#//I felt like being sweet :)

[t0bey]

“Reunion at Dawn”

happy 5th anniversary, three houses!!!

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[semisolidmind]

Random person getting mulled to death by Dogday: GET YO FUCKN DOG BITCH

Y/n: He don’t bite.

Random person bleeding out: YES HE DO-

i mean, if said random person hadn't gotten so close to his house, the dog wouldn't be mauling them, sooooo...

and as an aside; i imagine y/n doesn't know that dogday will occasionally attack people in the woods surrounding their home when they aren't there. y/n knows him to be against violence unless it's necessary (unlike their time in the factory, where he didn't have a choice), and the closest town doesn't really deliver newspapers out in the woods. so unless they pay attention to gossip when they go to work, there's no way for y/n to figure out that the supposed "monster" in the woods mauling people is their friend and housemate. there are cougars out there, it's probably just one of those.

and they know that dogday likes to hunt deer occasionally (and he sometimes eats them all by himself), so they don't suspect anything when he comes home covered in blood. he's just a little messy, that's all. they clean him off and welcome him back in, none the wiser.

[lesbicosmos]

something about charles's flirting with crystal compared to the 'platonic best mate' things he says to edwin

"we've met psychics before, but none as fit as you"

"it would be a shame if dandelions exploded out of your face. 'cause you know what? i think your face is pretty mint"

vs

"sorry, no version of this where i didn't come get you"

"you are the most important person in the world to me"

"there's no one else, no one else, that i would go to hell for"

[trekfacility]

:,,,,,,,,,)

[lunarharp]

uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier

[flowercrowngods]

in which steve is sick, eddie is in love, and floor time is being had

Eddie is in the kitchen when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him. The smile is on his face before he even turns around to catch a glimpse of Steve, gloriously disheveled from all that sleep he’s been catching up on. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s big, fuzzy sweaters that Steve always hogs when he’s sick — which, thankfully, isn’t all that often —, a thick pair of sweats and mismatched socks.

Sickness is the time to wear mismatched socks without judgment, Edwin Munswin, Steve had huffed the first time Eddie saw him with a runny nose and ridiculous socks that definitely didn’t belong together. It had been the first time he admitted to himself that he was absolutely gone for Steve Runny Nose Harrington.

And so it doesn’t come as a surprise to him that his heart stumbles in his chest and the smile on his lips widens. Steve might hate being sick, but Eddie can’t really help but love him even more when he gets like this. When Steve allows himself to be a little weak and for Eddie to take care of him.

“Hi, sunshine,” Eddie says, turning down the heat on the stove to go over to his Stevie, wrapping his arms around the blanket Steve still has around his shoulders. “Sleep well?”

“Mmh.” It’s nothing more than a raspy grunt, a pathetic little noise as Steve cuddles further into Eddie, seeking out his warmth and comfort so freely that Eddie presses a kiss to his slightly sweaty forehead. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here,” he promises, running a hand up and down Steve’s back. “Just made you tea while the soup is warming up. Because you’re gonna have to eat.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, sounding solemn as he does, and Eddie wants to laugh. Gods, he’s so in love, it’s disgusting. Ridiculous. Absolutely laughable. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” A whisper, another promise, another kiss. He unwinds his arms and looks back at the giant pot of soup he made yesterday. “Do you wanna go back to bed or stay here?”

“Here,” Steve sighs and promptly sinks down the counter until he’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Eddie with those beautiful brown eyes, so big and and full of love that Eddie can’t resist ruffling his hair, which earns him a little giggle from Steve.

Oh, right, he’s had the good stuff prescribed from the doctor. This is going to be fun in a few hours.

“You ridiculous man,” Eddie murmurs, trailing his hand from the crown of Steve’s head down across his cheek all the way to his chin in a gentle caress.

“Go back to your soup, you most ridiculous of men,” Steve says in retaliation, but he reaches for his hand to hold as Eddie returns to the stove.

“Technically it’s your soup.”

