#also this fic is kinda old

[ibahibut]

💀: Fewer wounds, more kisses from me.

🐦‍⬛: Contract's accepted, mi amor.

Music inspiration: A Little Death by The Neighbourhood

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[basil--and--sage]

Uncle Thorin headcanons nobody can dissuade me from, part 2: young uncle Thorin

(part 1), (Dwalin)

during Dís' pregnancies he acts like a rock for her and her nervous husband, while he is secretly terrified when she goes into labour

he weeps the first time he gets to hold his nephews (and the 10 times afterwards)

he handles Fíli like a bomb in the beginning, because he is scared of accidently dropping or hurting him

after Fíli is weaned and Kíli is born, Dís and her husband have a hard time, since Kíli is a very restless baby. To give them some more breathing room, little Fíli spends the next few years in a sling tied around Thorin's chest and accompanies him everywhere. Thorin is more than a little sad, when this time ends, but fortunately soon Kíli is weaned and then Thorin gets to carry him around everywhere

he gives them cute nicknames. Fíli is his jewel and Kíli his gem.

he goes into crisis mode whenever one of the lads coughs more than once (fortunately Óin is very patient)

when Fíli and Kíli are small, they often climb into his bed at night, for example when they are cold or scared. It usually ends with Thorin waking up with at least one of Kíli's feet in his face or an elbow in his gut

he cuddles the two all the time and after little Gimli is born, he gets the same treatment

whenever all of them get together, Thorin usually ends up with three Dwarflings on his lap. (he found a way to stack them. Dís doesn't know what to think about that)

the only reason Fíli and Kíli don't call him adad is the fact, that Thorin would never claim that title out of respect for his late brother-in-law

when they are all of a sudden grown-ups, he sorely misses the time when they were small enough to sit on his knee or come running for a hug

he has a box hidden under his bed with his nephews' old things. He gets a little misty-eyed whenever he looks at their tiny baby boots. (one time he shows them to Dwalin, which ends with both of them sobbing. They don't speak of this afternoon)

he is in general a lot more affectionate and caring with them than on the quest, which is one of the reasons Fíli and Kíli are disturbed by his behaviour starting in mirkwood

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I CAN'T CLOSE MY EYES ALONE ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep. 

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there. 

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek. 

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue. 

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub. 

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow. 

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting. 

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes. 

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic. 

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him. 

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn. 

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it. 

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow. 

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid. 

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do. 

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help. 

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression. 

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two. 

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless. 

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly. 

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue. 

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress. 

and satoru stifles a coo. 

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek �� recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu. 

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology. 

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him. 

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

[ruvviks]

'I never meant for things to turn out like they did,' Nick mumbled, burying his face in Vitali's chest. 'Never meant for any of it to go wrong.' 'I know,' Vitali merely said back, eyes absently fixed on the wall as he ran his fingers through Nick's hair. 'I'm sorry.' 'I know.' 'I love you.' 'I know.' They both paused— Vitali hesitant, Nick optimistically expectant; but the reciprocation remained unspoken, emotions and feelings stuck in the back of Vitali's throat and the three words lingering between them like the smoke of his cigarette. He wasn't sure if he would even mean it anyway.

taglist (opt in/out)

@nistarot, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @mojaves;

@shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption, @ncytiri;

@calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm, @strafethesesinners;

@fashionablyfyrdraaca, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian, @estevnys, @devilbrakers;

@aezyrraesh, @carlosoliveiraa, @adelaidedrubman, @fromgotham, @wardenevka;

@samuraifics

[friendlynaborhooddisapointment]

yk what im thinking? the fentons are 100% crazy enough to be Waynes. so what if they were? Jack could be Thomas Waynes' great-grandfather's brother who lived at Wayne Manor with his wife and kids. and they still open the portal with danny in it, so hes still a halfa. but either Jack and Maddie find out and they stick him in a stasis tube to try and fix him (what if they were also the people who figured out how to make the court of owls dead guys????) or Danny got stuck in the portal when he went inside and it doesnt open until the bats find it.

when the bats find him im thinking either they know (as well as danny) that hes half dead (the stasis tube) or they dont (stuck in the portal) and they find out all the fun stuff together. but, if they know hes dead already and so did danny there could be more creepy ghost shenanigans that could happen before they found the laboratory. which is v important

[nach0]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @deathricedrawn!!

honestly i'm surprised i haven't drawn fanart before since i've been reading this fic since the beginning (almost 3 years ago now!) but these latest chapters have started to dredge the corgem hyperfixation back up from the depths

i hope you're having a wonderful day today, and happy birthday again!!

