot steps follow him into the hallway, he'll have to get used to that sound he's going to be hearing it a lot.

Food first, everything would be better after they ate.

...............

For BG I imagine he's been living in Gotham for a few months and found Curaré while popping in and out of different portals in Gotham. (Who woulda guessed that some portal in Gotham leads right to the lazarus pit)

Note: if u wanna see cool art for this AU it's all in the Danny and the little dead girl au tag on my pg!

#dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #batfam #gotham #batman beyond #if yall didnt know curaré is an assasin from batman beyond #not an oc baby this isnt deviantart circa 2005 #i just imagine the bats meeting Danny and him eventually introducing them to his “kid” and just producing this little gremlin #and dannys all like “ isnt she adorable!” #and like yeah shes objectively terrifying looking but also the power of ecto babies is strong #and the batfam is weak #they will adopt jason into their halfa gang dont worry #dc x dp #danny and the little deadgirl au

[mystellenia]

hello love!! hope you're doing well :)

can i request ellie x reader first time? not having found the right moment for a while, maybe reader bought lingerie for ellie? fluffy would be nice :)

first time with needy!ellie ୨ৎ

summary: you and ellie cuddle up on the couch for a night in but it escalates quickly to become your first time together. you're shocked when ellie says she has a surprise for you...

content: fingering (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), a little bit of loser!ellie being like sheepish with starting things, then quickly replaced by needy!ellie 🤤🤤 that's about it hehe

notes: like no plot, jumping STRAIGHT in 💕 eventual smut under the cut. sorry to the anon who requested this because it took so long to be able to update it since daddy tumblr decided to shadowban me. ALSO sorry because the request asked for ellie to be the one wearing the lingerie, but... i just can't imagine that and then write that when seattle and santa barbara ellie exist... i hope the change wasn't too bad <33

(wc 2.3k)

the windows rattled from consistent gusts of wind, chilling drafts seeping in through the edges. the weather had been particularly bad the past week, alternating between heavy downpour and whistling winds. with this, you and ellie mostly stayed in, cooped up in the comfort of fleece blankets and old cable reruns. 

the two of you now sat on the couch, your intertwined legs covered by the large throw blanket the two of you shared. ellie absentmindedly traced figure-eights on your upper thigh where her hand rested, her arm draped limply over your waist. you glance up to watch the colors of the tv dance across her face, painting multicolored hues on the freckled apples of her cheeks. reaching up, you delicately rake her hair back from her face, your hand trailing down to cup the back of her neck.  

at this, ellie rears her head back to catch your stare from where your cheek lay on her chest, your eyes flicking between both of hers. “hi,” she prompts with a curious tilt of her head, a lazy smile teasing her lips. 

you hum in response, your gaze tracing the freckles adorning the high points of her face, the caramel flecks arranged like a constellation—a constellation you’d recognize in the dark, like a fingerprint.  

ellie moves to grab your chin and press her lips to yours in a slow and simple kiss. after a moment, she pulls back to swipe her thumb over your cheek and drags her hand back to cradle your head.  

“you’re just so pretty,” she mumbles while looking at your lips, her eyes quickly flicking up and slightly widening in realization that she’d said that out loud. you smooth her hair back with both hands before interlinking your fingers behind her neck, and a rosy blush covers her cheeks at your silent stare. you pull her back in by her shoulders, feeling the heat radiating through the thin cotton of her long-sleeved henley. her tongue prods the seam of your lips in permission, which you readily grant as you give an open-mouthed kiss.  

in no time at all, the kiss grows rushed and desperate, your hands tangling in her hair and hers clawing at your shoulders. your hands begin their way down her back when she abruptly pulls away in what seems to be self-restraint, her eyes screwed tightly shut as she rests her forehead on yours. 

“hey, hey, i’m here,” you assure, easing her back to meet your eyes.  

“i’m sorry,” she starts, “i just… i…” she trails off as she finally looks into your eyes, brows drawn together tightly in almost pain. the vibrant green of her eyes had almost entirely vanished, replaced by the black of her blown pupils, her intentions now clearer than ever. 

it wasn't like you two hadn't kissed; of course you had. they'd even gotten heated like this very kiss, but ellie had never displayed such hunger in her eyes, such restraint.  

you guys didn't want to rush anything. after all, you had all the time in the world together, so why speed through things when you could take your time exploring each other? 

but now you were ready. you had been for a while, and you find the words leaving you before you even realize what it means. 

“yes,” you breathe out, eyes darting across her face in anticipation as you await her response. she begins to ask what you mean but is cut off by your hands on either side of her face pulling her into a bruising kiss, teeth clashing in a fervent dance, answering any unspoken questions.  

she deeply hums into the kiss, grabbing on to your wrists and easing you back to lay against the cloth cushions of the couch. fingers teasing the hem of your shirt, she swiftly pulls it over your head and discards it somewhere in the room, leaving you in your simple bralette as she returns to her brutal determination in dismantling you. 

you thumb the waistband of your sleep shorts, your fingers beginning to untie the bow securing them to your hips. ellie watches you shimmy your shorts down your legs slack-jawed, then pauses their journey down, blurting out, “wait, wait. i have something for you.” 

she darts off you and into your shared bedroom, beckoning you with a call of your name. you enter the room to a dark blue gift bag on the bed with a name written on it in gold script that you wouldn’t even try to pronounce. pushing the black tissue paper aside to peek in, your eye catches on the lacy strap of what seemed to be a bra, a shade of red so dark it looked black in the dimmed light of the bedroom. 

fidgeting with her hands, ellie finally addresses you. “it’ll look nice, i think. go try it on,” she instructed, her head nodding to the cracked bathroom door. 

you follow her instructions and head to the bathroom with the small gift bag in tow, the door shutting behind you with a click. you’re met with your reflection, eyes wide and mouth agape in desire. setting the bag on the counter, you begin to remove the tissue paper to reveal the set. with the better lighting of the bathroom, you begin to see the intricacy of the lace and stitching.  

pulling the bra out, you hold it up to your chest and examine it in the mirror. a wine-red bustier style bra greets you, with tulle panels along the sides and laces running down the back for corset-style tightening. setting the bra down, you reach for the matching panties of the same red color. along with them comes a garter belt embellished with silver decals, laced scalloping trimming the edges. 

after taking a moment to gather yourself, you begin to carefully slip on the pieces of the set, careful not to tear anything. you secure the bra and position the garter belt to sit snugly on your hips and smooth your hands down your body in satisfaction; it did look nice.  

you quickly wipe the giddy smile off your face at the thought of ellie’s reaction and fix your hair, finally turning to exit the bathroom. as the door slowly opens, you see ellie quickly standing up from the bed to meet you, her chest caving at her audible gasp as her gaze leisurely rakes down your figure. suddenly shy, you glance at your feet and trail your hands down your sides to dry them off.  

trying to calm the rapid rise and fall of her shoulders, she shuts her mouth and begins her journey towards you, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. “jesus,” she hisses, her hands landing on your lace clad hips and venturing to your lower back to pull you into a slow but sensual kiss, evoking a shudder to rake down your spine.  

she spins you around to walk you back to the bed, the blanket tickling the backs of your thighs as she folds over you. as she crawls over you, both of her legs tighten around one of your thighs as she nudges her knee into your core, pressing your damp underwear to your clit and making you moan into her mouth. her kisses move to your neck, and you cage her head in with your forearms, hugging her head and willing her to stay where she was. her hand moves to your left breast to experimentally swipe a thumb over your nipple, the friction from the lace making you arch your back into her hand to chase the sensation. 

ellie slowly but surely pulls back to give you a starved stare, her arousal visible in the flush of her cheeks and the huffs and puffs of her chest. your eyes meet hers as she gives you one loaded stare—a silent plead for permission to take things further. her cold palms slide from their previous position on your boobs down to your waist, then your hips as she pushes the hem of your underwear down just a hair. you place your hand over hers, agreeing with her unspoken words as you move her hand with hers to push your underwear down to your mid-thigh.  

her hand stutters on its way down your thigh, stopping your underwear on its journey off your body. she simply stares at you, at your glossy cunt and how swollen it is from neglect. her index finger trails through the crease of your thigh and hip, created by your bent and spread knees. 

you take over and completely remove your underwear and fling it to a corner of the room. ellie quickly pulls her tank top over her head, leaving her in just a sports bra and startling you in the process from the sudden movement. 

finally, her hand moves to your core while she swipes a thumb up your slit, eliciting a throaty moan from you. she begins circling your clit, her gaze locked on your face and feeding off of your little whines and cries. you fold over and yelp when she inserts her middle finger inside you, her thumb still expertly moving around your pulsing nub.  

her fingers still moving in tandem on you, she breathes, "god, you have no idea how pretty you look right now. my pretty, needy girl." you moan at her words, and she nods, as if approving of your reaction and asking for more. 

the finger moving inside you was just constantly hitting that soft, spongy spot that she found so effortlessly, and you desperately clawed at her wrist and pleaded, "waitwaitwait- el i’m- i’m gonna-" she kisses you to shut you up, but ultimately obliges as she slows her movements down to a stop. 

she brings her fingers up to look at the mess you've made of them, then moves them to your mouth before ordering, "clean 'em up, baby." 

you do just that, propping up on your elbows to take her fingers in your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, humming at the tangy taste. looking up through your lashes, you see her face and how her bottom lip is pulled into her mouth, how her eyes lazily focus on yours. 

she lays down beside you and pats her chest before saying, "come sit." 