“That’s what I said.” Eddie looks down to see the most adorable of frowns on Steve’s head, and his heart explodes a little in his chest.

He snorts and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Sure is, baby.”

“See? I’m smart sometimes.”

“No argument from me there,” Eddie says, and he means it.

A hum comes from Steve and then he leans his head against Eddie’s leg. “You’re so nice to me, Eds. I like that you’re nice to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then it’s quiet, and the weight of Steve against his leg becomes heavier by the second to the point where Eddie is pretty sure Steve’s fallen asleep again. He doesn’t dare to move, but dear God he wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to scream at the world how much he loves this ridiculous, adorable, possibly delirious and high on cold medication man who is wrapped in his blanket on their kitchen floor.

“Stevie,” he whispers at last, the soup hot, the tea just cool enough, and cards his hand through Steve’s hair to wake him. “Sunshine, wake up, I have soup for you.”

“Soup?”

“Soup.”

“But I love soup.”

“Then I have great news for you,” Eddie laughs and tilts Steve’s head up so he’ll meet his eyes. “It’s plenty, it’s warm, and you can have some. It’s right here.”

“You made me soup?”

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie chuckles, his heart tearing itself apart at the way Stevie looks up at him with such wonder and awe and love. “I made you so much soup. All for you.”

Steve nods, thinks for a moment and then looks up at Eddie again. “Can we share?”

“You wanna share your soup with me?” Eddie says, crouching down so he’s on eye level with Steve and can brush a kiss to his forehead again.

Steve nods again and reaches for him, clinging to Eddie’s sweater — well, it’s Steve’s technically. “Wanna share everything with you.“

“Even your blanket?”

Steve smiles and nods again, lifting one arm to invite Eddie in, which earns him a laugh. “Alright, let me just…”

He grabs two bowls of soup, Steve’s large mug of tea, two spoons and two pillows from their chairs so they can eat the soup on the floor without uncomfortable heat in their laps.

Later, when soup is but a distant memory of half an hour ago, Steve lets himself fall to the side and slumps into Eddie, head nestled on his shoulder.

“Sleep time again?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Steve slurs, definitely already on his way to half asleep. “Just. Just love you.”

Eddie hums and leans into Steve in return, warm underneath their blanket, surprisingly comfortable on the floor, backs against the counter. “Just love you, too, sunshine.”

And if Eddie closes his eyes, too, lulled into a sleepy state of comfort and warmth, then that’s just one more thing that happens with a sick Steve around.

In sickness and in health, he thinks with that same smile on his lips.

for @seidenbros, i besmooch your forehead with this 🌷🤍

[godlypancake]

[sysig]

Growing closer than expected (Patreon)

[angelmush]

the other day i walked around the golden lake w my love and the sun was setting hot and orange and we watched a brown duck preening through the weeds, ducking her head under the dark water. the cool lake swallowed up my tired feet to the ankles and we counted the dog walkers with their curly panting doodles and their handsome german shepherds and their whip smart little terriers and we admired the careful construction of a sand castle whose moat held determinedly against the lapping of the waves. we could feel in our chests the persistent thunderous thumping of celebratory music at the finish line of the lakeside 5k, welcoming each gasping runner across its bounds. and i felt like crying. i felt like curling into myself and crying. we walked through the swamp of the bird sanctuary afterwards and listened to the woods sing and croak and groan and then we went and got ube and yuzu gelato and devoured it suntired and sweating on the couch in our living room. and i was so overcome w a deep and true unshakeable happiness and a sort of confused grief that i wanted to sob and sob and sob.

[fanficlerontheroof]

[imthursdaysyme]

It’ll pass series 1/5: ronance

[cipheramnesia]

I mean saying the movie supported men's rights kind of ignores that what the kens did was painted as bad. Like that was very much the message of the film

That was the text of the film but not the message.

I'm not going to apply greater nuanced analysis to a movie that had all coherent structure papered over in producer notes. But for a movie that spends a lot of time pointing out situations that are unfair, not equal, or "bad" it didn't have anything to say about why or what might actually resolve the inequality.