[add1ctedt0you]

An interesting theme, imo, in mdzs is the sheer tiredness you must feel when dealing with someone who, having been dead for more than a decade, is still the same person as before, while you aren't anymore.

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

Reset.

An ability where, if Cale believes, he can reset a condition in his body. It’s a temporary fix, but if he keeps his resolution strong, he can “spam” reset all of his body’s conditions for days. He can also temporarily boost his strength, but only by a small amount.

Choi Han and Cale go on a mission and Choi Han gets his legs broken and torn up. Cale has to carry him through a desert for over a day, nonstop, while Choi Han watches in horror as Cale keeps repeating

“I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m awake, I’m strong, I’m okay, I’m not tired, I’m not sore, I’m okay, I’m strong, I’m fine-“

Over, and over, and over again. Unable to do anything but keep going because they need to get back to their base and resting will only waste time.

They make it back in the middle of the night, Choi Han unconscious, with Cale continuing to strongly declare that he’s perfectly fine. Raon bursts out of the house just in time, and when Cale sees Raon, he finally collapses.

For a day, Cale sleeps, mumbling the things he had been repeating for a full day. It’s incredibly depressing and no one can even feel angry about Cale’s unhealthy behavior, because it’s clear how it is a deeply subconscious reaction to his environment.

When he wakes up, it’s because he said “I’m awake.” Everyone stares at him. He says again, “I’m okay,” but no one says anything.

He’s breathing heavily and his eyes aren’t focused, continuing his mantra like it’s the only thing keeping him stable.

“Cale-nim.”

He looks toward Choi Han’s serious voice, and for brief moment he hesitates, before reaffirming “I’m alright.”

He looks down to Choi Han’s legs, which have been healed by now. “You’re alright,” he breathes a sigh of relief. “Everything’s alright.”

“No it’s not!” Raon cracks and throws himself into Cale’s arms. “You’re not okay! Choi Han isn’t okay! No one is okay right now!”

Cale’s eyes blur, and everyone watches with a horrified fascination as his eyes fall half-mast. “No, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m- I’m awake, I’m- I’m- I’m fine and I’m safe…”

“No, you’re not,” Choi Han grabs Cale’s hand and forces his eyes to look at him. “You aren’t okay, you’re hurt and you won’t let yourself heal.” He pauses. “Is this an ability?”

Cale nods, “So that I’m okay. I can keep being okay if I’m like this,” he squeezes his hand, but Choi Han squeezes harder.

“Cale-nim, what happens when you release it? Does it hurt?” Cale flinches, stuttering another ‘I’m fine’ before he replies.

“Everything that I’ve Reset comes back twice as hard. I’d be unconscious for at least two days, maybe three. I’m okay, I can be okay until everything is over. I don’t have a limit for how long I can stay like this. I’m alright, I can do this-“

Choi Han clenches his other fist. This smart but stupid guy…

“Cale, we already have plans.” Eruhaben cuts him off. “We can handle things without you. A dragon can do this much, so trust us.” Cale’s chest shudders, struggling to continue to be fine.

“I trust you, I trust everyone- I just can’t let anyone get hurt. No… no, no, no one can get hurt. I’m not hurt. I’m fine- I’m okay, okay…”

Raon whines, quivering in his humans arms. This hasn’t happened before, it doesn’t make sense. His human makes no sense, none at all!…

“Raon, go to Eruhaben-nim,” Choi Han orders softly. “I’ll take care of Cale-nim.” Eruhaben and Choi Han make eye contact. They nod.

With Raon out of Cale’s arms, he crawls over and sits next to him. Cale can only weakly struggle as Choi Han settles Cale’s head on his lap. Choi Han forces Cale to look into his eyes.

“Choi Han, I’m okay…!-“

“I’m not okay.” Cale’s pupils shake. “Say it. I’m not okay.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay…”

Patiently, Choi Han repeats it again, over and over. Cale can only look into Choi Han’s steady eyes and fight against it.

After a long, agonizing minute, Cale stutters. “I- I’m-… It’s going to hurt. Choi Han it’s…”

Choi Han places a hand on Cale’s forehead. “It’s scary. It’s going to hurt because you aren’t okay, but it’s not bad to struggle. Cale-nim, please… you’re already hurting.”

