#HE LITERALLY IS NOT DOING ANYTHING OUTSIDE OF THAT I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH!!!!

[prismaticutie]

U ever have an assignment so bad ur tempted 2 go on ratemyprofessor n doxx your teacher

[actual-changeling]

we do not talk enough about the moment right before crowley puts his sunglasses back on. the "nothing lasts forever" is devastating and if you're like me your eyes were so full of tears you couldn't see the screen the first time you watched it (just like crowley, look at us all twinning in sadness!).

there is a shift that happens in his eyes and i think it is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

we begin with crowley averting his gaze from aziraphale's face and staring off into the distance instead, and you can see his spirit break. that crowley just lost the one thing in the world he cannot live without and we can see it written across his face like a neon sign.

then, as you'd expect, he gives into the need to cover up his pain, to try and make himself less vulnerable, and even before he lifts his glasses he looks down so aziraphale can no longer see his eyes.

now, the next part is what would not let me out of its grasp all day. we know it happens because of his demeanour afterwards and up until the kiss, but you can actually watch as crowley makes himself numb to the world.

i am intimately familiar with dissociation as a trauma and stress response, and while you can never fully control it, you do eventually find the switch in your mind that makes you snap back into the haze. crowley has had six thousand years to get really, really good at leaving reality behind when he needs and/or wants to.

that's exactly what he does.

he still looks sad, and yet there's just something distinctly distant in his eyes, the shift from openly heartbroken to "i don't want to feel any of this let me leave".

glasses? on

emotions? off

hotel? trivago

i have stared at those four frames more than any person probably should and i don't know if it's the light, if i am going insane, or if there is a single tear sliding out of his right (our left) eye. i'm probably insane and the light is a bitch so if anyone has some high resolution shots or anything that could answer that question without a doubt PLEASE do add it.

by now you are probably ready to threaten me with a knife in a dark alley but before you do that or drive your car off a cliff, let me tell you the best part:

aziraphale notices.

they might be communicating on two different frequencies but aziraphale knows crowley. he knows and loves him, and, most importantly, over the last few years he has gotten used to seeing crowley without his glasses. aziraphale could probably write a book on the expressions in his eyes alone and watches that shift happen and is devastated.

look.

he tries to make himself hope the same second, tries to convince himself crowley is putting on his glasses so they can leave together, but he knows.

aziraphale sees the light leave crowley's eyes, sees crowley leave, knowing that he is quite literally running away from him. you and me against the world, angel, but in that moment crowley firmly pushes him back to "the world" (or tries to, anyway).

the entire season we see crowley take off his glasses whenever he enters the bookshop to the point where he's running around without them on in broad daylight with jimbriel right there.

can you imagine how hurt and confused aziraphale must be?

because what crowley is telling him, if we really, really break it down, is that aziraphale is no longer a safe person for him. and repairing that trust is going to take time and work, no matter how much crowley loves him, how badly they love and need each other.

anyway to seal this off and really rub in the pain - how it started vs. how it ended. <3

oh one last thing: now crowley no longer has a single person he can be himself around, no one that knows him, no one he trusts. no one in whose presence he can take his glasses off.

and outside of the bentley and his own flat, he no longer has a place to do so either. the bookshop was theirs. with aziraphale gone, is it really a safe place anymore? is it somewhere he can just let himself be knowing he will be looked after and protected?

easy answer: no.

alright, off i go. see y'all on the next angst post or in the tags.

[lovequartz]

where our fingers meet.

✵ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x fiancee!reader

✵ genre: fluff!

✵ warnings: none

✵ word count: 701

✵ crush me in your arms give me a lovelier kiss, lover

✵ notes: yeah i am back with more of this couple <3 i literally cannot stop writing for them

the week before the wedding is stressful, and not for you but for your mother and sister. you are still trapped in somewhat of a daze, you can’t believe you’re getting married let alone who you’re getting married to. your sweet sweet wonwoo, you’re sure you must’ve dreamed him up for it is madness that a man so perfect exists. in thinking of your wonderful fiance you’re awash with a sense of longing that sits heavy in your chest. 

it’s been a little less than a week since you’ve seen him, due to all the planning madness your mother and sister have swept you up into. not to mention the fact that wonwoo had left town for a stretch to visit his parents and travel back with them so they could attend the ceremony. you wish you could’ve gone with him, to have a bit of privacy between the two of you before you were to become spouses. 

silas has been lovely as he usually is, but you suspect that he’s coming to understand that you won’t always be with him so he has been making sure to take up as much of your attention as he can. which is why he currently lays sprawled across your lap while he doodles on the edges of his math notebook, and the accompanying math textbook sits abandoned across the room near your bed. 

you run your fingers through his hair for a few passes, “i thought you promised your mother that you would have a page done by bedtime?” 

silas hums, you feel it against your thighs where his upper body is positioned, and he puts his pencil down and lays his head against his open notebook, “too sleepy,” he murmurs.

your hand moves from his hair to rub his back gently, it was just about his bedtime so the sleepiness was understandable. you leave him be and when you’re certain he’s asleep is when you tuck him into your futon, making sure the blanket covers him. gathering his things, you stack them neatly into a pile and set them near the door. 

as your nephew sleeps you busy yourself with getting ready for bed yourself, changing your day dress with your sleep gown, and running a comb through your hair. 

a few minutes into brushing you hear a faint knocking at your window, its seems too quiet to be actual knocking but doesn’t quite sound like the branches that sometimes scratch at it. you slowly make your way over, and try to peer out the spaces in the slats. after not really seeing anything, you carefully slide the window open just a crack and the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. 

“wonwoo?” you say in disbelief, staring wide eyed at your fiance that stands just outside. 

he gives you a shy smile, and rubs his hands together nervously, “sorry for the abrupt and unannounced visit.” 

you shake your head, still dizzy with disbelief. “what are you doing here?” 

“i wanted to,” he pauses as if embarrassed by his actions, and you notice how red his ears are, “see you.” 

your face heats up at his admission, and you stare silently at him for a few moments before telling him to stay put. assuring him that you would be right there.

you grab a shawl from your closet and throw it over your shoulders before quietly making your way out of your bedroom and out of the house. your slippers kick up loose rocks as you hurriedly round the corner to where your fiance waits. 

he smiles when he sees you, holding out a hand that you take as soon as you’re close enough. both your fingers weaving together seamlessly. 

“is everything okay?” you ask breathlessly, still a bit worried over this unannounced middle of the night appearance. 

his free hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and you melt as his thumb brushes across your skin. “everything is fine,” he replies, “i fear that a week without you is far too long for me to bear.” 

“wonwoo…” you mumbled, flustered over his words, “you could’ve called.”

he shakes his head with a grin, “and miss this lovely sight before me? never.”

notes: okay my lovelies thank you as always for reading and there will most likely be more of this couple from me! let me know what you thought <3

[rentenwins]

silly little excuses (newneighbour!leehan x reader)

masterlist link | next chapter

synopsis: the boys catch onto what's happening. with a ittle jab and detective skills, and nothing that the ever-so-helpful taesan would do anything about it...

content: banter banter and banter!!, the bnd members <3, mild cursing, a lot of dialogue tbh, descriptions of food eating, taesan is a schemer ong, taesan and sungho are a cheeky duo, a very clueless jaehyun, woonhak n riwoo mention!!

a/n: this one is goofy... calm before the storm trust me on this one pls. if you would like to be part of my taglist to get notifs on a new chapter, please send an ask in my inbox <3 my updates are not the most consistent apologies :( but thank you for sticking around nonetheless!

wc: 1448

taglist: @haechology @jenuinne @saintriots @badaspookie @yveol @yunextdoor @lailols @rawrbamgyu @amarecerasus @pandorahearts19 @luvvhaerin

chapter 3: i got a plan

“Bro, I’m being so serious.”

“Proof or it didn’t happen.”

“I LITERALLY CANNOT SO JUST TRUST ME ON THIS ONE.”

Jaehyun seethes at Sungho across from him. The boys were at their usual outdoor cafe table, just outside the university. It was a miracle that they would get the same table almost every week.

“Woah, woah slow down. What’s going on?” Taesan suddenly appears and nudges Sungho to make room for himself at the table.

“Sungho’s not believing a word I say—“

“Believe it or not, it’s quite easy to.” Taesan replies nonchalant before Jaehyun gets a chance to defend himself.

“Oh my god, Taesan I will kick your ass.” Jaehyun groans while Sungho almost chokes on his drink and Taesan smirks.

Jaehyun was observant, but he was amazingly dense too. He was intelligent, but a bit too much speculation causes an inability to recognise the obvious in front of him. This was one of those cases.

