#I HAVE WORK TOMORROW

[spooky-chu]

Sad bug man 😔

[yapperina]

rafayel domestic fic idea, but he's trying to get used to the reality where he's not alone anymore, and it's HARD. he spent so many years in empty houses and apartments, never feeling quite like home, haunted by the ghosts of you he had and didn't manage to keep

it's the small things that startle him the most. rafayel returns from a week-long business trip and there's no spoiled food in the fridge and you watered his plants. the jacket he dropped somewhere on the floor in his haste to get to the airport on time is now hanging from the back of a chair. you were there at some point and now you are not, but he can call you and look at you and hear your voice, because you are real and he has you again. sometimes he feels like this simple truth is too much to take in, completely overwhelmed by it

[iyohme]

and i know that you mean so well;

but i am not a vessel for your good intent!

("Tongues and Teeth," - The Crane Wives)

my serotonin got jetpack bursted into the stratosphere with this blurb by OP. Your brain is so juicy and moist and wrinkly OP. Godspeed. I'm not even into DC but the whole "Burnt out and neglected, and now a bunch of people driven by guilt guilt guilt want me back so they can feel less guilty?" just made the racoon in me rub its hands menacingly hoho

Just imagine not even living your best life; just a shadow in the lives of the illustrious Waynes, a ghost in a castle, visible only to the loyal servant and the occasional curious paparazzi who shrugs and looks away--after all, there was no mention of you in any occasion: must be the kid of in-house staff. How nice of Brucie Wayne to allow even the children of in-house staff the opportunity to study at such a high-end college! (The reporters chortle and snicker at your barely-passing marks, sighing at such a wasted opportunity. Oh well. And then they move on to the tabloid topic of the week, after the strutting socialites and the rich and the arrested Rogues.)

You gather things.

You gather pieces of a cracked dream, a single plastic teacup you had brought into the cavernous mansion the day you held Alfred's old, gnarled hand. Ears ringing and slippers still stained with your parent's blood as they were gunned down before your very eyes. You gather your things, what made you before you were "Wayne," so to say. Your mother's old cigarette box, smuggled from the crime scene, your one memento of the woman who you could not forget but never forgive.

A juxtaposition of love and hate, forever crucified. The image of the Virgin Mary inside the tin box seems to be a mockery of faith, across from her image lying cheap cigarettes.

You gather test papers, all barely passing and with more reds than blacks, and grind them up into strips with the shredder you had brought; just one time the black card Wayne had given you, and it left the bitterest, sourest aftertaste in your mouth. They burn so cozily on the school Bunsen burners, especially when sprayed with alcohol, immediately immolating like timelapse sparkler videos. You gather your name before the Incident, you cherish it, and you repeat the syllables in the dead of night, spilling past your mouth. Even if it was the name of a child-abusing monster, it was still yours, and it was still of use.

And use it, you would.

While they go and be a family, you work to begin yours.

You gather funds: it's easy to take on odd jobs when people do not suspect you. You tuck away that black card at the bottom of your study table drawers, forgotten there like scribbled-out pages of an essay, an unfinished drawing, and leftover candy wrappers. It's a bit-by-bit work, but you know the Waynes wouldn't even see it happening. Your brothers and sisters (an absurdly alien concept, as they don't even acknowledge you exist ninety-five percent of the time) are prodigies paraded around at every event. You are the unseen ghost flitting through their shadows.

Graduation comes and goes. It's laughably easy to falsify having lost your social security number and other documents--Gotham is that much of a shithole, you suppose. The man in the cowl notwithstanding. His efforts are admirable, but weak. Recidivism is common in this place, as if there were some sort of pull that incited the people in Gotham to cruelty, to madness.

It's absurdly Lovecraftian, in its own way.

You are not even living your best life, and yet you are free. Alfred knows; he always knows. If you are The Ghost, then the aged butler is a man one step between the doors of death, and he sees you every time you move. Your room is empty, and he raises an eyebrow at your satchel: all your items already stored elsewhere or given away.

("I suppose this was a long time coming, Little Master."

Tap tap tap. Footsteps on marble floors, setting sun.

You shrug. "Eh. The Waynes gave me a roof and education. It's all good."

You grunt. "Well, people change. Like you know, how kids being gifted stop being gifted when they grow older." You say, instead of 'Well, if a child doesn't get any praise or attention if they do good and probably even less if they were bad, why even bother?')

A pause. "Your academics were not so lackluster when you were younger."

You promise to try and stay in touch. (You crossed your fingers behind your back.) You leave, sunset on your face.

The nap you had in a dingy hotel with far too many odd stains and not enough locks you could put on was the soundest you've ever slept in years.

Freedom smells like summer air and the last rays of sun, followed by the cold blue hour.

It takes three months for an out-of-state college to accept you. It's far from Gotham. It has a dormitory. Excellent. While you were indeed a mediocre academic student, you had banked everything on band scholarships.