Cale pinches his eyes shut.

“…” His lungs shudder. “You… you’re right…” his eyes open, “I am..." his eyes unfocus. "-fine. I'm fine."

Choi Han bites his lip. "You are hurt."

"I'm not."

"You are tired."

"I'm okay, I'm awake," Cale grinds out the words from between his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "Until everything is over, Choi Han, I have to be."

"You don't."

Cale's breath shudders, back arching to get away as Choi Han lays his hand over Cale's eyes.

"Wait, no-" with his other hand, Choi Han puts his thumb between Cale's teeth. Cale protests, grabbing Choi Han's wrist and trying to pull it away, but he was never a match for Choi Han's strength. His cries are muffled and arguing, something that Choi Han isn't used to hearing, and his expression is screwed tightly. Cale isn't one to be scared. It's strange how something like this can affect him so much.

Unable to say his mantra, it isn't long before Cale's body goes limp. Bruises bloom rapidly over his arms, and though he has pants on, Choi Han is sure that there are colorful bruises on his legs too.

His thumb doesn't even have a dent from where Cale had been biting at it. Though, for someone so upset, he didn't put much effort into it. There's some saliva on it, but Choi Han simply wipes it off onto his clothes.

Gently, he sweeps his hand over Cale's hair. His closed eyes, revealed to the world, have new dark circles under them, deep and with a purple and blue hew. His skin is pale and sweaty with a fever, no doubt from his bodies quick attempt to recover from the damage.

Cale said a few days but Choi Han had a feeling this wouldn't be such a short coma.

He swallows dryly.

This was definitely... a new side of their commander.

(Written Jan 17, 2023)

[spiderin-space]

Woomy…?

[lovesickeros]

☆ the dove

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings violence, blood {☆} word count 0.7k

Her hands are weapons, forged in a tragedy as much as a war of ash and blood that seeps into the earth and rots it from within. To them, however, she is salvation. Her hands are a kindness, not a threat. She sees it in their puffy, red eyes just brimming with tears, their fragile body so delicate and weak is still remains marred by wounds new and old – the gold still stains their skin, even long after it had been washed away.

She has seen it all – and she takes the injured dove beneath her wing with the sickly sweet promise that someday she shall mend its broken wings and teach it to fly again.

And in their stupor, they do not see her clip their wings.

It is for the best.

The wolves still salivate below the nest, waiting for her little dove to fall again – no, she shall not send her little bird to fly when it will just fall into their waiting maws once again.

This..this one is hers, she has decided.

Her little bird who dreams of the sky and the woman who clips their wings..what a tragic pair they must make, she thinks.

Not for her, of course. Yet not to them, either, unaware of the way she grounds them and keeps the key to their cage tightly in her fist.

"Tsaritsa?" The soft, meek lilt of the little bird draws her from her reverie, and she smiles – all teeth and little else, wolfish and predatory.

Yet the bird sees nothing but love in the sharp points of her canines.

As it was meant to be.

"Yes, little bird?"

She coos in honeyed tones, brushing her cold, cold hands against their skin, reveling in the way they shiver and shake beneath the ever present chill in her very bones. They do not fear the claws that ghost across their skin, and the smile they offer that illuminates their eyes like stars only proves her right – she wants to devour them whole. To see the stars in their eyes burn out beneath her teeth, their golden blood burn upon her tongue and down her throat.

"You promised to take me to the gardens today, remember?"

Her pearly, sharpened fangs peer out beneath her lips as she grins wider, unnerving to all but the little bird who sees not the wolf but the wool it wears, her hands finding their place upon their shoulders as she whispers into their ear.

She will guide her little bird where they cannot go, where their clipped wings cannot take them.

She will give them that bittersweet taste of freedom and then watch them try to catch the stars..

Just to drag them back down to earth where they belong.

"Of course, Creator – I am a woman of my word, am I not?"

Such sickly sweet lies come to her with ease – she lies and she lies and they do not see past the woolen cloak of the wolf until its jaw has snapped around its throat and its blood has painted the world a shimmering gold.

She will delight in that, too.

"If I may be so bold, Creator, you have been distant lately..have you grown tired of me already?"

Her words were as sharp as a blade, yet as dull as a rock, as sweet as they were dangerous. Like watching a mouse trap luring in its prey, she would snap it shut as soon as the little bird strayed too close.