After you had left Leehan’s place that evening, Jaehyun went over to Leehan’s to drop off dinner from Sungho since he hadn't had the time (or the budget really) for his grocery shopping just yet. So Jaehyun, the loving friend he was, kept the boy company for the evening while he was at it.

Sungho turns to Taesan, “Jaehyun said he found one of y/n’s containers in Leehan’s kitchen. So now he’s a little curious as to how it magically made its way there.” Jaehyun had oftentimes teased you for your mismatching containers, and the one he saw in Leehan’s apartment was definitely yours. Who else would’ve owned a container with a Pororo lid?

Taesan scoffs, “Y/n probably made cookies like she did last time for us. Remember that?” Sungho squints at Taesan before he remembers, “OH! THOSE! That makes a lot more sense.”

Jaehyun waves his arms dramatically in front of Sungho and Taesan. “Hello? What am I missing? Am I suddenly chopped liver to you all?”

“You know? Y/n’s cookies? The ones they make every now and then?” Sungho says, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jaehyun looks like he’s been smacked across the face. “Why do I not know of this? What cookies are you two on about?”

Taesan rolls his eyes. “It’s y/n’s thing. They probably made them for Leehan since he just moved in and whatnot. Nothing too out of the blue.” Taesan nonchalantly says as he eats a cracker from his bag.

Just as Jaehyun was about to protest about his apparent lack of knowledge, a silent ‘yo’ came from beside him as the figure makes himself comfy in the chair beside Jaehyun.

“Speak of the devil…” murmurs Jaehyun as he leans back in his chair, not loud enough for Leehan to hear but enough for Sungho to almost choke on his drink again. Leehan feels the stares on him as he opens his little blue container of… cookies? Dipped with chocolate?

You loved making cookies for your friends, and Taesan knew it was a way for you to blow off steam. One time last semester, during submission week, you were so stressed that you stress-baked three batches of chocolate cookies and gave a whole load of it to Taesan and Sungho. Taesan had so much he had to give some to his other neighbours, Woonhak and Riwoo, just so they'd still be enjoyed fresh.

And yet, with all the baking you've done, Taesan has never seen chocolate dipped cookies since the day Woonhak started senior high school. It wasn't long ago, but you had sworn that they were 'too messy' and you were 'never going to do it again unless it was as special' as that day.

“Aha!” Jaehyun leaps from his seat, other tables turn to look at Jaehyun’s unwarranted reaction as Leehan almost drops the cookie he had just bit into. Leehan’s bewilderment was understated: he stared at Jaehyun, then at Taesan and Sungho looking amused at his container of cookies. Sungho elbows Taesan and he slaps him back.

“Is there something on my face?” Leehan murmurs, and when no one gave him an answer he took a bite of the cookie. He looks at Jaehyun, who finally sat back in his seat after his mini freakout. Sungho swears he could see stars form in Leehan's eyes as he chewed the sweet treat.

“So y/n’s baking isn’t bad huh?” Sungho breaks the silence, Taesan barely suppresses a smirk next to him.

“Yeah!” Leehan replies enthusiastically, not quite looking up at Sungho. There was a smile that reached his eyes as he spoke, “these really remind me of these butter cookies I used to have back in Busa— wait, y/n?”

This time, Taesan actually laughs. Jaehyun looks on, confused. Leehan turns red, “Hold on... how'd you know it was from y/n?”

If he was an outsider, Sungho would think this mini interrogation was too much. But alas, what’s a little friendship without a little jabbing here and there?

Sungho shrugs and sits back in his chair, “Eh, just a little hunch.” Taesan lightly smacks Sungho's arm.

Frankly, Leehan was stunned and didn’t know what to say. So he did what any other person would do and continued to eat his little cookies and scrolled through his phone. Though the redness in his ears never really went away.

Why did he blush when Taesan and Sungho mentioned your name? I mean, the cookies were good.

“Jae, you good bro?” Taesan eyed the uncharacteristically quiet boy next to Leehan, who seemed to be staring at Leehan’s (read: your) cookies. Jaehyun looked at Taesan, then Sungho, then the cookies again before his eyes went comically wide.

“OH I GET IT NOW!” Jaehyun says a bit too enthusiastically again as he pretends to smack his head with a closed fist, eyes squinted as he finally realised why they were teasing Leehan in the first place.

Taesan couldn’t help but remain bemused as he looked at Leehan, almost apprehensive in giving Jaehyun one of his cookies.

“Hey, don’t give me that look,” Jaehyun playfully shoves Leehan, “just one cookie I promise! y/n’s your neighbour, she could probably make some for you anytime!”

“Then why haven’t they given you any, Jae?”

“Shut up, you nerd!”

———

It was a given that interior design was a pain. Yet here you are, studying interior design in university, where your budget was blown for art supplies, and throwing your pride away so you could walk down the street with unnecessarily large poster boards under your arm.

“So where are my cookies?” is the first thing you hear when you stop at the stoplight on your way back home.

“Your what now?” is your reply to Taesan, who was at the stoplight before you were. You were too checked out from a long day of classes to realise it was him standing there. You threw him an incredulous look.

“Cookies? Butter cookies? Seriously, I didn’t even know you made those. And the chocolate? You hate washing dishes and yet you decide to go the extra mile and dip the damn cookies in the chocolate.” Taesan drawls teasingly in a way that he knew pissed you off the most. You roll your eyes,

“If you’re talking about the cookies he made Leehan, then yes. I made him some damn housewarming cookies dipped in chocolate. You know, get him settled. What’s the deal?”

Taesan laughs a little as he reminisces the scene at the cafe earlier, “He brought some with him today and it was the happiest I’ve seen him. Probably ever, if I’m being real. Or maybe since he's moved here.”

You glance at Taesan before failing to suppress your laugh, “Nice try. Taesan, if you’re trying to do what I think you’re trying to do—“

“Woah, woah! Who said anything about me? I’m just relaying you… some… important information. You know, maybe... to your benefit" He stage whispers the last few words.

“What’s so important about my cookies then?” This is going nowhere. You have never wanted that damn stoplight to turn green so badly in your life.

“I got a hunch. A big one. I suggest you take my advice if you want this to go… somewhere.” And with perfect timing, the stoplight turns green and Taesan walks off.

A hunch? My cookies, neighbour, Leeha—

“Taesan!" The board under your arm almost slips when you take a step forward, " Get bac—my god, we live in the same building. Come back here!”

Taesan decided you suddenly didn’t exist when he walked off (in the most friendly way possible, of course). He pulls out his phone and texts Sungho,

‘I got a plan’

next chapter.

[alexihollis]

Mirror Images

Ajax did not mean to overhear the argument. Sincerely, one hundred percent, overhearing the argument was the last thing she meant to do. But she happened to be passing by the room on her way back from the bathroom and the yelling was loud that close to the door and...Well.

Ajax didn't love yelling.

So.

She stopped. For a second.

You know. Just to make sure everything was okay.

It became pretty obvious it was Swan and Mercy - made sense, she was stopped in front of their bedroom after all.

"-don't need to!" Swan.

"He fucking cat-called you!" Mercy.

"Yes, I am well-aware! That did not give you the right to throw a can in his face!"

"You weren't doing anything about it!"

"Nothing needed to be done!"

"Something did! You deserve better than that-"

"You cannot start a fight with every man who disrespects me, that's ridiculous-"

"I'm sorry, is this a regular occurrence?!"

"We live in New York!"

"He's affiliated, he needs to fucking know better. What would Cleon say?"

"That I didn't have my colors on? And I cannot stress how little that is the point."

"Whatever."

"Where are you going?"

"Smoke. We'll talk about this later."

"Wha- Wait, Mercy-"

There was a moment of quiet. Then, Mercy, softer, but loud enough for Ajax to still hear: I still love you."

And Swan, small in a way that caught Ajax completely off-guard and reminded her of someone, though she couldn't put a finger on who: "I love you, too."

Ajax barely managed to rush five steps down the hall before the door opened, throwing herself into the living room in a desperate attempt to not look like she had been eavesdropping. The look of complete bewilderment and exasperation she earned from Rembrandt from almost crushing Cowgirl on the couch told her she did not entirely succeed.

"Jesus, get off me," Cowgirl grumbled, shoving at Ajax.

Ajax settled on the couch when Mercy walked in, shrugging on one of Swan's corduroy jackets and fiddling with a packet of cigarettes.

"Where you goin', Mercy?" Cochise asked.

"Roof. Smoke," Mercy jiggled her cigarettes. "Anyone want to join?"

She shouldn't. She really, really shouldn't. "Yeah. Need one."

"You literally just sat down," Cowgirl said.