"what?" you question. 

"come sit—like on my face," she clarifies. 

"oh, i- you don't have to do that." 

"i know that, i want to," she insists. "now come on." 

she grabs your waist to guide you up as you straddle her torso, the cloth of her sports bra deliciously tickling your glistening cunt. as you shimmy up, she locks her hands under and around your thighs, strapping you close to her mouth.  

her warm breath feathers across you, and you stifle a shudder at the sensation. you feel her nose touch your clit and you jump up, causing her to huff in frustration. 

"i swear, if you don't fucking—" she pulls you by your thighs to sit flush against her mouth, "—sit down." you harshly drop against her lips and she hums into your vulva, making you groan against the back of your hand. 

you nearly scream as she licks one flat stripe up your slit, then your hands shoot out to catch your weight as your body threatens to fold flat over when she starts making out with your cunt. kissing on you as she would do on your mouth. your knees lock around her head as you thread your fingers into her muddy hair, rocking into her sloppy kisses. 

the room now smelled of sex, your moans and cries dancing with the vulgar smacks of her tongue. she switches from sloppy kisses to calculated flicks, her tongue bringing you closer to the edge just so. 

the vibrations of her pleased moans on your clit make your legs twitch each time, and she speeds up her movements, moving down to begin fucking into you with her tongue. your body takes over as you rock into her mouth, riding the slow buildup of pleasure while rolling your hips for your clit to meet her nose with every back-and-forth.  

but when ellie sucks on your clit so hard it makes you see stars, your orgasm catches you by surprise and drowns you in an all-consuming wave of ecstasy, your vision blurred by unshed tears as you cry her name out. she doesn't stop, though—her tongue continues its violent assault, sliding through your folds with ease thanks to your endless supply of slick. 

once you come down from your high and your eyes focus once more, you see ellie's eyes, still closed, and her tongue peeking out as she cleans you up in long, flat strips. her hands guide you off her to lay on the bed next to her.  

perched up on her elbow, she looks down at you and chuckled at how you still struggled to catch your breath.  

"jesus, you taste good. i can't believe we went that long without doing anything," she announces, looking lovingly at how your hair splays around you in a halo. 

"yeah," you breathlessly respond, "that was... that- i was..." you resort to just shaking your head to convey your disbelief at her sheer skill. 

"did i fuck the words out of you?" she teases, earning an annoyed glare from you. "relax," she laughs, "i'm just playing. you don't have to answer, i already know i did," she mumbles. you would fight her on it but can't seem to find the energy to when she scoops you into her arms and kisses the crown of your head. 

ellie's "g'night, my love" is the last thing you hear before falling into a deep sleep, warm from her embrace. 

a/n: so glad to get this OUT OF MY FUCKING DRAFTS i got this req prob 19 years ago and i've just had the worst writers block. i hope u like it anon :)))

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

#mystellenia 𐑂°‧₊ #elle answers 𐑂°‧₊ #loser!ellie #needy!ellie #ellie #ellie tlou #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #abby #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby x you #abby x y/n #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson the last of us

[bublechu]

Synopsis: A sudden commotion causes to rattle you awake. Luckily a certain feline was there to soothe you sleep.

{{Poppy Playtime}} Pair: Catnap/reader

Relationship: Platonic (reader is a child)

{{Potential}} Trigger Warning: Grammatical errors, Distinct implication of violence, blood mention, suggestive (implied to be a gore), hallucination mention, Isolation but remain ambiguous if it's from Catnap or the Scientists or the reader itself, implication of reader being an orphan, catnap is bigger than the reader, catnap is not Theo, Spoilers, Vaguely implied Dead Dove Do Not Eat

🐚.Admin's note: Inspiration from @yanderes-galore and their masterpiece ✨ might take/use their au if allowed 👉👈

The first sight upon your awakening is the vibrant hues of the interior of the playground. Accompanied by a playful rhymes designed to soothe or/and engage the childrens. The cushioned floors offer safety, should they stumble or fall from their antics, while the structures of twisted slides, hidden tunnels, and roped ladders await for exploration.

Then there's also the smiling critters.

A TV shows that were meant to entertain the children while their parents are away. One of the mascots managed to catch your mild interest. Its name is- ah, catnap? You're uncertain. Lacking socialization with others nor interest in the cartoon-ish group made you quite an airhead in their existence despite their increasing popularity. But Somehow, the scientists deem it fitting to assign one of the plush creatures to you. Initially strange, you couldn't help but question why the cat was chosen to be your companion. The scientists dismissed your inquiries, stating that Catnap would keep you company if you started to feel a tad lonely.

Since then, the cat has remained by your side, and as you spend more time together, you begin to notice peculiarities about the plushie. It seems to possess a human-like speech and behavior, eager to participate in various activities with you. Despite this, it still retains its resemblance to a real cat, often purring and cuddling like a genuine pet. However, the strangest feature of all is its ability to emit a unique smoke that makes the drowsiness cloud your mind.

It's strange and quite alarming to say the very least but, hey. At least you have a companion now. Right?

Suddenly, a deafening crash shattered the silence, breaking the tranquility in the air as you startled awake. Disoriented and still fatigued, you softly rub your eyes as you fumble out of your assigned bed and stride forward. The eerie silence has yet to be cutted again by ear-piercing screams through the other side. Although quite subtle, somehow still clear. This piques your curiosity as you stride forward and investigate the situation.

As you reached the door, you cautiously peered through the small gap you'd created, surveying the surroundings. Usually, there were guards or scientists patrolling the colorful hallway, but now, there's currently none. Odd.

Stepping outside your room, you embarked on an exploration of the area. The farther you venture from your room, the more the drenching smell intensifies. Accompanied by a crimson hue painting the interior and occasionally, a heavy footsteps and a faint gutteral growl. You've reached the very end of the facility as you come face to face with a large door.

Just as you are about to reach for the knob, a sudden familiar purring sound broke through the eerie silence, causing you to pause in your tracks. Turning a corner, you were greeted by the sight of Catnap, your oversized plush companion, sitting calmly on the floor. Its vibrant purple fur seemed to shimmer in the faint light along the moon collar on his neck. It's large, hallowed eyes stares at you with an almost knowing gaze. As its tail swayed around playfully.

Catnap? What are you doing here? You rotate your body as you stride to pick it up. a mixture of curiosity and suspicion washing over you. The plush creature tilted its head slightly, as if in response, before emitting a soft purr and nuzzle into your hand. It's long tails, loosely wrapped around your arms as it leans and licks your face in a reassuring manner and an attempt to distract you. The gesture made you recoil away as you notice a newfound smell that lingers around his usual lavender fur. It's the same smell that has been wafting in the air yet you're unable to pinpoint its exact origin.

"Friend... stay..!." Catnap's voice box vibrates, sounding slightly disoriented as it tries to pull you away. You shake your head, brushing it off as you attempt to inquire about the event unfolding and the disappearance of the facility's workers.

you adamantly approach the door, intent on seeing what's behind it but before could move any further, a faint red smoke fills the air, causing you to stumble. Thankfully, Catnap's tails wrap around your waist, preventing you from falling as your body goes limp. The purple feline gently lifts you onto its furry arm and carries you on its shoulder, leading you away as you weakly squirm, trying to regain your senses. Despite your protests, the cat remains unbothered, continuing to purr and softly scratch your back as hallucinations begin to cloud your mind.

As Catnap carries you back towards your room, your senses begin to fade as the hallucinations growing more vivid with each passing moment along the fatigues gnawing at the back of your eyes. Upon reaching your room, Catnap gently lays you down on the soft cushions, its purrs growing louder as it suddenly curls close to you. As you slowly drift into an uneasy sleep Catnap remains by your side. acting like a guardian as he continues to purr and nuzzle at you.

... Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the door, a scene of carnage and horror unfolds, the aftermath of Catnap and the toys action around the factory. Yet within the wall of your room, all is peaceful, the only sound the gentle purring of your loyal companion as it cuddles with you, guarding you from the terrors that lurk beyond.

#🐚.Admin writing #poppy playtime #catnap x reader #sleepyangel

[tarvyunderscore]

Next redesign, pathetic tv guy

More info about the process below:

Chronic case of interesting character, bad design execution. I LOVE technology based villains, and his personality makes him such a fun antagonist.  But dear God, does he look unrefined. There’s so many cool ideas but they’re all thrown together. 

Anyway, one of my two main complaints is the color scheme, specifically how the colors are used. Personally, I think due to his design having only vibrant colors, it makes him look more tacky than futuristic. So I gave him muted clothing to make the electrical bits more obvious. It also helps him not blend into the cool blue backgrounds that he's normally in.

Next complaint, his clothes are lame. I think the top hat looks silly and I don't understand what the striped shirt is for. It's just design clutter. So I simplified his design and made him more accurate to the time period he was alive. This is also why I made his flat screen chunky, mainly for aesthetic purposes. I kept the wifi signal but made it more subtle on his tie. I also gave him bigger heels, a subtle nod to his ego. He wants to be tall.

Also, I know he's supposed to be the guy trying to imitate Alastor, but that doesn't mean he has to be a carbon copy. Frankly, I think he wants to be BETTER than Alastor. So he's more dressed up than him.