"No! No, that's not..you've just been busy lately, I didn't want to intrude."

They remind her so much of a rabbit in those moments, and she so badly wants to know what would happen if she just took a small, insignificant bite..yet she restrains herself with a far too wide smile, her jaw clenched so hard she almost thinks they will hear it creak.

"Intrude? You could ever hardly intrude, Creator – what is mine is yours. Though, perhaps I shall have to lock you in my room to ensure you compensate me for depriving me of your presence."

In just a few short words, she snares the rabbit – her little bird, her Creator. They will see nothing but the sickly sweet lure of her smile, letting out a pretty laugh of their own as they press closer, like a bird wandering into the open maw of the beast lying in wait.

"As long as it has a nice view, I suppose I won't mind."

They jest, but she does not. And oh, how easy it is to ensnare an unsuspecting prey.

"Of course, Creator – just for you."

It won't be long until her little bird returns to its gilded cage, now. Permanently.

It is better that way.

[vv-ispy]

anyway my other venti's history shaping how he is headcanon is that as a wisp he was rarely taken seriously — people are kind to him and will put faith in him due to his being an elemental being, but between a little wind wisp vs a storm god, the wisp isn't doing much they're in the middle of the archon war, great strong gods are getting struck down all the time. (Even later as a god he's seen as the weakest god, possibly the god with the unlikiest of origins out of a group who were gods and powerful being before reaching archonhood)

But the bard treats him not as a contender, not as a god candidate, not even as their hope to take down Decarabian but as a friend.

So he doesn't take himself seriously either, he knows he has the power now yes but habits remain and he doesn't want to be a tyrannt, and in the end the most impactful relationship in his life will always be the bard who treated him not for his role or his potential but as a friend to love and cherish and understand

[tyanis]

Been reminiscing about old RE fan fics that are likely lost to time again...

There was this one that I read around... 2003? Something like that. It took place 2 years after Code Veronica and had Wesker going through with his threat to bring back an infected Steve. Except Steve wasn't the big hulking monster this time. He was more like how Alexia is typically depicted. Like, her first form or whatever. And he could speak and stuff but was all evil now.

He could also emit pheromones.

Sexy pheromones.

To use to trap his prey.

With horniness.

And not just general horniness.

Horniness towards HIM.

Now... this wasn't what you would call a smut fic. And it wasn't crack either.

It was over 30 chapters long, surprisingly mature, and had a shockingly tasteful sex scene with Leon and Claire about halfway through. They even practised safe sex. Which is kinda rare in fics NOW.

Anyway, near the end Steve walked into a room with some of our heroes in it and his horny fumes affected Rebecca, Claire... And Leon.

Long story short, Leon ended up losing an eye.

[squarebracketsmileyface]

IMAGINE! High school sweethearts/early college Brim - personally i dont think Tim would be able to get on T until he can get a job to pay out of pocket (because you know the system isn’t exactly LGBT friendly) - so Brian gets to watch Tim’s t-dick grow the longer he’s on T over time aaaa

i get Sweaty thinking about Brian pushing Tim’s legs back to get a good view of his pussy, and seeing that cute lil thing get bigger and bigger and telling Tim he’s ‘getting to be such a big boy’ to fluster Tim and make him feel good about himself :D and then Brian comments about how much easier it gets to stroke/suck his dick as it grows aaa

Also, god forgive me, but something about the whole ‘getting to be such a big boy’ in terms of Tim’s dick just gives me DOPAMINE. like its that perfect dose of affection and dominance that kills me :D

Oooooooooooooo yes

I love Tim and Brian being highschool sweethearts so much, and them in college/uni is like, so perfect. Tim definitely wouldn't be on T til he could pay for it himself, you're right, I think it'd be once he was in his second year of uni that he started T, so (going off my made up Sorry, It's Locked timeline) during their first year, when they were helping Alex with his film project, he wouldn't have been on T until like, at earliest right at the end of that year I think.

Okay, rest of it's under the thingy since it's NSFW, in case you don't wanna see that

Anyway, whenever it happens, he goes on T after he and Brian have already been just quietly dating for a while, so Brian is veryyyyyy familiar with how he looks down there (Brian being very enthusiastic about giving oral is a huge headcanon of mine) and Tim starts seeing changes pretty early on, like bottom growth is one of the first changes he sees. And like, Brian's his boyfriend, so of course he's gonna tell him about it and wanna show him, because this is something he's wanted for ages, and he needs to know he isn't going mad and just imagining it because he's so excited for the changes he knows T can bring.