Ajax ignored her, though she caught the slight furrow in Mercy's eyebrow. Mercy did not say anything, though, as they left the apartment and hiked up the stairs to the roof. Once there, it was quick work sitting with their backs against the small ledge and lighting up their respective cigarettes, Mercy letting Ajax borrow hers.

"Heard you threw a can at some guy's face today," Ajax said. Because she had no impulse control.

"Where exactly did you hear this?" Mercy asked.

Ajax shrugged. "Around." At Mercy's unimpressed look, "The door is not that thick."

"...Wait, did you hear us from the living room?" Mercy asked. Looking more than a little concerned that-

Oh.

Fucking great.

"No. I- I was standing outside your door," Ajax said.

Mercy blinked. "Why?"

"...Heard shouting. Wanted to make sure everything was okay." Ajax hated this.

Mercy sighed, heavily. "Yes, I threw a can in a guy's face. Go ahead, lecture me, gonna say the same shit that Swan did, probab-"

"Good for you," Ajax said instead.

"What."

Ajax shrugged. "Cat-called your girl. He earned a can to the face. Especially if he's affiliated, Swan's not a nobody."

"Can you please tell Swan that?!" Mercy exclaimed. "She thinks I overreacted!"

"Oh, you definitely overreacted."

"But you just said-"

"I agree with the overreaction, which should tell you something," Ajax said. "It already happened, I'm not gonna sit here and say you shouldn't have done it, but Swan's gonna be pissed about it and Cleon wouldn't be too happy either."

Mercy groaned, slumping against the wall. "This is stupid." Then, "I'm stupid. I didn't even mean to throw the fucking can, it just happened!"

Ajax laughed, low, "Yeah. Definitely been there."

"What if it was Rembrandt?" Mercy asked. "What would you have done?"

"It's been Rembrandt," Ajax said. "And- yeah, I've thrown worse things than cans. And Rembrandt gets mad every time."

That was when it clicked very suddenly. Who Swan sounded like at the end of her and Mercy's argument.

Rembrandt.

"Rembrandt says it scares her when I do that, because there's so much that could go wrong," Ajax said.

Mercy took a moment, before saying, "Swan said the same thing." Then, "Does Rembrandt do that thing where's she's like, its not about your ability to do whatever, but I get freaked out and blah and it makes you want to never do that thing just so she doesn't look at you with that sad, scared, puppy face ever again?"

Unfortunately, Ajax knew exactly what face Mercy was talking about, "I hate that face."

"I do, too." Then, "I mean, it's a cute face-"

"Adorable."

"But it's so sad and makes me feel like a monster."

"Scum of the Earth."

...

"Ajax. Has your girlfriend been giving mine lessons on how to guilt me into not being impulsive?"

"I really cannot think about that right now, I'm too focused on the fact that I have way too much in common with you."

"Does that mean we can talk about that silent agreement you and Swan have that involves you never letting me punch people?"

"Yeah, no, that was a verbal agreement with Cleon, because she thinks you're going to be snapped like a toothpick."

"I held my own against the Furies!"

"...You had a bat."

"...I can get another bat."

"Absolutely the fuck not, that is a terrifying idea, neither of us need bats and fuck you for making me the responsible one."

--------

Here's a bit of a funnier drabble to make up for all the angst lol

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps

Platonic Yandere Batfam x Mentally Ill/Forgetful Reader

Warning: This work is a yandere work, hopefully part of a series, as as such will contain themes of manipulation, abuse, violence and obsession. Stay safe, and enjoy!!

Your ID was missing.

You stand in the middle of your room, every drawer open and rifled through. You had gone through every bag, every purse, every wallet it might have been it. You had moved the bed, moved the couch, moved every piece of furniture that it might have fallen behind. Nothing had worked.

“Fuck..” You groan, sinking onto your couch. “Fuck, this cannot be happening. I’m so screwed.”

You had a doctors appointment coming up, to get your anxiety meds refilled, and you were already starting to run low. You had been hoping to manage, but with your ID missing and no way to find it, you were shit out of luck.

Your phone rings, and you glance down, staring at the caller ID. It was Dick.

“Hey.” You greet, trying to force the appropriate amount of cheer into your voice. The older man was nice, pleasant to talk to and attentive, but he had the irritating habit of picking up on your moods eerily well, even over the phone. That would lead to him fussing, and while you appreciated the thought, you were an adult and would prefer to be treated like one.

“Hey! Everything alright? You sound stressed, kiddo.”

“I’m fine.” You huff, putting the phone on speaker. You, for whatever reason, despised things touching your face, even phones.

“Uh-huh. What’s going on? You’re never this quiet.” Dick presses, and you press your lips together into a fine line, starting to put up your stuff. It wouldn’t do to have someone come over when you had torn apart your apartment. You may live in Gotham, but you refused to have your apartment look half as bad on the inside as it did on the outside.

“My ID is missing. Don’t have a damn clue what happened to it.” You hear Dick suck in a breath, and you curl your shoulders in, wanting to sink into the floor and die. Dick was always so nice that any time you upset or disappointed him, it was like a punch to the gut.

“(Y/N)…” He starts, and your shoulders twitch up higher, and you dig your nails into your forearms.

“I know! I can’t find it anywhere, but I know it’s in the apartment because I literally had it last night.”

“Hey, it’s alright. Me and Dami will come over, we’ll help you look, alright.”

You groan. You didn’t want them coming over, especially not both him and Damian, and seeing you so freaked out and panicked. While Damian was, you knew, extremely mature for being 14, he was also judgemental as all hell and had the very annoying habit of implying that you shouldn’t be living alone. Which wouldn’t bother you all that much, he was a kid, but Dick seemed to be of the same opinion and it drive you absolutely insane some days.

“You guys don’t have to bother, really. I’ll find it, and if I don’t find it, I’ll set something up at the DMV to get a new one.”

“Just let us come over, (Y/N). Maybe we can help you find it.” Dick wasn’t asking now, and you huff, crossing your arms.

“Fine. Just let yourselves in when y’all get here, I guess.”

You hear Dick snicker, probably at your use of the word “y’all” and roll your eyes. For someone who was nearly a decade older than you, he sure had a childish sense of humor sometimes.

“Alright. We’ll see you than.” The phone beeps when he hangs up. You set it down, an ugly knot in your chest.

“Damn it.” You had been trying, so hard, to distance yourself from the Wayne family. They were nice enough, always willing to help even if they were always busy at some point or another, but they had the irritating habit of inserting themselves into anything you did. If you went out shopping, they were somehow there. Doctor’s appointment? They somehow met you outside the office. On a date? They were at the same restaurant. You weren’t sure if it was intentional or accidental but anytime you tried thinking about it you would nearly spiral so badly you had to stop.

“Fuck.” Your chest was tight, and you snarl, frustrated at the way your heart rate was starting to pick up and your hands were starting to shake. You knew, well and good, that the likelihood of it being anything nefarious was low, the Wayne’s were reknowned for being good people, from a multitude of backgrounds. That didn’t stop the way your mind latched onto the possibility though. You tried to ignore it. Your meds had been getting less and less effective, lately.

The doorbell rings. You get up off your couch, ignore the mess, and open the door.

“Hey.” Dick ruffles your hair, and you scowl. He doesn’t seem all that put off, but you suppose he wouldn’t with Jason and Damian as his brothers.

“Hey. You know I said to just let yourself in, right? I gave you a key for a reason.” This had been early on, in knowing the Wayne’s when you hadn’t realized that giving Dick a key meant surprise visits without a call and very little warning.

“Yeah, I know. I left it at the manor, though, I was using one of Bruce’s cars and don’t have my keys.” He explains, and steps inside, not even waiting for you to open the door further. Damian follows silently, and you mentally curse the fact the kid was 14 and already your height. He was going to be so damn tall, it was almost insulting.

“Cool. As you can see, I’ve been looking for it, and..” Your hand motions uselessly. Surprisingly, Dick nods, his face sympathetic. You had expected more scolding.

“Why don’t you just go and sit down, yeah? Me and Damian can search. Did you take your meds today? Set your alarm and everything?”

“I took my meds, Dick. All of them.”

“Including the Methylphenidate?”

“Dick, if I didn’t remember to take that, I wouldn’t remember to take anything else. I took all my meds today, and not only did I take my meds, I actually went to therapy this week instead of forgetting.”

“Good. You need it.” Damian hums, rooting through the couch cushion. You begin to get up to help him, and he sends you a sharp look. You sit back down.

“When do you need your meds refilled? Did you have it in the house?” Dick asks.

“It was in the house. And I need them refilled soon. I can probably try and stretch them out-“

“Don’t. We can get you your meds if we need to, just keep taking them on schedule.” Dick rebukes, and you cringe. You didn’t doubt they could, but you didn’t like feeling like a charity case

“Dick, y’all really don’t have to do that.”