Lastly, my big differentiation from canon. I took the idea that Vox upgrades his body and ran with it. His "TV" body isn't his real one, it's just one he pilots around as his base form is more unstable. I personally think he was electrocuted to death, so this is my way to interpret that. Y'know, visible skeleton, plug shaped tail, yadda yadda. The instability of electricity is also like his temper!!

But yeah, I made him more robotic, that's about it :DDD

DISCLAIMER: I'm not whaling on the of designs out of malice, these are PERSONAL critiques. I like the series and I'm doing this out of a love for character design.

#fanart #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel redesign #redesign #digital art #art #vox redesign

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Nice restoration on this 1890 Italianate Victorian in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It's white, but the restoration is very good, so it needs the new owners to put their own stamp on it. 4bds, 2.5ba, $525K.

The wood has been stripped, but they accented the posts in black and brightened the rest up with white.

I can't tell if they oiled the bare wood or put a satin finish on it, but I like it.

The sitting room has a wonderful original marble fireplace.

What were they thinking with that modern light fixture and modern furniture. Why do buyers feel that they have to make their beautiful historic Victorians look new?

Totally in love with the way they did this kitchen. No ugly new or 80s style cabinetry. How refreshing.

And, they left the ancient fireplace. Wish they didn't paint it white, so you could see the details of the old brick.

This is cool. They left the scullery untouched and didn't make it a home office or something.

And, there you see the original maids stairs going up to their quarters from the scullery.

Look at the sink in the guest powder room. What a beauty.

The primary bedroom is large and has another original marble fireplace, but unfortunately, they never put in a closet. I would have to get a carpenter to come in and design one against this back wall.

Small bath with modern tile, vintage tub & sink.

If this became a child's room that mantle would look adorable painted in pastel colors.

Look at the fireplace in this room. Beautiful.

This bedroom is huge and has an en-suite.

It was renovated with a modern shower, but the light and mirror look original.

The basement isn't finished, but they brightened it up with white paint. Look at the old foundation. And, there's a vintage sink.

It's not bad.

Looks like they watch TV and exercise down here.

They have a patio and fenced in yard in the back.

I wonder if that was an extension they build on the original home. I would buy this house, it's cool.

Looks like a nice neighborhood, but it's on a service road. That wouldn't bother me.

#italianate victorian #restored victorian #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

[the0doreslover]

hii ! i absolutely love your writing and i don’t really know if you do requests but if you do i have one for theodore nott.

it’s inspired by the song blue hair by tv girl. basically the reader is a metamorphmagus and has blue hair. this song can be interpreted in many ways and i absolutely love it for this so it’s really up to you. i personally see it as the blue hair would represent her childish side. how theodore and her have known each other since their childhood and been through every moment in her life, her insecurities when she asks him how to be funny or pretty. he loves this side of her. he’s always had a crush on her. but then he slowly sees her falling apart. maybe from other people’s jugement or she just matured. and she cut her blue hair or maybe decided to change her hair colour because of this and he just misses her old side.

feel free to change as much things as you want

xo

Thank you so much! it means so much to me when people say this, i absolutely love this request here you go x

Blue hair | theodore nott x fem!reader

You and Theodore had been friends longer than either of you could remember. The vibrant threads of your connection began in the earliest days of childhood, where laughter and whispers echoed through hidden alcoves. He was your confidant, and you were his. He saw you for more than the colors of your hair, something you were deeply insecure about.

He was there through some of the most important moments of your life (even the most embarrasing ones) like when you accidentally dropped an glass of water on the table while your family was having dinner with the notts and turned your hair purple out of sheer embarrassment. While your mother scowled, he pushed his own glass all over himself getting up and throwing a fuss, shifting the attention onto himself. It was something you would never forget.

As the years passed, your bond only grew stronger.

From the moment you entered hogwarts you were noticed, not in the way you wanted though.

"why is your hair blue?" a little girl asked while you were all waiting to be sorted

"why is yours blonde?" theo butted in for you watching as the girl stuttered before he put an arm around your shoulder.

Your unique ability as a metamorphmagus had always fascinated him. He loved how you could change your appearance at will, yet he could always see the true you beneath the surface. Your blue hair, which was what he sometimes saw as a representation of your childish side, only added to your charm in his eyes.

He would happily fight anyone who bullied you, and he did a few times

you had gotten one of the highest scores in your charms assignment and you were getting heavily praised which seemed to upset a few people,

"the chameleon got more than me?" you didn't even have time to see who had made the comment before you heard a loud bang, you turned around and saw theodore on top of seamus finnigan holding his arms down shouting at him to apologise.

After that incident no one dared to say anything... to your face at least.

One day, during your fourth year, as the sun set behind the castle's spires, you found yourselves sitting by the Black Lake. The waters shimmered in shades of gold, and the air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers. Your voice broke the peaceful silence, "How do i make myself interesting ?"

He turned his gaze towards you, increasing your heart rate as he opened his mouth to answer. "you don't"

"what do you mean?" you asked

"you're already the most interesting person i know"

"theo i'm being serious"

"so am i"

you dropped the subject realising you weren't going to get the answer you wanted and it quickly settled back into a comfortable silence

"You know that you're more than your hair right? more than anyone's judgment. you don't need to change a thing."

"yeah, it was stupid sorry" you said lying through your teeth

Over time, your feelings for Theodore began to shift. What once was an innocent friendship evolved into something deeper. You found yourself looking forward to your moments together, cherishing the way his laughter warmed your heart and his presence made the world feel a little brighter.

But life had a way of throwing unexpected challenges your way. As sixth year approached, the weight of impending reality and responsibilities pressed down on you.

The colors of your hair began to fade as you grappled with the complexities of growing up. You started questioning yourself, your choices, and even your appearance.

What even was normal? brown, blonde, black, ginger? why do you have to look the same as everyone else to be liked.

you stood before the mirror in your dorm room, your once-vibrant blue hair now a muted shade, it only ever shifted to murky colours now. You felt a pang sadness, your hair didn't glow like it used to anymore, You hated it, just as much as everyone else hated you for it, you weren’t ‘normal’

You grabbed the pair of scissors on the desk and brought it to your hair. You closed your eyes and once you opened them again you saw a chunk of 'normal' coloured hair on the ground.

Pansy came into the dorm a few moments later and saw you on your bed staring at the wall.

She helped you even out your hair while rubbing your back, she wasn't used to seeing you without some sort of colour tinting your hair but she stayed silent and instead stayed rubbing your back and wiping your tears.

a lot of people noticed the change in your hair... how could they not, your hair hadn't been a different colour for weeks

"your hair looks so much better like this"

"i love your hair"

"keep it like this"

"you look so much better now"

"why would you do that?" Theodore said slowly coming into the common room where you sat between your friends.

"do what?" you asked quickly waving at a new person who had taken interest in you after your change

"y/n don't act dumb, why would you cut your hair"

"i wanted to do something different"

"you wanted to do something different or you wanted to be someone different"

"i-"

"don't even answer that" he said storming up to his dorm

After a few days theo had apologised to you, which you happily accepted missing his importance in your life, he still made it very clear his views on your choice but decided to quiet down.

You wouldn’t admit it but you were slowly regretting your decision more and more each day, you missed the way you got to wake up every morning wondering what colour your mind had made your hair today, you missed feeling different and most of all you missed the way theo loved it.

"Theo?" you asked breaking the peace of your current predicament, which was you both under a tree while he read aloud to you.

"yeah"

"Do you think i'm pretty?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

He set his book aside and scooted closer to you. "i've always thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world."

“even without my colourful hair?” you pressed

“of course, it made me sad you thought you had to cut your blue hair off in order to become liked but you did, and i can’t change that… i don’t love you any less”

You sighed, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you.

"But Im not pretty anymore right! i used to be funny, didn't I? And my hair... It used to be... I thought maybe it's time to grow up. My hair was childish"

Theodore reached out, placing a hand on yours. "Your hair was, or should i say is, a part of who you are, you're allowed to change, but sometimes it's best to keep the most amazing parts of you the same. Your blue hair was never a sign of childishness; it was a testament to your uniqueness and your willingness to be yourself."

Weeks turned into months, and as the final week of your sixth year drew to a close, the future loomed before you both. On the eve of your last day, you stood on the Astronomy Tower, gazing at the stars.

Your hair had slowly been returning to its colourful hue, but you knew that this time, the color was more than just a physical trait.

Theodore stood beside you, his presence comforting. "It's a big world out there," he said softly. "But no matter where life takes us next year, remember that you'll always be the girl with the cool hair to me, as much as you hate it, you're my girl with the cool hair"

you smiled and leaned against him

"i love you" he said confidently "i love you for you and that's not going to change. Even when your hair goes back to it's normal colour i'll still love you more than i will ever be able to express"

“you think my hair is going to go back to it’s normal colours?” you asked hopefully

“i know it will, i’ll personally make sure it does”

"i love you too"

and despite the fact you couldn't see it, theodore pulled you into a tight embrace looking down on the new blue hairs that had just begun glowing.

#x reader #harry potter #hogwarts #fanfic #slytherin #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #theodore nott x you #theo nott

[helluva-simper]

Drugs

Word count: 1k

              Valentino walked into his penthouse, the main color of the room being a red and dark pink with an occasional blue and purple. He sits on the couch turning on the TV. He leaned towards the table to grab the cigarette box but when he opened it, nothing was in it. “Voxxy!? Where did I put my extra cigarettes?!” 