Who knew more than a hundred clarinet players had unclaimed scholarships yearly? Packing up your small life in bags, you take a train upwards to another state.

(Meanwhile, in Gotham, there is an odd sense of unease as Bruce Wayne stops by an inconspicuous door. It's relatively clean, as expected of his manor, but the worn out brass on the handle suggests that someone had lived there before. He opens the door. Steps in. A bed, a dresser, a study table. Bare bones.

The unease intensifies. But who?)

Someone had lived in here, yes.

[benevolenterrancy]

@ everyone one who's been watching me read my way through SVSSS v3: YOU LET ME MAKE STUPID MEMES AND VORE JOKES WHILE I NAIVELY PRANCED MY WAY TOWARDS CHPT 21???? (;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ᗩ ⁠༎ຶ)

"heh heh what a silly stupid isekai parody," chuckles the idiot about to fall into the unseen pit of agony

"oh boy oh boy a kickass final boss fight :D I can't wait!!" both me and SQQ who are EQUALLY DUMB AS SHIT APPARENTLY AAAUGH

[moo-blogging]

Idk i cant help but think about the moment before falling asleep with Levi. Just two of us, silent, in our dark bedroom.

The moments before you drift into slumber, the calm you feel with Levi by your side. After years of being together, you now found the perfect position to end your day with each other. You no longer attach to each other like in the beginning of your relationship.

You both sleep on your backs, side by side. You no longer tangle yourselves like new lovers where being together was more important than quality sleep. Instead, now you sleep slightly lower than Levi just to rest your cheek on his shoulder. Levi has one leg over yours.

Levi never forgets to kiss your head before sleep claims him. Now you are officially in your old couple era :)

Oh, and Levi needs to have the little plushie that you got for him by his other side. And he would pat its head every night before bed too :) he knew one day he would have to lose the fight with your daughter when she's old enough to realise the plushie is cute (when you have a daughter) (he will make sure you have at least 1 little girl ;))

[babielinny]

I FUCKING LOVE DOODLING IN MY LITTLE DIARY. FUCK !!!!!

[phivega]

Me trying to sleep tonight but the only thing I can think about is blonde phil

[konpyuuuta]

doodles

[randombrowngirl]

Can’t sleep

[astersghost]

Having chronic conditions is so stupid like what do you mean I currently have debilitating pain in my toes. Granted my hip, fingers, lower back, knees, shoulder, and elbow also hurt a ridiculous amount too atm but my fucking toes ??? What did they do???

[otterwithatophat]

Y'all my voice is completely gone. I sound like someone ran my vocal cords through a washing machine

[overheard-at-camp-half-blood]

I will admit… Thalia isn’t my favorite character of all time. I don’t hate her… she’s just never been one of my favorites.

That being said, I am going to defend her a little bit, because I think I understand what they are trying to do with her character in the show.

So this episode, Annabeth told Percy that she had to “earn” Thalia’s love. Now, there’s a few things that we have to keep in mind.

Annabeth was seven.

Up until this point in her life, she had to earn everyone’s affection, her mother’s. Her stepmother’s. So from her seven year old perspective, even if that was not Thalia was doing, it makes sense why she would come to that conclusion.

Now, this is also Annabeth’s perspective, and we don’t have Thalia’s perspective yet- but we do have one other person’s perspective: Luke’s.

According to Luke, they were hesitant in taking Annabeth in at first because they didn’t want to put her in danger. Which makes sense, because she was a seven, and Thalia, being a child of Zeus, was constantly attracting monsters.

So once she proved she could fight, they let her join. So I don’t think it was so much about Annabeth earning her affection as it was Thalia not wanting to endanger a seven year old. Annabeth, probably interpreted Thalia trying to protect her, as her trying to earn her affection.

Also, it kind of sets up part of the arc for the third season, when Percy and Thalia are constantly fighting. The whole motivation for them going on the quest was to find Annabeth (technically Artemis, but Percy did not give a shit about her, and Thalia despised the hunters at this point in the story).

I think it would kind of put them at odds, if one of the only things Percy knew about Thalia was that she was kind of a dick to his (future girl)friend in the past.

[erigold13261]

(Post TADC/Culling Games arc, Eriverse) Satoru: So... what did we miss? Shoko: I kissed a cockroach entity. Ended up healing it. (Funny idea I had while reading that last post)

This was the immediate thought I had to draw out! (take these designs with a grain of salt).

What's not pictured: Dagon asking if Kurourushi and Smallpox Deity were okay with the kiss and Shoko making the Soul Eater Excalibur face to their question.

[part-time-potato]

Getting started on I.N!

(reblogging is always welcome and appreciated ❤️)

[possamble]

im finishing this fucking thing tonight if its the last thing i do

[ashecampos]

save me from my own gender identity

(PLEASE THE WAY I CAN NEVER GET THE RIGHT SKIN TONE WHEN PAINTING I SWEAR IT WILL BE MY DOWNFALL)

also the painting is not done, and yes I will be sewing over my painting :)

Love the tits outta you guys 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