“Relax.” He huffs, standing and squinting at the drawer angrily. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. ‘Sides, you’ve helped me out more than a few times.”

“Yeah, by covering a shift not by buying your psych meds. These are not at all the same.” You laugh. You and Dick had met working at the YMCA in Bludhaven, and when you had moved to Gotham due to the extraordinarily cheap rent, you both had stayed in contact.

“May as well be.” Dick shrugs. “You cooking anything tonight?”

“Was gonna put some meat out to thaw.” You admit, flushing. The judgemental look Damian sends you says more than enough.

“Why don’t you come on over to the Manor to eat? I know Alfred has missed you helping him wrangle everyone together.” Dick offers, and you want to protest. What about your ID, which he had offered to help find? Wasn’t it late at night?

“Sure.” You say instead, reaching for your keys even as Dick cheers, and Damian smiles.

You can’t shake the feeling something is wrong even as you close your front door, locking it behind you, and let Dick lead you to the car.

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Xavier x Reader - Blurbs

A/n: I'm sorry that I haven't been posting, I was getting stressed out about a bunch of shit going on. I apologize but please enjoy :)!!

We all know Xavier is an amazing man with amazing talents

But he cannot do one thing to save his life

And that is...

Cooking

Mans would burn down your kitchen if you left him alone in there to watch bread bake...

But for his sake (and yours), you told him you'd teach him how to cook with the Food Network App not sponsored

It went a little something like this:

"Xavier, all you have to do is follow the instructions on the video. It's easy and we get baked ziti out of it." "...You're right. I'll give it a try." You smile at him then sit at your kitchen island, watching him work around the kitchen. Occasionally, he'd turn to you to ask if he was doing a certain task correctly. You'd guide him through it and then continue to watch him cook. After about 15-30 minutes, a plate slides in front of you with a glass of Cola. You take a small bite after blowing on the food. It tastes divine. "It's really good. Good job Xavier." "Thank you." After the dinner, you both decide to watch a random movie and cuddle on your big beanbag. He fell asleep after a while and that's when you smelled the air. "Hey Xavier..." He simply hums at you, rubbing his eyes. "Something smells like it's burning." His eyes shoot open and he jumps up from on top of you. He grabs gloves quickly and pulls out burnt pieces of bread. "I forgot about the garlic bread!"

Bro literally forgot that he made garlic bread...

And he didn't even serve it with the baked ziti...

I would've been big mad without that damn garlic bread.!

He would've gotten a piece of my mind!

I also believe he'd would leave food outside for the stray kitties that stop by

What's worse is that he names them all crazy cat lady confirmed?

"Xavier, where are you?" You finally find him crouched down and feeding a stray cat from your balcony view. "Xavier...why are you feeding the cat?" "It's a cat." "I get that but why." "It's a hungry stray cat." You soon get dressed and go outside to greet your boyfriend. More cats have approached, mewling at him. "Babe, that's enough. You literally are about to have them follow you inside." "Free cats." "No." With a sigh, Xavier leaves the open cans of food outside, right in front of his balcony. Needless to say, mans literally was perched outside.

He feeds them everyday

And if there happens to be a new one, he'll name it

There are so many names, you lost count

But another thing you love doing together is sleeping/napping.

You wanted to take a nap before you went to work but you awaken to Xavier piled on top of you.

"Xavier, I need to get up." "..." "Xavier, I don't want to be late for work again. You made me late the last time." "Then call out." "We're both out tomorrow anyway, Xavier." "..." "I promise that we won't do anything tomorrow and we can just stay in." His head perks up and his sleepy eyes look into yours. "Ok." He finally gets up and watches as you rush to get ready. You plant a soft kiss on his lips and leave. To him, it felt like years when you both didn't leave at the same time to work.

He's a little bit silly

But we love a silly lil clingy Xavier

[autism-alley]

augh found my old post abt pjo and disability from before the show came out but it was on ye olde blog so i’m literally just gonna copy and paste, 3, 2, 1—

ok now that i’ve got it on the brain, i want to talk about disability in pjo and specifically how calling percy jackson dumb or treating him as such is not only a mischaracterization, but ableism. as a quick note, i’m keeping this to just percy to avoid having this already long post be even longer, but there are other disabled characters in pjo worthy of discussion, though i hit many of the same points in this post. i bring up percy specifically because he is mostly the character i have seen people treat as stupid.

percy is a dyslexic teen with ADHD who comes from a low-income family, raised by a single mother, and deals with an abusive step-father. i cannot stress enough how much of his character is shaped by that experience, but as hard as it is to single out any one part, i am going to focus on his ADHD and dyslexia. this kid has nightmares of being forced to take tests in a straightjacket as teachers ask him if he’s stupid and withhold him from recess with his peers. he is constantly labelled as “troubled” and blamed for things he didn’t do or aren’t his fault. he is told, over and over again, even from trusted adults, that he is “not normal” (othering him). he bounces between schools. he struggles to make friends. he deals with bullying. he has difficulty studying and reading, even when invested. teachers struggle to connect with him and tend to just give up on him. these are real disabled experiences, and rick does a good job at presenting them in the pjo books. sometimes, it feels like everything is a struggle. you are living inside a system that not only is restricting, but actively works against and punishes you.

in contrast, CHB is a great example of how when environments meet the needs of disabled people, it hugely changes how disabled we are in that environment. demigod brains are hard-wired for ancient greek, not english, and they’re born impulsive, with high energy levels that help them survive battle—but aren’t very good for a classroom setting. but by having them read books in ancient greek, regularly do lots of training/physical activities, and have genuine opportunities to express themselves...they function pretty damn well. percy discovers that while he struggles academically, he is brilliant in combat and capable of saving the world numerous times—he is a hero. do you know how important that message is for disabled children? disabled adults, too? that we can be heroes?

it is here, in camp half-blood, that percy finds a place he belongs, that shows him his worth—finally, somewhere is built to not only include him, but to nurture and genuinely prepare him for the world outside its boarders. however, i think people forget that just because percy functions in the world of CHB and the gods, that does not mean he doesn’t face ableism in the mortal world—and that there is an entire group of people who see ourselves reflected in his character.

i could talk on for hours about how much being disabled shapes percy’s identity and how he interacts with the world—like how percy’s humor revolves around coping with his environment and actually displays a very low self esteem after being looked down upon his entire life. this kid doesn’t even have to say anything and he screams i had a neurodivergent childhood. but about 5-6 years ago, when i was more regularly tuned into the fandom, every time i saw someone call percy jackson dumb or an idiot, even jokingly, i raised an eyebrow, and now that the series is getting fresh coverage from disney+, i have wanted to make this post. so much of this kid’s life and personality comes from being treated like he’s dumb or incapable, so it’s troubling to watch part of the fanbase reflect the harmful parts of this character’s upbringing. i truly hope it does not become common again. it’s also one thing coming from a neurodivergent/disabled person with similar experiences (and even then i personally find it a little uncomfortable), it’s another to be said by a neurotypical/able bodied person.

percy jackson’s experiences make for very important representation, and for people to characterize him as just a goofy, unintelligent guy is not only an insult to his character as a kid who is intelligent, but previously lacked the environment to show it, but also ableist. so in the dawn of the new tv series era, i ask that we cut that shit out. rick riordan did not create rep for neurodivergent and disabled kids for them to be called stupid by the fanbase. even jokingly.

[thesparklingwriter]

the sun's sweltering glare

“We can’t possibly stay in here all day and do nothing,”

tags: this is literally nothing but fluff, there is no plot, they don't do anything, they just lounge around in bed together and talk about things, i literally mean nothing happens i cannot stress that enough, this is one thousand words of nothingness

masterlist | taglist

When you wake up, the house is quiet. Aside from Zhongli’s gentle breathing, or the birds you can hear chirping outside your window, time might as well have frozen for you . The sun glares through your windows, pummelling you with heat, warping your vision with tiny waved distortions. You sit up, ripping the covers off yourself, desperate to get some air, but of course, the sheer heat almost drags the energy out of you and you flip back on your shared bed, defeated.

“What’s the matter, dearest?” Zhongli asks as he wakes, gently taking your hand in his. The heat has never bothered him as much as it does you and his hands are cool to the touch as he gently caresses your face.

“It’s too hot.” you complain, leaning into his touch. He chuckles, pulls you closer to him, and plants a kiss on your slightly damp forehead with an indulgent smile. If you didn’t know any better you would have assumed he had demanded the sun to work overtime, especially with the way he smiled smugly like the heat was his doing. “How are you even alive?” You ask him, noticing he’s still under the covers, dressed as if it were still the chilly early spring that seemed to last forever.