Valentino gets up and looks around the living room as Vox yells, “I don’t Fucking know! You probably used them all since you smoke them like there’s no tomorrow!” Valentino audibly groans. 

Vox walks into the room and laughs at Valentino’s look of despair. “You look so stupid, Val. Can’t you just smoke something else to control the bitches.” He asked, carrying his “fuck Alastor cup.” in a blue robe. “I could but those are my favorite.” Valentino whines as Vox sighs. “So… Voxxy baby~... can you do me a favor and watch over the club while I’m gone.” “No. I’m incredibly too busy to deal with your bullshit.” Vox said.

“Come on~. I’ll pay you back. And I promise you won’t regret it.” Valentino said, running his fingers down the side of Vox's TV screen. Vox groans as he pushes his hands away. “Val, I said-” “You don’t even have to stay long. Just need you to make sure everything is going smoothly.” Valentino says grabbing his phone about to call someone to pick him up already knowing that he has won. “Ugh, fine.” Vox walks away drinking whatever was in his cup. Valentino was off to see you.

You were a bee demon that went by the name of ‘Hunne’. You were a popular and wealthy demon by selling a product called “Honey buns” since it was originally supposed to be in food but… eh… you just thought that drugs would be better. It was a drug that could make you feel like you could fly or make you feel completely relaxed depending on how much you take. It was in all forms: pills, powder, cigarettes, and that was why Valentino was taking the time out of his day to drive to the other side of Hell.

He walks in to see you smoking your own stuff. “Hunne, baby, how ya been?” Valentino said walking to the counter almost scrunching his nose at how strong the smell of smoke was near you. “Tino, haven’t seen you in a hot minute. Ran out of my stuff?” You asked, putting your cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. 

You had black and yellow stripes all over your skin, your hair was messy and was covering your face barely able to see through your hair to see your fully black eyes. You were quite skinny and frail with boney fingers that had long, black nails. When you spoke, you would make a buzzing noise.

“Sadly so, but I also came to see my favorite stoner.” Valentino said, having a toothy grin resting his upper left arm on the table. “Of course, Tino. Now…” You stretch out your thin arm and open your hand. He digs inside his robe and pulls out his wallet giving you the money. You smile, taking it and putting it in a lock box behind you. 

As you bend down, Valentino wolf whistles looking up and down at your body. Even though you were very scrawny, Valentino found it very interesting. How easy it would be to dominate you, break you. But if he wasn’t your best customer, you would have shot him with the gun you had in the box as well. So, you just let him wish.

“You know, you would make a wonderful assistant~.” Valentino suggested with a smug look. You stood up and grabbed a vial from inside a cabinet as you said, “Maybe in the next Hell.”

Valentino had a specific type of cigarette that he always requested. It had a vibrant red color and had a chemical that, without the right protection, would make anyone other than him incredibly high, that’s why you wore gloves and a mask.

Valentino rolls out his tongue letting his saliva drip into the small tube. When it was full he said, “I would like to see how my little worker bee does their job.” “I prefer for you to stay outside.” You answered walking to the backroom door. As you did, he walked to you. 

He puts his lower arms on your hips and the upper on your shoulders. “Baby, come on~ I won’t touch anything… unless it’s you~.” He purrs in your ear. Since you knew that you were too weak to fight an overlord, you just turned around, dug out his wallet, feeling his bare chest sending chills down his spine, pulled out his wallet, and took out 2 $100 bills.

“You drive a hard bargain, my sweet.” He spoke. “If you don’t take your dick holding hands off me, I will not make your drugs.” You said firmly. Valentino pulls his hands away and holds them up, surrendering. 

When Valentino backed away, you opened the back door. The room was almost pitch black with a very dim orange light. A visible black smoke filled the room, making Valentino choke. “Fncking hell! How do you work or even breathe in here?!” Valentino said, waving his hand around. You just shrugged. 

The same way a bee collects pollen, your hair always had pollen in it, the only difference was that you didn’t need to taste good. You always being in an enclosed room while smoking tainted the pollen being the main ingredient. When it’s mixed with Valentino’s saliva well… you’ll be so high you might attempt to fly off the Vee’s tower.

You walk to a giant mixing machine and put the two ingredients in it.  You put the time for 3 �� minutes and started it.  As it mixed you walked over to a table and grabbed the lighter and cigarette from it then lit the cigarette. Valentino watched your every move with a growing idea. 

Valentino walks to you taking the cigarette out of your hand. “What the fuck man?!” You exclaimed, reaching for it but you were too weak to move the hand that was pushing you back. He wrapped his hand around your chin and pulled your face to his. He took a drag, pulled down your mask, and blew it in your face. Being the addict you were, you instantly inhale the smoke. “Give… give it back.” You muttered trying to pull away but he didn’t let go. 

“So, Hunne, baby~. May I know why you have to wear all this protection?” Valentino asked. He didn't really didn't need to though since he already knew. You had told him the first few months he started requesting his special drug. He just want to hear your own voice say it.

            You stayed silent, not replying to his question trying to step away but used his lower arms to keep you in place. Valentino tales another drag watching you breathe it in like you needed it, like it was oxygen.

             “Come on, baby~. I just need you to say a sentence or two. Can be too hard, right?” He spoke backing you up into the wall. You were terrifide. Yeah, you being his favorite drug dealer let you know that he wasn't gonna kill you… somewhat but him towering over you like that was making you feel uncomfortable.

            Before you could tell him to go fnck himself, he pushed himself against you and moved your chin up allowing him to unravel his tongue around your neck. Your breathing stopped.

            What was this smell? God, it was intoxicating making your vision blur. You felt like you had just stopped thinking. Valentino could see the break on your face. He kissed you and you didn't fight back, didn't even think about it (as if you could). He sild his tongue inside, exploring, making the effects of the chemical worse.

            Valentino, his voice deep and breathy, whispered in your ear, “Perhaps the drugs can wait… can't they?” The only response he got was incoherent noises which made him smirk. “Till then, just be a good little “Hunne” bee and let Daddy do what he does best.”

After reading all this comment "WNTBT" (We need therapy big time) in the comments and I'll be paying for your therapy

Tag

@rerarlo

@kadegravy -my fav Stoner

#random #hazbin hotel #Valentino x reader #Valentino x you #hazbin valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #the vees #Hazbin hotel #Hazbin #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel #vox the tv demon #hazbin hotel vox #Valentino fanfic #Vox fanfic

[annah-kitathryne]

I recently mentioned I liked some of the Alt covers for the Batgirls series. I thought I'd share some of my other favourites.

Batgirls #1

I just think it's kinda fun. A nice homage cover and I really like the simple highlights in Steph's hair.

Batgirls #3

The lines feel like a sketch. It's giving a bit of a Spiderverse feel to it if that makes sense. I love the yellow outlines on the foreground compared to the background. The overstuffed utility belts make a lot of sense.

Batgirls #6

I love the vibrant colours on this cover. Pink Yellow and Blue. Reminds me of printer ink. The yellow being a highlight, and the pink almost becoming a shadow or lowlight on Cass's suit.

Batgirls #7

Love how Cass's cap feels a bit like a wing. The ombre background reminds me of the ombre background sky from Huntress (1994 run). I like how a light blue is used as a highlight and a mid tone blue is used as Steph's undercape compared to the warm tones.

Batgirls #9

The outlines bring pink on Cass where the light hits compared to the solid Spoiler suit lines. Steph's hair is softly outlined compared to the harsh lines.

Batgirls #11

Cass's making up the left ear, and the way both capes make the logo go in different ways. Cass's makes the logo wings go down, and Steph's makes the logo wings go up. The grainy feel to the art reminds me of old comics. Feels a bit nestolgic

Batgirls #12

I own this one. Old Cass Batgirl logo! The art reminds me of a specific era of advertisements and the colors of older TV color. 80s or early 90s anime? IDK I don't remember the right name.

Batgirls #15

Pink sky, blur bag round, and green in the bottom left corner. Cass, who stands out against it, and Steph, who seems to make it her own. I like the idea of some more color to Cass's outfit. A bot of a mix between the Bat suit and the orphan suit. The blue building reminds me of building plans..

Batgirls #16

Paint splatter background. The bit of a white outline. The detailed drawing. It reminds me of the aesthetic background people put behind cut-out pictures. Like a mix of quick art and slow art if that makes sense? The blending of two styles together.

Batgirls #19

Gold outlines?! Yes! Steph has rays of sun behind her. Reminds me of the dead Steph carrying Cass panel from Batgirl 2000. Again, with the paint splatter. Love to see it. The white highlights on Cass's suit.

#dc #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #batgirl #batgirls #comic covers

[aris-ink]

hi this is fear kink anon! 💘 sorry i forgot the member i wanted to choose 😭 but can it be with Jungkook?

baby you deserve a golden medal for your patience, tysm 💖 you said you liked psychological fics.... I tried

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: forbidden romance, steb!siblings au

warnings: mentions of blood, allusions to stalking and violence (not towards the reader), pseudo incest, dub con, allusions to con noncon, dirty talk, degradation, fear kink, choking, mentions of pornographic content and impact play, obsession, manipulation, corruption, hints of dacryphilia

There were many different definitions of art; Jungkook found all of them inside your eyes. He liked to consider himself a good painter, and a few key concepts caught his attention as he worked on developing his skills.