Not saying it needs to author the revolution or anything, just it kinda stopped at "patriarchy bad because men rule all and are dumb boys who are gross" and I think that's boring? It's like hey, inequality sure is bad! And it seems like weird and wrong the girl empowerment doll for diverse women is exclusively developed by old white men! Followed by crickets chirping.

I was kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop, like yes, this is a pretty fun satirical look at gender and... and..? And that's it. Barbie world goes back to hierarchical control in a perfect utopia. The real world is unaffected because all those executives are just silly guys who are trying their best. Gloria gets to be a good mom, and hands her ideas over to the corporation. The new line of Barbies are Barbies that just don't want anything at all. And Margot Barbie just leaves.

Which is unfortunate because it starts out with a great deal of very interesting ideas, but ends up without anything much to say at all. It uses all the right words but mostly just kinda ascribes broad universal meaning and morality rather than considering any of it could have some underlying complexity.

We all know feminism can't hold hands with capitalism, but the Barbie movie wants the cache of the feminist movement beholden to the bottom line of Mattel's investors. And as a fun movie about children's dolls it's fine, but it's also selling itself as a feminist film, which it very much is not.

[armando-triplepapito]

Dang crazy how Roberto left part of his acciones to Betty! (not 100% sure but it’s pretty obvious)

Ngl if I were Marcela I’d be pissed but mostly betrayed especially since she viewed him as a second father. In her defense it would’ve been normal to expect she’d get some of Roberto’s share. He knew how much Marcela loved Ecomoda. Tho it’s too early to assume anything.

What I’m guessing is that Doña Margarita died before Roberto so who knows maybe she gave Marcela some of her shares and Marcela then felt entitled to Roberto’s as well? Or maybe Roberto did leave something for Marcela which he thought would’ve been more valuable than his acciones but Marcela didn’t viewed it as such?🤔 idk but I can already sense Marcela is going to blame Betty for not inheriting anything…

Okay prediction time!:

I think Marcela’s overall goal was to win the presidency for her son (or who ever that guy is, he’s definitely a Valencia).

I’m assuming Betty was president before she left for two years. Something happened which Marcela was able to ask for Betty’s head.

While voting for the presidency she probably lost due to majority rule and Armando took over as president. She was fine with it cause she probably knew he wasn’t going to last long. With Betty out of the picture and with Roberto’s death she was certain her son will take the presidency because she assumed she will inherit some of Roberto’s acciones. She probably wouldn’t have won majority vote but she could’ve won cause her vote would’ve had more weight with Roberto’s acciones.

Obviously Betty got the acciones and became president again and which ruined Marcela’s plan…

Obviously Marcela’s pissed and will now go above and beyond for her son to become president.

And that’s where another prediction come in!

What if she convinces her son to seduce Camila?👀 it’s history repeating itself! Camilla will go through what Betty did! A man seducing her for Ecomoda…

^but yea idk about this prediction tho💀 i can already guess that Hugo’s assistant (im assuming) will try to seduce Camila. But I don’t think it’s for Ecomoda but for another sick intention. That will be the difference between Marcela’s kid and Hugo’s assistant.

Also I wouldn’t be surprised if Marcela’s kid actually falls in love with Camila (again history repeating itself) and that’s how Marcela will get her redemption. Having to watch her son fall in love with a Mendoza just like her , watching them end up together just how she wished for herself. She will then understand that the hate she carried is a waste and will finally get along with Betty finally restoring the strong bond between the Mendoza & Valencia’s.

So yea that’s what I’m expecting as subplots for this sequel…

[headfullof-ideas]

Oh, the uncertainty that comes with being faced with such baffling yet unwavering unconditional love. Especially from a creature that has been given nothing less than three hundred years of reasons as to why she shouldn’t even trust you at all. Yet she does. At the end of the day, despite whatever fights you got into with each other, despite how bad of a mood you were in, despite whatever happened earlier that day, she is still there at the end of it

[kitorin]

I WANNA GET HIS NUMBER