“I’m not as averse to the heat as you are,” he says softly, absentmindedly tracing shapes down your arms, making you shiver at his touch. If you were to ask him, he’d claim he had no idea of what he was doing, that it was never his intention to make chills run down your spine the way they do. But of course, you know better than to question him. You’ll most likely be greeted with faux innocence, a reminder of his mischievous ways. You relish in the way the cool silk of his pyjamas soothes your clammy arms as you pull him into a tighter hug, the way he lets you profit from his coolness, despite the fact he has places to be.

“You’re not averse to anything.” You groan. “It’s like you’re made of rock. Nothing bothers you.”

“Nothing will bother me for as long as I have you by my side.”

“You’re such a menace.” You smile, as he runs his hands through your hair. When you’re with him like this, it’s as if time stops for you, all the worries of the mortal world condemned to irrelevancy. “Don’t you have things to do today?”

“No one would come by the funeral parlour in this heat,” he says, with finality. It seems that even if anyone were to come to request his aid, he wouldn’t grant them his time anyway. “And furthermore, Hutao won’t be working.” He says with finality, gently kissing your cheek.

“Surely someone with a pyro vision would be accustomed to the heat,” you say, enjoying the air of peace the heatwave has brought with it.

“Are all who have been blessed with a geo vision as stubborn as the element they’re gifted?”

You stare at Zhongli. “Your arms are wrapped so tightly around me that I don’t dare even think about moving for fear of them getting tighter. I think I have sufficient grounds to argue that even the most relaxed wielder is significantly more stubborn than the average person.”

He laughs at that, so heartily that you feel his chest vibrate with it. “I suppose you have a point there, my dear.” The smile he gives you is indulgent, so charged with affection that you almost have to look away, embarrassed by the way your face takes on a pleased flush.

“We can’t possibly stay in here all day and do nothing,” you say finally, gently threading your hands through his hair and twisting it between your fingers.

“We certainly could.” Zhongli retaliates. “Who’s to stop us?”

“My boss.”

“You are your own boss.” He retorts, watching you with unleashed curiosity.

“I have a work ethic. Unlike someone I know.”

Zhongli doesn’t respond to you for a while, instead burying his face in the crook of your neck. “My interests aren’t currently aligned as firmly with work as much as they were in my youth.” He says finally. You take this to mean that you’re going to be stuck between his arms for the next two hours. But to be honest, is there really anywhere else you’d want to be?

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

notes: big thanks to @auraxins for hosting another super fun event! i had a blast writing this!

taglist: @ainescribe @thelonelyarchon @aixaingela @medusuu @tartigglez @atlaincorrect

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

I'm not the person who asked but 👁👁 may I inquire as to the spoilery season 5 problems

Understand that everything I'm about the say Under the Cut, comes from a place of bias. Bias that truly does love the Juno Steel storyline, bias that absolutely hates the plot direction Kabert took with the last two seasons

Slip Jackson. He is the plothole they wrote, the corner Kabert backed themselves into and had to write themselves out of. The one NO ONE ASKED FOR but they wrote in anyways to explain "this is what happened After Nureyev saved NK and killed Mag". I cannot stress enough how pissed off and annoyed Slappery Junkyard makes me from a plot standpoint.

Too many plot devices disguised as characters. Every other episode the listener and Juno is introduced to someone new. And every other episode they are forgotten about and we move on to the next. This is the equivalent I feel to early TMA and early WTNV monster of the week and even early TPP where Juno is solving one case after the next-

Only this time Juno's chasing after Nureyev across the fucking galaxy. I love Juno with all my heart, but it still is super annoying that all of season 5 is spent of him chasing after Nureyev, getting tripped up, chasing after Nureyev, getting tripped up, wash rinse repeat. Especially more annoying and upsetting when you factor in that Nureyev blatantly does not want to be followed (but me and every other listener is a fucking sucker for a hopeful fool and dramatic love story. If this happened to someone you actually knew, you wouldn't encourage or condone Juno's behavior, but because the Lady isn't real and it's all a work of fiction and Juno is the Hero, ofc we're all cheering him on)

Grandpappy's recipe. We're given a hint of worldbuilding to the rest of the galaxy, and Juno shows some appreciation towards Rita, but it is not her storyline. It is not Rita-centric. And the depiction of Nureyev in these couple of episodes (i don't know how anyone else felt) came so far out of left field for me, that I almost didn't believe what Juno and Rita were saying about him. Something along the lines of Nureyev is a con, and he sweet talks and seduces all of his targets into falling for him, before ultimately turning on them and stealing from their pockets. The Homme Fatale thing gets really pushed, and it's like everything discussed in Man in Glass never happened.

The amazing moment in Heart of it All when he reminds Buddy "a legend is a dead thing" (and by extension the discussion he had with her in Man in Glass) might as well never fucking happened. Peter goes the entirety of season 5 with his head so far up his own ass, he can't see past his own bullshit, until it's literally 10 minutes too late.

Nureyev is deliberately rude towards Juno (who did cross a boundary MULTIPLE TIMES) but is also extremely fucking dismissive of the Ruby7 being anything but a car (it's not, it's an alien from outside of this galaxy and Nureyev cannot accept that for some reason, but he can totally get behind reviving his long lost first love???)

OH AND RITA!!! POOR POOR FUCKING RITA OMG- Juno is a massive fuckin dick to her in Season 1, he promises to do better for her at end of Season 2, and she is the first Aurinko he rescues in Season 4 because he knows without her he won't be of much use. Rita is supposed to be Juno's backbone, but she's more like the brace he wears when he needs it. The Rita episode in Season 3 is framed as a good thing for her character and meant to be a confidence boost, but it's really not. And Season 4 I don't remember, but literally in Season 5 Rita is sidelined and put over on the bench because she "makes too many mistakes" on missions. Juno dresses it up as "You're our ace in the hole" but cmon. Come the fuck on.

[mxtantrights]

Famous dc!au (dick's version)

TRACK EIGHT: POPROCKS AND COKE

The offer is staring you right in the face. You could literally pay for a year’s rent with this opportunity. You could have a little bit left over for fun or for a big emergency. You could do so much with this offer.

But you really don’t want to take it. You feel like if you do, whatever is happening between you and Dick can’t happen. If he keeps kind of being your boss, you cannot ask him out. There is no way.

You’d probably look like a fool. And maybe you’d be laughed of the industry, having to find a normal job somewhere doing things you don’t like. Could you see yourself being a music video actor for the rest of your life? Of course not. But since you’ve started you want to see it through. 

You sigh and shut your laptop. The stress had been lingering since you got the notification on your phone last night. Just thinking about it turned you in knots. Did Dick not see you in that way? Even though Theo theorized that he might feel the same way you do, you aren’t sure that’s true. And if he wants you to work on another video with him how could it be true?

You pick up your phone from the couch and decide to leave your apartment. Working on autopilot you lock up and take the elevator down, and there on the sidewalk in front of your place is an older man with a box.

“Can you help me?” He asks you directly.

You look up and down the block first. There is no one else outside on this street but the two of you so it would be mean to ignore him. Then again this could be som weird stunt and you didn’t want to get yourself hurt. 

You look at the man again, “What’s in the box.” 

“She’s all yours if you want her.” 

You want to back up and walk away from the man. But he’s quicker then you and leans the box down so you might look inside of it. Your eyes catch a glimpse of something moving inside , underneath a read blanket. Your mind thinks the worst.

“Sir, is��if that’s a baby maybe we should drop it off at a firehouse.” you say. He shakes his head, “it’s a puppy.”

And sure enough the pup pokes it’s head out of the blanket. It’s not facing you at first. It’s head turns left then right and then all of a sudden the pup looks at you. A gray and white puppy with familiar blue eyes. 

You were done for.

-

Dick is listening to the final mix of the song and he feels like something is missing. The words are great and they feel real and authentic. The production is like nothing he’s ever tried before and yet it works. But there is something that is glaringly missing from the overall song.

He sits back in his seat. 

Then he turns to the producers, Dinah and Constantine. He can’t believe he’s sitting in room with Constantine but stranger things have happened. Zantana recommend him seeing as this was a new sound in his wheel house.

“Something is missing.” Dick says.

“I agree, but I can’t pin point what it is.” Dinah replies. Constantine suddenly gets up from his seat with out another word. He’s up and then he’s standing right in front of Dick. Dick isn’t sure why but honestly the three of them have been the studio for four hours now so he’s not thinking clearly anymore.

“The person you wrote this song for, do they know it’s about them?” Constantine asks.

Dick sheepishly looks around, “No, but I was planning on telling them—hold on what does that have to do with anything?” 