Emotions. There was no point in art if it didn't inspire and make the heart tremble inside its cage. You were the greatest muse of all the raw, vibrant colors exploding behind his eyelids. The most common one always appeared in different shades of red. Something akin to rose petals when you touched him, igniting a fire deep in his abdomen. Something akin to crimson when he saw you with other men, dripping down his swollen knuckles late in the night after he dragged them into empty alleys.

Control. All strokes had to be precise to create the desired effect. And Jungkook found that just as he enjoyed holding the brushes, making them dance on the canvas in his own rhythm - he liked to do the same to you. His vision was his own; it belonged to no one but him. Like you. Every smile and shiver he induced was just as mesmerizing to him as every tear and flinch he caused. It didn't take much; just a little graze of his hand against your thigh, and you were already a beautiful mess of contradicting thoughts and emotions. Trying so hard to stay in line. He knew you too well; your body and soul responded to him in the softest and most primal ways at once, whether you liked it or not.

So why not test your limits? Why not see how much you could handle before you fell apart for him, returned to your barest, rawest form?

It was the only thing on his mind as he sat beside you on the couch, his arm thrown over your shoulder casually. You seemed restless, barely stopping yourself from grimacing at the movie playing on the tv screen. It was your only source of light in the darkness of the living room, providing you with little comfort.

"Jungkook," you sighed, "when are we gonna get to the good part? This movie sucks."

He chuckled.

"It gets better. Don't tell me you're scared already," he teased, tilting his head slightly.

His eyes flickered from the screen to your face fleetingly, noting a small frown forming on it.

"You know I don't like thrillers."

The pout on your lips made his heart flutter. He wanted to lean in and trace his fingertips over your cupid's bow, feel how soft your skin was. But all he did was tighten his arm around you.

"It's a good thing you've got a big brother to protect you, then," he hummed.

You let out a scoff that morphed into a quiet gasp when his hand landed on your thigh. He didn't turn his head in your direction, but he watched you carefully from the corner of his eye. He could see your lips fall open, your back straightening as if you were struck by lightning.

But you said nothing. All this time Jungkook has spent getting you used to being closer to him behind your parents' back was finally paying off. All the nights he took you out to watch horror movies with him, feeling your trembling hand on his chest as you sought protection and shelter in his arms - those were paying off too.

Sighing again, you tried to relax, release the tension in your muscles. In just a few beats, the screaming on the screen would stop and the scene would shift to a different setting, a wild chase through the woods that would no doubt have the hairs on your arms rising when you realized where it was going.

His free hand lifted to your hair, ringed fingers playing with the soft tips, brushing through the strands with a bruising tenderness. With each movement, he counted down the seconds, his sweats already feeling tight when he noticed an outline of trees on the darkening screen.

Three...

Two...

One.

He felt you stiffen in his hold all over again, your eyes widening. You were uncomfortable; it was written all over you, his proximity unnerving rather than consoling when the prey was caught.

Just like you were about to be. A little fly in the spider's web.

It was worse when the clothes started coming off. As though you just realized that the scene was not going to cut off, and perhaps you should have paid more attention to the movie's rating, you squirmed, flattening your palms against the couch.

"I- I think I'm gonna call it a night."

With a twitch of his mouth, Jungkook boldly placed both of his hands on your hips.

"That's not nice," he muttered, effortlessly pulling you up into his lap. "What about spending quality time together? As a family?"

You blinked, suddenly breathless, his thighs flexing under you, arms a cage of steel when you started panicking.

"Jungkook, I mean it! Stop being an asshole."

Your fists beat against his chest, but it didn't bother him at all. It just made him twitch in his pants. He brought his lips close to your ear, making you halt.

"We can finish watching the movie, or I can put on a different one from my personal collection. Your choice, baby."

He knew he didn't need to spell it out for you. You were a smart girl. Defeated, you meekly turned your eyes back towards the depravity on the screen.

"Can I please get back to my seat?" You whispered.

So easy to put into place. Jungkook ignored your request, focused on the way his cock was straining against his sweats, on how if you moved just an inch you'd be able to feel it. He brushed your hair behind your ear when the moaning started, lowering his voice as he spoke again.

"Do you like it?"

"No," you replied sulkily, though he could hear the nervousness making your tone waver. "This movie sucks."

Jungkook bit back a smile, lips pressing closer to your ear.

"I'm not talking about the movie, baby," he murmured. "Do you like the way he fucks her?"

You almost jumped, trying to turn your head towards him to no wonder ask him what the hell was wrong with him. But Jungkook was quicker, gripping your jaw tightly and keeping you still.

"Don't look away and answer my question like a good girl."

He could feel you begin to tremble, but the clenching of your thighs did not escape his attention, and neither did the hitch of your breath.

"This- this isn't funny anymore," you stammered out shakily. "Please, Jungkook."

He dug his fingers into your jaw.

"I'm starting to get angry, baby. Answer the question."

You winced, swallowing harshly, your chest rising unevenly as you tried to find your voice.

"No."

Jungkook clicked his tongue.

"My bad. Let me be more clear."

He dropped his free hand down to your thigh, skimming the inside of it with his fingers.

"Answer honestly, unless you want me to check myself."

The gasp you let out this time was louder, making his stomach simmer with heat. You were so cute; so small and defenseless in the arms of your biggest protector and nightmare all at once.

A sniffle followed. His lips chased the tear that rolled down your cheek.

"Come on, baby, why are you crying? Just tell me the truth. You know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

You bit down on your lower lip. It was fascinating, right down amusing to watch you struggle, trying to locate the courage to either face your inner self and burn with shame, or face the unknown consequences of his anger. The way you shook in his arms made his cock leak precum in excitement, staining his briefs. Every little part of you was his to love, use and control as he pleased. You could have tried to fight. You could have tried to scream. And yet you just sat there and let him tear you to pieces, and to Jungkook that was as much of a love confession as saying the three sacred words out loud.

"You can trust me, baby," he soothed in a whisper. "No one else will ever know. I promise."

You took a deep breath, sniffling once more before attempting to swallow the lump that formed in your throat, pushing the word out through its tight walls.

"Yes."

It was barely a whisper. Light as a feather and yet heavy with the pain it took to pluck it. Jungkook pressed a kiss into your cheek, releasing your jaw from his hold to wrap his arms around your fragile frame again, keep all the scattered pieces of you together.

"Good girl," he whispered, too, his piercing cool against your heated skin, lips brushing across your aching jaw.

With a deep, pleased hum, he began to rub soothing circles into your hand, trying to steady it in his warmth.

"Did it make you wet?" He questioned lowly. "Telling me you liked it."

"Jungkook," you whimpered his name, as though hoping to appeal to his common sense. Or to the softer side of him you were used to. "You're scaring me."

"I know," he pressed the next kiss into your neck, gentle and teasing. "Does that make you wet, too?"

No answer.

Gotcha.

Jungkook slid his palms down your legs, prying them open forcefully, his jaw set tight when you tried to protest, nails digging into your sensitive skin.

"Stop fucking squirming," he hissed. "I am so tired of this little attitude. I will drag you to my room and tie you to the bed if you don't fucking behave."

A visible shiver ran through you, causing him to groan.

"Oh yeah, I know you'd fucking like that."

He flipped you onto the couch like you weighed nothing, instantly trapping you under the heat of his body. Being able to finally look into your eyes was exhilarating, your pupils wide, the fright in them a burning, living flame that made his stiff cock ache.

Gently, he brought an inked hand down to your face and pressed your cheek into the couch, steering your eyes back to the screen.

"Look. Look and tell me you haven't been rubbing that little clit and dreaming I could fuck you like this."

The little shallow breaths leaving you made his gaze fall down to your chest, the swell of your breasts visible through the low neckline of your shirt. He could feel his own pulse racing, his hand more rough than intended when it enveloped your neck.

"Come on, tell me I'm wrong, baby. Tell me you never made yourself come wishing I'd pin you down and give it to you good."

He leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your face.

You still didn't say a word. Moonstruck. That was how he felt. He needed to make you his more than he needed to breathe.

"Well?" He taunted, choking you harder. "Prove me wrong. Tell me you don't want me to slap you around and fuck you like a little whore, ignore your fucking whining and stuff you full of cum. Say it, baby."

All that left your throat was a weak, breathy whimper that made him want to bury himself inside you and wreck your tight, little cunt until your eyes rolled back and your throat ached from screaming.

But - there was no space for impatience in art. He released your neck in favor of slipping his hand in between your legs, pressing his fingers right into your panties.

A strained grunt slipped through his teeth when he felt the sticky, wet spot on them, your thighs flinching at the contact.

"Fuck."

You avoided his eyes, even though he could feel you seeking more of his touch, hips rolling subtly, chest trembling with each breath you took. He pressed his thumb into your clothed clit, for no more than a moment before he pulled his hand away entirely.

Although you tried to catch his wrist to stop him and get him back to where you needed him, you didn't complain. Like you were too terrified to speak, whether it was because of him or because of your own desires. Most likely both.

Cooing, he kissed your soft cheek.

"Now, there, you know how to be good when you want to, don't you?"

Cupping your face, he made you look back at him, staring right into your eyes when he closed the distance between you.