Brian's 100% on board, he'd never say no to being able to get his head between his boyfriend's legs. I think he'd definitely use it as an excuse to suck him off, like he'd make some dumb joke about "hmm I dunno, I can't see any difference... You should lemme suck you off, I know what your dick feels like better than I know what it looks like". Tim would find it horrendously endearing and would also laugh at Brian for the world's worst pickup line. He'd let Brian suck him off though.

I do like to think it'd go silly wrong just that first time tho, like not badly wrong, everything's fine. It's just like, y'know, bottom growth can be sensitive AF and Brian jumps straight into sucking Tim's dick and ends up almost getting kneed in the head because it's wayyyyyyyy too much and Tim ends up needing to pull Brian off and be like "okay I'm done, fucking hell, yeah no that's a lot I'm gonna need like two to three business days". They kinda have to refigure out oral as Tim's dick grows on T, especially since at first it's very sensitive just cos it's like, so new I guess, and the anticipation for it feeling different then makes it feel even more sensitive cos Tim's thinking about it so much lol.

At first they actually end up kinda leaving his dick alone as much as possible, like Brian will still look at it and compliment it and stuff like that definitely, but his actual effort is all focussed around eating Tim out rather than sucking him off, y'know? Like, if he accidentally bumps up against Tim's dick, that's fine, but for the most part it's getting his tongue inside him rather than his lips around him, y'know?

Eventually tho, Brian gets to suck him off properly for the first time, and he's fucking obsessed with it. Tim practically drowns him he's holding him in place with his hands and thighs so tight. Brian 100% uses that "getting to be so big" line right before he actually gets his mouth on him, and Tim pretty much dies, because it's so hot, and Brian's got his arms under and hooked round his thighs to pull him closer and hold him in place even while Tim's still shuddering trying to relax into it and get used to how overwhelming it feels.

Tim has the best night of his life so far and by the end of it he's so shaky it's actually laughable.

Like, Brian sucks him off, makes him cum like that, and then gets his dick inside him, and they're in a position that every time Brian thrusts in his pelvis smacks and grinds right against Tim's dick, and with how sensitive he is right now that makes him clench so tight around him. Like, Brian's in heaven, and he barely wiped his mouth before he started fucking Tim, so they're making out through it and Tim's just tasting himself.

Like, they both have the best time playing with Tim's t-dick after that, Brian develops a fondness for cockwarming him. Tim will be doing something in his room and Brian will just come in and push his legs apart so he can nose at his cunt, and Tim will just sigh like he's being a nuisance and push his trousers and pants down so Brian can get himself properly situated and just lie or sit there with Tim's dick in his mouth, sucking it gently every now and again.

He uses that "you're getting to be so big" line so often during that. Like, he jokes that it's just him keeping an eye on "how everything's going down there" and he'll make comments every time like he can actually tell the difference day to day. Like, logically, there's no noticeable size difference day by day, but he'll always say there is just to get Tim all flustered and to tell him to shut up all embarrassed.

Also Brian kisses the tip of Tim's dick every time he pulls off for the night.

They've definitely made the tips of their dicks kiss too, just because they thought it'd be funny. I think one of them would have taken a photo, just to have it. It's like the first and last photo of them having sex that they ever take lol, but they just both really love the look of Tim's dick next to Brian's.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Chapter 1 and 2 are kinda written already. So as a little teasing, may I present you THE Cas and Dean involved in that Summer AU fic:

And here's a little snippet:

“Sam! Sammy!” He calls and then he reaches the side with the view on the beach. He spots Sam at the back of the open veranda, playing cards with Jo and Ash. “Sam, Jo, Ash! Let’s get ready to go to the beach.” Dean suggests as his eyes finally scan the room. There’s Chuck, Amara and Gabriel there, so Dean smiles at them. Then his eyes end on the other guy sitting with them. “Hi.” He greets quietly. He doesn’t even know if he heard him because he doesn’t answer, he just smiles back and Dean thinks he never saw something as beautiful as this.

“Dean? You comin’?” Sam calls out. His little brother walked past him and he didn't even realize it until now.

“Huh - yeah!” He says, turning away and following his little brother.