Constantine smiles, “It has everything to do with it. Music is a secret langue between people. If you’re making a song for someone there needs to be something in there to let them know it’s for them.” 

Dick shakes his head, “I’m not changing the lyrics.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying maybe there’s an instrument they like, or a sound. Something you can include in the song that would only be between the two of you.”  Constantine says.

Dick sits and thinks to himself. Well, he can’t go asking you what your favorite instrument or sound is now. You’d for sure know the song was about you, and he wasn’t sure he could do that yet. Not with the offer hanging over your head too.

Was there something else?

Constantine walks away, further into the studio. He has a bag of chips, halfway gone already, that he wants to finish. 

Dick shuts his eyes to think. He knew your favorite color. He knew how you took your tea. He knew plenty of things about you. But that would be too forward. What was one thing the two of you shared that wouldn’t make this whole thing weird?

Then it hits him. He knows exactly what the song is missing. He opens his eyes and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He starts texting his assistant for b footage from the music video.

“Dinah, it’s the intro.” Dick says.

Dinah doesn’t say anything. She just moves the track to the beginning and presses play. The start of the song floods the room and Dick doubles down on his idea. His assistant sends over a folder of videos. He knows which one to look for.

The one he took of you standing in the middle of the blocked off street. He had managed to record it while you were staring off into the distance, and no one on set was making noise. It was just the sound of wind on grass, a faint airplane maybe. 

“Let me airdrop this to you, maybe we can put it at the begging and have it fade into the song.” Dick says.

Dinah nods, “Alright Richard, I like where you’re going with this.” 

“Me too.” Constantine says with his mouth full.

-

You’re scrolling on your phone trying to find the nearest pet store when you see a link to one of those trashy news sites. You don’t want to click on it but you feel like you have to when you see Dick’s name. 

You wish you hadn’t. 

The article, if you can even call it that, is just a run down of his former relationships and some speculation. But another thing catches your eye. Once towards the beginning and then again at the end. Donna Troy and Zantana. You look at the images again and then it hits you. 

Those pictures are new. He went to Donna’s house. Zantana went to his house. Theres one of him and Donna hanging out at a food place. And there is one of him leaving the studio with Zantana. Your whole body deflates. 

A part of you, a very small part, thought you had basically no chance with Dick. It was the more ‘realistic and sensible’ part. The part that told you to not over spend incase you might need the money later, and to not over drink because no one likes a hangover. That part of you is almost always right. And these pictures all but confirmed it. 

You exit the news site and tap your way on to your email where you draft up a response to accept the offer. Yes it’s really going to suck to have to be all lovey dovey in a video with a guy you know you have feelings for. But on the other hand at least some of your bills would get paid.

A soft whine comes from your side. You look down at the gray baby pit bull laying on your couch who is looking up at you. 

“I’m gonna find a name for you, I promise.” You say, as if the puppy can understand you.

And yet, she yips and runs off your couch like she does. You sit back and type on your phone. Maybe this will be the last time you see Dick Grayson and you can let your heart move on. Maybe you weren’t cut out for this business at all if you fell in love with a heartbreaker.

[exmoth]

I go to the ceramic studio to destress and chill and I'm in the zone when this old bitch comes up to me and mansplains that I shouldn't sand my pieces indoors because of this and that/silicosis. Dude said i should do that outside meanwhile it's windy as fuck and 30 fuckin degrees Fahrenheit (less than that if you factor wind chill). BUT WHAT HIS UGLY ASS PROBABLY DIDN'T SEE IS THAT I WAS WET SANDING!! WHICH IS ALLOWED IN OUR STUDIO POLICY. Literally have done it countless times in classes with instructors around. BUT I STOPPED BC IT DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT WAS WORTH THE TROUBLE. Then in my mind I was like "wait is that not allowed in the winter or something??". I checked the posters around the studio, and ofc I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG. I approached him and asked, did the policy on wet sanding change recently? Motherfucker literally says "no, not to my knowledge" but tries to frame it like he's concerned about MY lungs. Like don't try bitch idek you. He didn't even try to introduce himself before he ordered me to stop doing something that was, I cannot stress this enough, within studio policy.

Unless the weather is really nice, I'm gonna continue doing shit as usual and that ugly mother fucker and his pedostach better stay outta my way and if not I'll simply say I don't care and that I'm not breaking rules + following safety guidelines and that I'll ignore him here on out if he insists on disrupting my flow.

[growingingreenwood]

Hey Mama, are you doing okay????? In class today we were looking at polar vortex in North America rn and one of the places my teacher talked about was the province i think you live in (you're Canadian, right???) and he said it was like -40 Degrees Celsius there!!!!! I don't even know how to comprehend those temperatures!!!! Like, are you still alive out there???

Hello my sweet summer child! <3 You're right, I am Canadian! And im not going to lie to you, its been rough out here. And more importantly, its been CONSISENTLY COLDER THAN THE SURFACE OF MARS HERE.

My area of the province has set several temperature records in the past few days:

January 14, 2024: New record of -45.1, Old record of -41.6 set in 2020

January 13, 2024: New record of -45.3, Old record of -41.7 set in 1972

January 12, 2024: New record of -45.9, Old record of -39.4 set in 1969

This doesn't account for the Windchill factor which effectively made the temperatures closer to -55 degrees or colder. To put it into context the only way I can think to, According to Environment Canada at:

-28 to -39 degrees Celsius exposed skin can freeze in 10-30 minutes.

-40 to -47 degrees Celsius exposed skin can freeze in 5-10 minutes.

-48 to -54 degrees Celsius exposed skin can freeze in 2-5 minutes.

Literally not a single car in my family's worked, no matter what we did. This is including extended family, so like, 13 cars. Its just too damn cold for them. Hospitals were literally wrapping their ambulances with heated blankets in between calls so that the entire engine wouldn't freeze. In their heated garage.

Its about an eight day wait for any kind of towing or boosting services. From any provider.

We out here, we cant see anything through the ice fog because the air itself is frozen, but we out here.

Also, I feel like this is the perfect opportunity to give the rest of you much farther south than me tips for surviving other wandering polar vortex's in the future, because at least we're prepared up here:

YOU NEED SURVIVAL EQUPMENT IN YOUR CAR!!! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH!!!! I'm talking heavy duty gloves, hats, socks, blankets, those heat reflective thermal blankets. If possible, have enough for at least two people but if you're a family ensure there's clothes for every member of your family. I also highly recommend that you get hand and feet warmers to put into your boots and gloves to prevent frostbite

Here is a good checklist to keep, and is very similar to what I have in my car:

https://todayshomeowner.com/weather/guides/winter-survival-kit-for-your-vehicle/

On that note, dressing for seriously cold weather is no fucking joke either, okay? There's an art to it, and that art is L A Y E R S . More layers than you think you need, and then one more. If you can bend your arms or legs without struggling at least a little bit, put another sweater on, underneath your windproof thick outer layer. And another pair of socks. Never leave the house without a hat and your ears covered.

Here's a good guide, which includes the warning signs, symptoms, and suggested actions for each stage of frostbite and hypothermia. Which, in case you didn't know happen in three stages of severity similar to burns but on the opposite side of the temperature scale.

Sorry to turn this into a Winter Weather Safety PSA but I genuinely cannot stress enough how important it is to be prepared in extreme cold. And please, for the love of everything good on this earth, do not and do not let your friends or anyone else walk anywhere when they've been drinking. Do. Not.

Every year in my city at LEAST several collage kids freeze to death because "their place isn't that far" "I have a good jacket." "Ive done it before."

People have frozen to death outside bars because they fell in a snowbank and were too drunk to get out and nobody saw them, because they tried to walk home.

Anyways, stay safe (and warm) out there everyone!!!!

[inkwell-intermission]

Dunno if you're still in school, I just woke up and saw the choose violence post and hell YEAH I'm interested. 1, 8, 22

8: common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Honestly, its obviously subjective, but there are small things? I think people are wrong when they make Droog Russian. I don't know. I think it's just tired. bonus points if they characterize him as like, Russian and a sociopath or whatever. It's just boring. I also don't like when Sleuth is blond. Bottle blond sure, but do you think that man puts enough effort into his appearance to BOTHER? He barely showers every other day let alone gets metrosexual with it. If a version of Sleuth was going to be a bottle blond you KNOW it would be Scofflaw, Sleuth absolutely does not serve daily hygiene in the way some people draw him 😭

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

This is a hard one because there's so little intermission to begin with, and not that much problem sleuth. I really enjoy the dipshit fop versions of the sleuth team and i never see anything about them i guess? I want to see more of the gentlemen, I should draw some stuff for them at some point. I'm going to put most of 1 under a cut because I'm gonna get into it.

the character everyone gets wrong

Where to start, I've got thoughts on a bunch of characterizations I think are just wrong, but the top four are Pickle Inspector, Die, Clubs Deuce and Droog.