And yet, all he gave you was a ghost of a kiss, a touch that was barely there. It still made his heart thrum and his cock jump in his sweats.

"I'm gonna take care of you, baby," he breathed into your lips. "I'm gonna make all your dreams come true. I'll catch you someday when you're walking home and drag you into some filthy alley. And you can scream and cry and pretend you don't like it all you want if that makes you feel better about being a messed up, little slut. I hope you cry a lot."

A shiver ran up his spine at the soft sound that reached his ears. A moan. Short, quiet, shaky, full of mortification, but it was there.

The next sound was more familiar, a reminder of the constant ticking of the clock. A car pulling up into the driveway. Your parents were back.

Jungkook nudged your nose with his.

"Watch your back, little angel. I always know where you are."

With that, he pushed himself up and got off the couch, adjusting his sweats. He didn't spare you a glance, leaving you to scramble and try to gather yourself as the keys jingled on the other side of the door, shaky fingers trying to reach the remote to turn off the tv.

Jungkook had a problem of his own to solve for the night. He needed a long, cold shower.

And then just a little more patience. Patience made all the difference in art.

💌 taglist: @wonyuknow @baalsgurl1913 @imnotlauriane @bucketofhiros @osakis-gf @silv3rswirls

#don't ask bc i don't know #jungkook x reader #yandere bts #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts smut

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

Context: @bengiyo made a hypothetical queer cinema syllabus for a hypothetical baby gay to watch. I said "fuck it I'll do it," and he said "dear god, there are so many movies on here, pick three from each section" and I said "absolutely not, I shall watch them all. And here i am I think over a year later and only four sections in. Anyway I am working my way through Unit 4: Heartbreak Alley right now which is:

Bent (1997), Strange Fruit (2004),Boys Don’t Cry (1999), Brokeback Mountain (2005), Parting Glances (1986),Philadelphia (1993), The Living End (1992), Holding the Man (2015), Jeffrey (1995), and Boys on the Side (1995).

Today I will be talking about

Jeffrey (1995) dir. Christopher Ashley

[Run Time: 1:33, Available: Tubi, Google TV; Language: English]

Summary: A poignant romantic comedy about the quest for love and intimacy in the age of AIDS. A story of a thirtyish gay actor/waiter who decides to become celibate...the risk of AIDS has taken all the joy from sex.

Cast: 

Steven Weber as Jeffrey, main character

Michael T Weiss as Steve Howard, love interest

Patrick Steward as Sterling. Jeffrey’s friend

Bryan Batt as Darius, Sterling’s boyfriend

Content warning: this film very much has some costuming choices and lines that do not age well

__

I love seeing how movies handle matters of grief, and all the little ways the world continues to turn even as you feel like your life has tilted on an axis. I feel like Jeffery does a really great job of showing this kind of push and pull. It is simultaneously absurdity, the comedy, the pain, it’s all there, and it’s real, and I think it balanced it well without ever tipping over the edge in to something so sad as to move me to tears. Which, I think is the point because this is very much listed as a romantic comedy and I am inclined to agree, at least with the comedy part because this film was very funny. 

And it was fun. 

It was so much fun to watch! 

This film is based off of a play and thus the structure of the film is wonky, it’s disjointed, motifs in some ways, it breaks fourth walls left and right, it spirals in to dance numbers and jeopardy style fantasy all the time, and you can tell that the people making this movie had a really really great time doing so. It was bright, it was vibrant, it was full of life. 

And coming to the end of this movie, it makes so much sense, the intentionality behind the ridiculousness of its scenes, the vibrancy of its sets, the colors and the characters. The intentionality behind the seriousness of it too. The fight between Steve and Jeffrey out front of Steve’s apartment, the conversation between Sterling and Jeffrey in the hospital after Darius died. This is a movie about living. Living despite. 

Jeffrey is terrified of HIV/AIDS. So terrified that he goes from fucking as many people as he can to abstaining from sex altogether. So terrified that he pushes away a man that he has hit it off really well with after finding out he’s HIV positive. So terrified that he is going to sublet his apartment and run away back to Wisconsin to hide from it all. Jeffrey is afraid of death, he is afraid of sickness, he is afraid. So much of this unit has been about what we lost to AIDS. The people we lost, the loves we lost, the memories we lost. And while losing loved ones is a part of this film as well, that is not its primary message. Jeffrey focuses on the life that Jeffery lost, the love, the memories he never made because of fear. He hurt Steve time and time again, he didn’t (or wasn’t going to) march in Pride, he yearned desperately for sex but would not engage in it in any form because he was scared of getting AIDS, and he was scared of losing people to it too. 

I feel like “it is better to have loved and lost than to never to have loved at all” is an appropriate quote when it comes to the thesis of this film. Though I might tweak it to something more like… “it is better to live with loss than to never live at all.” 

gif by @ballumville

This film is listed as a comedy, and something that I personally find absolutely crucial to good comedy is sincerity and seriousness. I do not want comedies to be funny all the way through, I much prefer when a comedy reminds you that it knows the world we live in and finds laughter in it anyway. Because that feels so much truer to life. Jeffry, Darius, and Sterling are at yet another memorial, and they are cruising, and it is not that they aren’t sad to lose another person, but there are just so many men there. Jeffrey, Darius, and Sterling are at yet another memorial and Darius and Sterling insult the choice in music, start to talk about Darius’ inevitable death and Jeffrey doesn’t want to hear it. Jeffrey, Darius, and Sterling are at yet another memorial and Darius and Sterling adorn fancy grieving hats they have stolen from the coatroom to lighten the prayer. 

Grief is learning someone you love has died, and the timer for the oven going off because your lunch is ready. Grief is learning someone died while you are wearing a sweater with In Dog Years I’m Dead printed on it. Grief is learning someone died, and still going to the dinner you planned to have with a friend. Death is terrible and absurd, and lives are changed in an instant, and you can’t stop your roommate from making a joking “everyone still alive?” comment when everyone is very much not. Death is terrible and absurd, and like Jeffrey you go to the hospital to visit a friend, and you have a conversation with them for a full five minutes before he tells you his partner died half an hour ago. Death is terrible and absurd and you are able to cry but the ghost of your friend comes to visit in his CATS costume and tells you everything will be fine.

Jeffrey is scared to have sex, he is scared to acquire HIV, he is scared to lose those he loves to the disease. And he strains against the confines he’s put himself in, all these old parts of himself slipping hands through the bars of their cage. But Jeffrey has trapped himself in a hell of his own design and he’s slapped the label AIDS overtop of it and resigned himself to a boring, meaningless existence away from his life and his friends and all the potential lovers he might find because of his fear. 

This film was funny, it gave you as many reprieves as it could, it held resolute in its sincerity when it needed to, and eased up on the gas before things could go to far. It was funny, it was whimsical, I had a lovely time seeing all the little ways they took a stage play and adapted it for the big screen. I lost my mind at how many truly phenomenal, A-list actors were in this film, most in small guest roles. I’m talking: Sigourney Weaver, Kathy Najimy, Nathan Lane, Christine Baranski, and quite a few more. 

I had a great time watching this film, I loved it alot. Mother Teresa smoking a cigarette and playing piano and all. 

Favorite Moment 

God there were so many good ones. I think my favorite moment is actually the scene during Pride with the newscaster, all these gays crowding around him as he tries to give his report. Getting interrupted by Steve and Sean and Sterling and Darius, the narrative to get straight to the point of Jeffrey’s character in that moment by having the reporter ask Jeffrey what he planned to do during Gay Pride and to have him answer “I’m running” (fucking brilliant), and then of course the moment to end all moments. Sterling telling the newscaster that Angelique was going to get her penis removed after Pride, and seeing her mother proudly exclaim “it’s coming right off!” 

It was such a tight and effective way to show the dynamics of the main characters, how much life and excitement Darius had in being on the news in that moment, the way that Jeffrey was standing apart from everyone else, that he was described as someone who ‘could be anyone’, that he was so visibly outside of the celebrations.

Favorite Quote

“Of course life sucks. It always will. So why not make the most of it? How DARE you not lunge for any shred of happiness?"

A strong contender for my favorite scene of the film, I really loved the push and pull of the scenes with the clergyman. Nathan Lane is a brilliant performer, as is Steven Weber and it is really fun watching moments where you stick two talented people in a room together and let them just cook with gas. I have probably said it too many times at this point that there is a very smart balance between comedy and drama in this film, and the entire scene between these two is one of the clearest examples of that. This line is said to Jeffrey by the Catholic priest as they leave the confessional where the priest has just been talking about how God is in musicals. And Jeffrey is just “what about”ing his way to the endless, miserable spiral of a man who cannot see the joy that rests just beyond his fear. 

I love this line because as someone who has had a non-zero number of lows in their life, I have gotten through those periods of fear, of doubt, of misery by reaching for the smallest joys. In some of my worst bouts of stress, depression, whatever I kept a journal where I forced myself for months, just before bed to write three things I was grateful for that I had experienced that day. So that I might end my day on a positive, and so that I might look back when I needed to to see that no day is wholly good or wholly bad. 

So I appreciate seeing characters get beat over the head with something preachy like that, like grabbing for scraps of happiness wherever they are. 

Score 

9/10 

There were so many great moments, there were so many beautiful lines. It was expertly balanced, and I will never look at balloons the same way again.