TO START: PICKLE INSPECTOR

Whenever I see PI characterized as a tea drinker I think its very funny but also incorrect. I am fairly certain we never see PI drink tea, outside of possibly some provided by Death. When left to his own devices PI brews his own moonshine and gets absolutely plastered locked in his own office. He keeps his own waste in a glass vase in his office! I don't believe he has long hair as a person either, because he would NOT take care of it. He showers less frequently than Ace or Sleuth. I think if he had long hair that would get so tangled and he would be so stressed and fried about detangling it would never happen and he'd have to cut it all off. I think he cleans up his act a little when Broad comes into his life because he doesn't want to scare her off by being such a disaster, but he's low functioning, very neurotic, and constantly dissociating. Even if he's smart and detail-oriented, I don't believe he channels that into cleaning his own space, maintaining his personal hygiene, or literally just going grocery shopping. He isn't fussy and neat and a tea drinker, he's fussy and snippy and a bit peevish, he's sometimes delusional and dissociative and sitting in his own sweat for days. He needs to be hosed down like a dog at the groomers!!! DIE

This man is also not long haired because he is disgusting and i cannot imagine him taking care of it. he's similar to PI but doesn't dissociate in the same way and expresses his anxieties a lot more externally. I personally headcanon him as having trichotillomania and having very thin hair and eyebrows, and stubby if any eyelashes. He's not in an environment conducive to like. Reducing anxiety. So it's not getting better really. He wears gloves to make it more difficult to pull out individual hairs. If he's a leprechaun with no hair, he probably picks at his skin, and I headcanon leprechauns as having something akin to vellus hairs all over their body giving them a very soft feeling skin, and he would also tear those out. I think he's marginally more fixated on contamination anxiety than PI is, but overall he doesn't have the motivation to take care of himself! He lives a very stressful existence and is like the most frightened and aggressive donskoy cat you've ever seen. I do want to also note that I think him just being a wimp is wrong, i think he is a wimp but responds to threats not by cowering exclusively, but also by brandishing a gun and getting very agitated and i think he bites. TLDR he is not a cute schmoopy to me he is a possum who needs to get its shots (not for rabies. tetanus and the like)

CLUBS DEUCE

I don't have exactly as much to say on deuce that i didn't cover in another post i made about him, but it seems like he gets infantilized a lot sometimes. He's a grown ass adult man, he's just full of whimsy and love and enjoys being alive and setting fires and building things. He's not a toddlerrrrr. I'm not saying everyone treats him like one but he's got like. a full inner life. He's just has some of the best mental health in midnight city

DIAMONDS DROOG

I can go into his character in detail another time, but I'll say a little about how i think he's fanonized so deeply. He is not cool. He just looks cool. He's not verbose, he cultivates a very particular look and sticks to it, but that's not because he's some kind of casanova, or suave. His flat affect is unintentional. His unflappable reputation is nonexistent- he is incredibly violent and prone to temper flare-ups, the only difference is how much he screams or swears compared to Slick, he's almost as violent as him, just not as off-the-handle. He's very specific and detail oriented, but is also INCREDIBLY boring! Not in a bad way, he's just. Normal. I think he has absolutely no imagination skills. his imagination stat is like a paradox. He simply doesn't imagine anything new! When the Draconian Dignitary puts the ring on in Homestuck that one time, and he doesn't get a whole big transformation? HE COULDN'T IMAGINE HIMSELF AS ANYTHING COOLER! And, i also think he's autistic (like me), and that ties into how i think he's so uncomfortable with change or going outside of his specific ass comfort zone. He's not cool, or even sexy, its all a facade. He calls the number on clothes catalogues to interrogate underpaid employees about the kinds of seams on their trousers and the fabric treatments they use on their products for hours. He eats one of three things when he goes out if he goes out at all. He has a hundred opinions on alcohol and cigars and he doesn't even like smoking cigars firsthand because the flavors too strong. He lives a highly internal life. If he wore a collarless overshirt he would die. He wouldn't even wear a funny tie of his own volition! He's kind of a killjoy dipshit! AND I LIKE HIM FOR IT! Thank you for listening to my thoughts.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #310 (Part 1)

I've decided that today's letter is going to be about rice cookers and making snacks. Why? Well… you remember that acquaintance that I can trust about as far as I can throw? He has been asking me about basic life skills every so often, and the other day, he got a rice cooker so that he can make some basic meals for himself. This is a very good thing.

Unfortunately, his parents did not teach him even the most basic of kitchen and housekeeping concepts, like for example, why we don't use hand soap to wash dishes (because some hand soaps will leave residue, and it's designed to wash without damaging the skin oils too much, which makes it ill-suited to removing grease and baked on foods from dishes), and why we don't use metal or melamine foam pads in non-stick pots and pans (both of these things will scratch the non-stick surface, which will lead to cancer-causing chemicals leaching into your food). At this point in time, he is unable to differentiate between a regular sponge (made of plastic or cellulose, which does not scratch most surfaces) and a melamine foam pad (basically sandpaper in foam form; abrasive as hell; mostly used to get tough stains from walls, counters, stoves, refrigerators, and aluminum or ceramic cookware/utensils; not good for anything with a finish you need to preserve).

…This is not a failing on his part. These are not things that one can know unless they're taught, or unless (like me) you're forced to learn them the hard way via trial by fire and getting punished for making mistakes.

There's no such thing as "common sense", because everyone has had wildly different upbringings with wildly different levels of engagement and attentiveness from their parents. This person is not "pathetic", as many people in my world would describe him. Rather, he has suffered a specific form of neglect by which his parents couldn't be bothered to teach him the basics, so they just took care of it for him instead.

I cannot stress enough that this is not "coddling"; this is NEGLECT. This is not him being "spoiled", this is, "teaching my kid how to do things is too hard because I either feel guilty about them doing work, or I have the patience of an angry nest of hornets, so instead of bothering with teaching and doing the emotional work to get over my shit so I can teach kindly and effectively, I'm just gonna do everything for them and disguise it as 'love', 'doting', and 'self-sacrifice' so I can pretend like I can still call myself a good parent and maybe lord it over them later if I feel they owe me something or if they try to hold me accountable for how I treated them. They're not gonna know how to be an adult by the end of it, but I'm just gonna hope they get a spouse who will either tolerate their lack of skills or pick up my slack and teach them for me."

...Related, when a parent fails to set appropriate limits for their child's behavior, this is also neglect; for some reason, though, people like to frame this, too, as "spoiling", and people wanna think that "being spoiled" is a failure on the child's part rather than a failure on the parent's, for reasons I really don't fucking understand, outside of the notion that children are yet another marginalized group of people that everyone seems to hate in my backwards-ass fucking society. And so rather than help the child shore up the skills that their parents failed to teach them, most people, when confronted with a "spoiled" child, will default to despising, shaming, and punishing them, as though the circumstances they were born to are their fault. It's absolutely fucking bananas.

When parents do not establish reasonable, natural consequences for harmful behavior, and when parents do not establish reasonable limits for the child's behavior, it forces the child to try to ascertain those limits and consequences on their own, which is a psychologically stressful task that they are literally not equipped to do, because the relevant parts of the brain have not grown in yet.

And if a child is forced to do this for a long time, guess what? It floods their little brains with adrenaline and cortisol, because a young child needs established limits, and so a lack of limits is tantamount to a lack of safety. Adrenaline and cortisol are neurotoxic, and when a child is chronically exposed to these things, it breaks down several key areas of the brain on a cellular level - like the parts responsible for empathy, cause-and-effect, emotional regulation, memory retrieval, and lots and lots more.

Unfortunately, lots of people think that the only way to establish limits and consequences with children is via violence, fear, dehumanization, and abusing the power dynamic between parent and child. Often enough, people who fail to set limits are people who don't want that for their child, but haven't the skills necessary to set limits in non-violent ways.

So people tried to find a middle ground between using coercion and force to discipline one's children, and letting them run amok. And one way to create that middle ground is via gentle parenting.

One of the common misconceptions that people have about "gentle parenting" is the notion that it means you let your kid do whatever they want, and that's not at all true; that is called "permissive parenting", and that's a completely different animal. Gentle parenting just means that you don't dehumanize your child or use fear and violence in order to discipline them.

Instead, you treat the misbehavior as a lack of skills on their part, or as a problem to be solved, and from there, you're supposed to teach the relevant skills or work together to solve the underlying problem, NOT shame or terrorize them until they fall in line, and NOT throw your hands in the air with a nervous chuckle and say "oh well; kids will be kids, lolz!"