#bengiyo queer cinema syllabus #queer cinema syllabus #one more film to go in this section and then it is on to lesbians! #jeffrey #jeffrey (1995)

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Vox being protective of Retro in your stuff is kinda adorable. Plus the whole not wanting them to remember his protective actions or his stumbling works is too.

Poor Retro most likely cant remember all the flustered stumbling over words Vox did when they flirted with him. Plus he must have needed a lot of proposing do overs

Anyway wanted to say you think Retro would ever take Vox to a Hell's version of an aquarium? He's got those sharks after all, I completely think the Goofy TV man we saw watching the final battle would be a goof ball at the aquarium and Retro would surely enjoy seeing that I think.

Thanks for reading my ramblings, hope it gave an idea or two!

The gentle hum of excitement filled the air as Vox and I stepped into the aquarium, the vibrant colors and soothing sounds of the underwater world enveloping us in a sense of wonder and awe. Vox's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he took in the sights, his excitement infectious.

"Look at that!" Vox exclaimed, pointing eagerly at a tank filled with colorful tropical fish darting to and fro. "Aren't they magnificent?"

I nodded, unable to suppress a smile at his childlike enthusiasm. "They're beautiful," I agreed, my gaze drawn to the shimmering scales and graceful movements of the fish.

It was when we reached the shark exhibit that Vox's excitement reached its peak. His eyes practically lit up with delight as he pressed his face against the glass, watching the sleek predators glide effortlessly through the water.

"Sharks!" Vox exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "Did you know that they're one of the oldest species on Earth? And look at those teeth! Absolutely fascinating."

“They’re adorable!” I said, admiring them right alongside him.

“Did you know that sharks have been around for more than 400 million years?” He asked, pulling me over to the tank. “That makes them older than dinosaurs!”

“What? No way,” I said with a smile. “You can’t expect me to believe they survived the same apocalypse that wiped out the dinosaurs.”

“Oh, but they did! And, there are over 400 species of sharks, ranging from the tiny dwarf lanternshark to the massive whale shark,” he said with a grin. He was explaining it all so animatedly, with so much enthusiasm I couldn’t help but be intrigued. “As you probably know, sharks have several rows of teeth, and they can lose up to 30,000 teeth in their lifetime.”

“No! No, no, that one has to be a lie,” I said, shaking my head. He laughed and pointed to an infographic that proved me wrong. “What?! Where does it all go????”

“The ocean floor, where’s it turns to sediment, is eroded into sand over time, or fossilized,” Vox said matter of factly. “Oh! And they aren’t even bloodthirsty monsters, either.”

“Well I knew that part,” I said. I looked at the aquarium where a hammerhead seemed to be swimming around. “They’re adorable, they don’t mean any harm. Most shark attacks are purely accidental.”

“Exactly! Some species of sharks, like the great white shark, can detect a single drop of blood in an Olympic-sized swimming pool, but they’re not interested in humans,” he explained. He walked up to the glass and looked at the sharks with me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me up against him. “Contrary to popular belief, not all sharks are apex predators; some species feed on plankton and small fish. Sharks have an incredible sense of smell, enabling them to detect prey from miles away, which is why they’re such great hunters! If they smell human blood they won’t pursue it, they have better things to do. Fish taste better, and honestly, I can’t blame them.”

“Despite their fearsome reputation, sharks are more threatened by humans than humans are by them, primarily due to overfishing and habitat destruction,” I said, reading off another sign. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“I know! They’re just the most amazing little things, aren’t they?” He asked, the same big grin on his face. “Did you know that some species of sharks, like the Greenland shark, have incredibly long lifespans, with some individuals living over 400 years?”

I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, finding myself caught up in his excitement. Together, we spent hours exploring the various exhibits, marveling at the diversity and beauty of the ocean's inhabitants.

“Oh my god!” I squealed and dragged him away from some coconut crabs to look at sea bunnies. “I love them!”

“Ah, I see I’m not the only one with an interest in marine life,” he said with a small laugh. He looked through the glass at the little guys, less excited than he was about sharks, but curious nonetheless. “So, what makes these little guys so interesting?”

“Sea bunnies are a type of sea slug found in the waters of the Indo-Pacific region. They are known for their cute appearance, with fluffy ‘bunny ears’ and a soft, rounded body, as well as vinbrant colours and intricate patterns,” I explained, pointing to a few. “This one is more common, see its white with little black spots? These are the ones people know best.”

“Oh! They look kind of like you,” Vox said with a smile. He looked between my ‘bunny ears’ and the ones the sea bunny had. “Actually, you guys look a lot alike…”

“That’s because I’m a sea bunny demon,” I said with a laugh. I stood right beside the sea bunny in the tank so he could make the comparison. “You know, like how you’re a TV demon and Val is a Moth Demon. Alastors a deer demon, Velvette is a doll demon. I’m a sea bunny!”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought… wow, okay, that makes a lot of sense,” he said with a nod. “So are those actual ears? How does that work?”

“The ‘bunny ears’ are actually sensory organs called rhinophores, which they use to detect chemicals in the water,” I said with a shrug. I reached up and touched my own for a moment. “It’s a trait we share. Not particularly useful since there’s not an ocean in this ring of Hell.”

“Sea bunnies feed on algae, using their radula (a tongue-like organ covered in tiny teeth) to scrape it off rocks and other surfaces,” Vox said, squinting at a sign as he read it off. He turned to me, looking bewildered. “Do you… do you have that?”

“Nope! I don’t have a need for it,” I said with a grin. I dragged him to a different tank with more colorful sea bunnies. “Anyway! Despite their adorable appearance, sea bunnies are toxic. They absorb toxins from the algae they eat and store them in their bodies as a defense against predators,” I said, matter of factly. “It’s super cool! They’re, like, immune to everything! The toxins can be released into the water if a sea bunny is threatened, making them unpalatable or even harmful to predators.”

“Huh,” he said, thinking about it for a moment. “I never made the connection before. Does that mean you’re poisonous?”

“Sometimes, maybe,” I said with a shrug. I paused for a moment and thought about it. “I… actually don’t know. Huh.”

“Well then.”

“Holy shit! Is that a sting ray?” I asked, running over to another tank, immediately distracted again. “I fucking love stingrays!”

Vox followed along with a smile. Despite how he would rather be with the sharks, still talking about them, he was seemingly content looked at the other exhibits with me. As we made our way through the aquarium, Vox's enthusiasm never waned, his childlike wonder infectious. I found myself grinning and laughing right along with him, every step of the way.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #thanks anon!

[polisena-art]

what would you say is the ideal carnaval for each of the caballeros? What's their favorite things about the holiday?

Kinda of a late answer for this but that's on you for expecting me to be answering asks on tumblr during Carnaval. I think Donald would be elated on the simple premise of a whole week off of work. I think he would first revel on sleeping in and, later in the day, going out with friends. Maybe falling in line with the relaxation route, at least the most permitted for Donald Duck, he'd take the kids to the beach and, during the days of parade, watch them on TV. Sure he would plan for slow days, but you just now something would happen to throw it off the rails. Panchito I think, whether he is in México or Brazil, his favorite part when it comes to Carnaval are the street parties. Him being a very lively guy with such fiery disposition, he loves to feel the crowd's energy and also being a part of it. All the colors are so vibrant and everyone is having so much fun, dancing, jumping and singing that Panchito would go all out as well. Tbh I would not be surprised if he ended the day on top of a stage or sound truck. José is a bit trickier of an answer because, what doesn't he like about Carnaval? I feel like he makes a point of enjoying it to the max since it's one of the events Brazilians, and specially cariocas, are super proud of and, him as a very stereotypical symbol, embraces with his whole being. I mean, it makes sense that the moment Reveillon is past Zé is already eager for this next big party in the city. That said, Zé would super enjoy the Pre-Carnaval, the street parties that happen before Carnaval has even officially arrived, and then Carnaval itself and pretty much everything it entails. In the end, I imagine the ideal Carnaval for José is one he gets to spend with his friends, and from then on they start their fun. Getting and assembling their own costumes, participating in street parties, getting some action during the street parties, going to friend's parties, drinking way too much at said parties. Later going to Samba School rehearsals, eating all the Feijoada he can get at said rehearsals, organizing his OWN Samba School rehearsals and parading with the Unidos da Vila Xurupita wherever he can, playing on his school's band, watching the big Samba Schools parade in the Avenue, live or on TV. Start another day sleeping in and then staying out all night, waking up on Ash Wednesday completely disoriented with no idea how he ended up home and finally catching the final results of which School was the big winner of that year's Carnaval.

#ask #anonymous #the three caballeros #text post

[lambtail-tales]

Shelter

THIS BLOG IS 18+! !!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Levi kissers come get y'all juice. I had intended this to be like a little scenario post for all the brothers helping MC who is afraid of thunderstorms, but my braincell said no, absolutely not, so you guys get a whole drabble instead! Leviathan x GN!reader (Obey Me!)

Warning for some descriptions of severe anxiety, MC has a panic attack. Wordcount: 1983

Paragraphs: 33

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉

Leviathan had invited you up to his room to play a new game with him. He was especially excited about this one; he had been talking about it for the last 3 days! When the Akuzon package came in the mail for him, he grabbed it and texted you to come over right away. You had been looking forward to spending this time with Levi, so you ran down the hallway quickly and knocked on his door. He told you to come in, and you walked in to see him peeling the plastic wrap off of the game box. He eagerly held it up to show you the cover. You had asked him one question but he had gone off on one of his long-winded tangents (not that you minded) as he got down onto the floor and began setting the game up, looking for the box of whatever he was last playing so he could swap the discs in the console. You made a little place for yourself on the floor, fidgeting with the hem of your top while you watched him fumble around in front of the TV.

Finally, he pushed the power button and sat back with the controller in his hand. “Okay, time to start gaming!” He looked over at you, smiling excitedly. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, and the screen began lighting up with the game’s title screen. The graphics were colorful, and you knew Levi would have something to say about that. You glanced over at him as words began tumbling out of his mouth when all of a sudden, the vibrant screen wavered, and the upbeat music stopped.

Levi was puzzled. “Huh? What’s going—” His thought was interrupted as all of the lights in the room flickered, and suddenly you felt a sharp pang of fear. “Ahhh, c’mon!” He complained as the room finally went dark.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you found yourself bringing your knees up to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut; you were tense, and still. You were scared, and you never wanted any of them to know that, but if anyone had to find out, you were glad it was Levi.

You were taking little breaths to calm yourself, hoping that this was the worst it was going to get. Levi started talking again, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Well, I guess we’ll have to wait until later…” Levi fiddled with his D.D.D., trying to get the flashlight on. When you didn’t respond, he got worried. Surely, he thought, you weren’t that disappointed? He called your name softly, but it was drowned out by a loud crack of thunder, and he saw your whole body jolt. It left him perplexed—he wasn’t sure what to think of that.

He called out to you once more, but you hadn’t seemed to notice. You trembled, and he heard what he immediately recognized as sniffles and little hiccups, and his pout became a deep frown. If he was being honest, he would think anyone else was pathetic, but not you. You, who he couldn’t recall crying for anything; who could look Lucifer in the eye without so much as flinching. After all he had seen you go through, this was the thing that made you shrink into yourself. This was the thing that scared you.

Leviathan bit his lip and glanced around, seeing shadows cast around the room thanks to the flashlight. He was panicking—what do you do for a scared human? He begged himself to think harder and faster. As someone who felt pretty at home during storms, he couldn’t come up with a single thing. Thunder continued to rumble in the distance, and you continued to shake, with your knees up to your chest and your head down.

”Levi…?” Your voice was so small. It tugged at his heart in a way he had never experienced before—a way that was almost physically painful.

His body moved on its own. “Y-yeah…” He muttered. “Yeah I…I’m here,” He took a few steps towards you. “a-and everything’s okay!” He blurted. “Everything’s okay…” He said again, softer this time, worried the sudden outburst might put you more on edge. He swallowed hard, hoping to take some nerves with it, but instead it took his words: what do you need?

You dared a peek, noticing a soft glow illuminating the walls of the room, and in the dim light cast by the D.D.D. at his side, he could see your eyes, wet with more tears. A few strands of hair were stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “Levi,” you whimpered, louder than the last time. “Levi, I—” The thunder roared again, and you yelped, hiding your face again. Your heart had leapt into your throat. It was too much. This storm was bad. It was so bad. It was more violent than any storm you had ever experienced. You had no idea what to do; the things you usually did to calm yourself weren’t working. Your breathing had sped up as fear gripped at your throat, and you couldn’t slow it down. Your mind whirled—panic from the storm, panic from your inability to stop panicking, and panic from the embarrassment that you were a blubbering mess on Levi’s bedroom floor. Though your vision was blurry, the faint light from the D.D.D. had at least given you a vague idea of what was around you, but that was now starting to grow dark as your breathing became hyperventilating, and your chest tightened around your heart. It hurt, and you were so, so scared. Maybe you should ask Levi to go get someone? Satan might know what to do, or even Lucifer. But the anxiety was debilitating. You couldn’t make a sound anymore, except for your ragged breathing.

Leviathan couldn’t bear it. He hated this so much. He hated it, but what could he do? He could go get his brothers, but if one of them came, they all would, and that was probably not what you needed. Would any of them even know what to do? He didn’t even know what to do. He felt like a failure as a demon—your demon. He began spiraling, wondering why you bothered with him. He was an otaku, he didn’t know anything about this stuff. Anime and games wouldn’t help him. He pushed his hair up away from his face, grunting softly, and he felt the brief sting of tears in the corners of his eyes.

As he looked around again for something—anything that might give him an idea—he saw your hand reaching out to him. “Levi, please—” You squeaked as the thunder continued to echo across the Devildom. Your hand retracted back, and you covered your ears.

Something in Levi pushed him to move, to do something, and he found himself grabbing up his blanket from his bathtub, closing the gap between you two. He wasn’t sure why he stood there feeling sorry for himself, and surely he might beat himself up for that later, but right now, you needed him. He knew you did. This should have been so simple, he scolded himself.

Leviathan had no idea what he was doing, but at least it was something. He carefully draped his blanket over your back, and wrapped it around you before taking a place next to you on the floor, setting his D.D.D. aside so the light could fill more of the room up for you. “Hey,” He spoke to you softly, and his hands trembled as he reached out to take yours. “hey, i-it’s okay…” He murmured. “It’s okay I…I’m here.” Though surely, he might be the last person you wanted there. “It’ll be over soon, I-I promise!” He smiled, though it was strained, and he wasn’t hiding that well. “I’ll stay right here, and…I’ll wait with you.” He then glanced at his hands, which still carefully held your wrists. “S-sorry!” He pulled his hands back. “Sorry, I’m sure you—”

Then, there was pressure, and there was warmth, and he had to catch himself on his palms to keep from getting pushed onto the floor. You dove right into his arms, burying your face into his shoulder, and it took him more than a few seconds to understand what had happened. “H-hey, are you sure you—”

”Can I just stay like this?” His pulse quickened and the scent of your shampoo made him dizzy. “Please?” You whispered.

Levi swallowed, breathing out of his nose to calm his nerves, though it didn’t work too well. “Sure you can…” He shifted his body to uncross his legs, and you were leaning forward on your knees, unmoving. “Come here.” He coaxed, though he found himself wrapping his arms around you anyways, pulling you into him so you sat between his legs, cradled up against him. His favorite shirt was wet, and sticking to his shoulder, but he found that he didn’t care that much. At least, not since it was you.

To you, this was protection. Safety. When Levi wrapped you up in his arms, you felt your heartbeat begin to slow. He let you nestle against him without complaint, and you could feel the thrumming of his heart against his chest; though it seemed nervous and erratic, it was soothing—comforting. It was quiet for a while, and in that time, Levi had placed a hand on your head, using the other to keep you close.

”Uh,” His voice cracked, breaking the silence. “D-does this…does this help?” He asked softly.

You settled deeper into his blanket, and it smelled like him—like his soap, a mild but clean scent, and a hint of the sea. “Mmhmm…” You tilted your face up, and the light cast shadows across his cheeks, and played with the fiery gold tones in his eyes. “Sorry to make you do this…” You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hands, drying any remnants of tears that clung to your lashes.

Levi shook his head. “I’m sorry I panicked…” He mumbled. “That was stupid of me.” He looked away, and the feeling of humiliation made his cheeks turn pink. “I didn’t know you’d be so scared.”

You laughed through your nose, and he braced himself for a joke at his expense. “Well, how were you supposed to? I never told anyone,” You said pointedly. “never wanted to…” You muttered. Levi hummed in response. “But, can I be honest?” You closed your eyes and hid your face in his chest once more.

”Uh, s-sure…?” Levi was still expecting some sort of jab, but it never came. Rather, there was something else behind your words—something sweet, and shy.

”I’m glad that I’m with you…” You gripped a fistful of shirt as you forced the words out of your mouth. You trusted Leviathan. You really did, and times like this were exactly why. “If it had to be anyone, I’m happy it was you.” You were sure the warmth you felt in your face was not because of the blanket.

As cute as it was that you seemed to insist on playing tough for everyone, Levi was more taken aback by the softness in your words. “R-really? Me…?” Surely you just didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

”Really, you.” there was some teasing in your tone, and Levi was happy to hear that you were coming back to your usual self. “I trust you, Levi, and I—”

The thunder cracked again. You jumped, and Levi reflexively tightened his hold on you.

When the sky had quieted again, he let out a sigh, and his body relaxed. “I’m okay,” You promised. “it’s not so bad with you here.”

You felt the offbeat rhythm of his heartbeat once again, and it made you smile. You closed your eyes, and just listened. Your fear had melted away, and you felt warm and comfortable. His fingers played with your hair absentmindedly, and you found yourself drifting, despite the howling winds and the thunder rolling in the distance.

Leviathan was protection. He was safety, and he was comfort.

Leviathan was shelter.

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #obey me #obey me fanfic #I'm not a levi kisser personally but this was nice to do

[daffodilsonaprettystring]

One thing I’m obsessed with about the Red White and Royal Blue movie (what we’ve seen so far I mean) is how VIBRANT the colors are. Like reading that book always gives me such bright color vibes and like saturated shades and this movie has captured that to a T. Color scheme plays a big role in TV for me in how I associate a movie/tv show with things, like Twilight being really moody colored or Shadowhunters being mostly dark colors. RWRB being all the really saturated shades of red and brown and gold and all that jazz is my favorite thing rn I think

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue movie #firstprince