...Anyhoot. In an attempt to explain the context of why my acquaintance needed help to use the rice cooker, I've digressed much. Let's get back on track...

I imagine that you are similar in that you weren't permitted to do much for yourself in the way of cooking or whatever else. So I will explain a few basics today, because when you finally get up out of that horrid crater so you can live a normal life (please don't give up!), there's a lot you're gonna need to know.

This is a rice cooker. Or... it's one example of a rice cooker, anyway. This one is mine:

...As you might see from the settings, it can do a lot more than just make rice. It can make porridge, steam things, and even make cakes! I've used the cake function a few times; it's not the greatest, but it's certainly not bad!

Here's what it looks like when you press the big grey button to open it up:

...As far as I know, this kind of rice cooker can only make raw rice into cooked rice; partially cooked rice (or "instant" rice) will get weird. That's because the rice cooker works by having very precise settings programmed in for the rice type, the amount of rice, and the water levels inside. If you try to use partially-cooked rice, it messes with the water content (because partially-cooked rice already has absorbed some water), and because the balance of rice-to-water will be weird, the resulting rice will be weird, too.

...Anyway. The silvery thing is the inner lid, and it comes off so it can be washed:

...Don't try to cook the rice without the inner lid, or else things won't turn out right. Make sure you wash the lid and replace it every time you use it. It's important.

The rice cooker comes with little lines on the inside of the bowl:

...These lines show you how much water to fill it with after you put the rice in. You'll see that the levels vary based on the kind of rice and consistency you want. We'll focus on the white/mixed rice meter for this.

To reiterate, because this is important: rice first, THEN water.

A rice cooker comes with a rice cup. In my experience, the rice cup is slightly different from measuring cups. Don't try to use measuring cups in place of the rice cup.

So you'll take the rice cup and scoop some rice out of your bag of raw rice. I get big ones from the nearby Asian grocery store, because regular grocery stores don't have giant bags like these, and it's cheaper to get it in bulk and store it properly than to get small amounts:

...You scoop it out like this:

...And then you level it off; this is important:

Then you dump it in the rice cooker bowl. My rice cooker can make a minimum quantity of two rice cups, so I did this twice:

...Some people wash and rinse the rice. I don't. I like it to be nice and sticky when it comes out. So what I do is I just take the the bowl out of the rice cooker...

...and fill the rice bowl (NOT the cooker itself!!!!) with water a little bit of the way, until some of the rice grains float, like this:

When I see that, I kinda shimmy the bowl around a little to get the rice to stop floating. The rice cooker works best when all of the rice has settled to the bottom of the rice bowl.

Once the rice is settled, you'll fill the bowl with water precisely to the white rice line that corresponds to how many rice cups you put in. I used two rice cups, so I fill the bowl with water until the meniscus reaches the "2" line:

From here, you'll put the rice bowl back into the rice cooker, close the lid, and press the "menu" button until the little arrow on the screen highlights what kind of rice you want.

...In this case, we'll set it to white/sushi:

Then we press the start button; it'll take about an hour for the rice to cook:

I had bacon in the fridge. And also eggs and natto, and some mushrooms I wanted to use up. So from here, I decided to make the usual thing I like to make for breakfast, when I have the energy to do it!

I started with preparing the bacon. I like to make it in the oven. You get the same results as with a frying pan or a griddle, but... with better consistency and less mess. You'll need a baking sheet lined with parchment paper so things don't stick.

...But as you can see, parchment paper doesn't stay on a baking sheet very easily. So we'll use a physics trick. We just sprinkle a little water on the baking sheet, in little droplets, with an even distribution...

...And then it'll stay on.

I got two kinds of bacon - hardwood smoked and applewood smoked. I wanted to try each to see which one I liked better:

...So I prepared two baking sheets with parchment paper. Then I arranged the bacon on it, changing the orientation for each slice so that it's more likely to fit on the sheet:

We set the oven for 400 degrees F (204.4 degrees C), stick the bacon in for 15 minutes, then swap racks, and stick it in for 15 more minutes. I'll probably opt for 12 minutes and 12 minutes next time, though; the bacon wasn't burnt, but it was very dark. I like it that way, because then it's really nice and crispy! But not everyone likes it like that.

Anyway, I also prepared eggs on the griddle. I used some rendered bacon fat that I've been saving in the fridge:

Once the eggs were done, I cooked the mushrooms on the griddle, too, because there was still some bacon fat leftover. Mushrooms soak up the flavors of whatever you cook them in quite nicely:

Once the rice was done cooking, I flavored it with a little of the chicken juices leftover from the last time I made baked chicken leg quarters:

The heat from the cooked rice melted everything quite nicely, and then I added natto:

I then made myself some tea. I combined that rose tea that I like with the vanilla bean macaron tea:

...Here; you can have some, if you want...

...The different bacons taste different. The applewood one is definitely sweeter. But I couldn't decide which one I liked better; they're both very good!

...But this is not all I did today, no. I had A LOT of energy today, for some reason; I was in very little pain today. So I decided to finally bake J a birthday cake (even though his birthday was in August; it's more than a little late, I know...)!!!!

...I've run out of space for pictures, though, so I'll include the rest in the next part of this letter.

I love you, and I'll write more in just a little bit!!

Your friend, Lumine

[crumbleclub]

I've been putting some thought into what various Aftons might be like when seriously panicked, and this is what I've got so far.

Evan:

We have the most canon information for Evan in this area

Fear makes Evan cry. In a panic, he'll cry, have difficulty breathing, pretty standard stuff.

It's not uncommon for him to lose coordination and kind of just fall over

Panics easily, but maintains awareness well enough even at his lowest points

Almost always a freeze response, even though he wants to run. Becomes as small and unnoticeable as possible, aside from occasionally trying to seek outside help. (Nobody ever helps.)

Cries nearly silently.

Shakes like a leaf when he's afraid.

Responds the best to comfort out of any of them. Literally just acknowledge that he's suffering and don't torment him further and you'll make it like 10% less bad

Give him something comforting

Elizabeth

Rarely panics. Getting her to panic would require something to be both extremely distressing and surprising, and not many surprises escape her intellect

That being said, enough stressors piled up will result in a sort of burst of frustration that's identical to what a panic attack would look like for her anyway

Fight response. So much fight response.

Throwing things, breaking things. She tends to end up destroying things she really loves, and it often makes her cry afterward.

If anyone else is present, it's yelling, starting arguements about literally anything, insulting anyone within her sight, etc etc.

It's best to give her space and a safe place to calm down without breaking anything she really cares about. She'd benefit from being given the idea of punching something soft or screaming into a pillow or something like that. Put her into martial arts also maybe?

Calms down quickly when left alone, but it makes things worse if anyone tries to engage.

She would benefit from talking about it after she's already calmed down, because at that point she's tired and sad and could use the comfort

Michael

Michael generally doesn't panic during stressful events. He panics after they've ended.

During actual stressors, Mike will either be eerily calm and rational or dissociated to the point of it being obvious to anyone around him. This is directly related to how much focus is needed to survive a scenario; his brain will protect him in the face of danger by keeping him aware, but he's more likely to have to pay for it later during the inevitable panic

He tends to panic about something small and unrelated shortly after something major happens

And Michael's panic attacks are scary.

There are less severe instances ofc but when they get really bad

It's the kind of presentation that would get emergency services called if it happened in public.

It's the ugly kind of panic attack that makes onlookers think you're actually posessed. That strangled, scream-talking that's difficult to understand, sobbing, choking when he tries to breathe, red in the face, falling on the ground– it's really, really bad. It's a huge scene every time

He's got a fight response turned inward, and he's very likely to be a harm to himself in an actual panic

Because of this, he goes out of his way to avoid any possible chance of this happening in front of anybody. He will legitimately hole up in his room for weeks if he's worried something is going to set him off

Or he'll try to trigger one on purpose so he can control the circumstances and maybe lessen the severity

The really bad ones generally don't even happen that often but they really do fuck with him

Best response for Michael: stay with him and don't act like he's the spawn of satan

The drinking water trick works to steady his breathing somewhat

His attacks generally last <10 minutes anyway just bc of the sheer amount of energy consumed, so they basically just need to be waited out

Bonus round:

William

I cannot think of a circumstance that would cause William to have an actual panic attack

That being said, he's a flight response when he's actually frightened. If he thinks his life is in danger, he'll get shaky and sweaty, and he'll run

He always tries to put on the facade of having some kind of power, but it's not always that convincing. Faced with a life or death situation, he's one of those types who would stumble backwards and fall to the ground rather than find some way to fight back

In order to be conniving, he needs the upper hand. If you want to defeat William, scare him.