#and I didn’t like the comp flipped

[sorisketches]

[mikeystrawberry]

Today is Dungeons & Daddies’s 5th Anniversary!

I haven’t been listening for nearly that long but the podcast and all its characters means a lot to me. Happy Anniversary!!!

Throwing the cropped sections under the cut because there’s a lot of stuff going on and I know Tumblr likes to throw half the pixel quality out the window. And also so I can ramble a bit about this piece!!!

This piece has been months in the making, possibly an entire year. And by that I mean I’ve had a sketch of the comp scribbled on my whiteboard for ages because I wanted to save this specifically for 5th anni art. Now onto design stuff!

(First off a random thought: I really love how the garlic knot came out, I kind of want it as an enamel pin.)

I knew I wanted to make this a stained glass piece since the beginning, but I was also going to add flowers at one point but quickly dropped the idea. It felt like too much and I also didn’t want to fuss over flower language assignments for everyone. I was also going to add Doodler tentacles, but also dropped that idea pretty early. Kind of on accident, right at the end, I figured out how to make it even more stained glass-like but taking a duplicated lineart underneath the regular layer and turning the brightness all the way down, then setting it to overlay and adding a guassian blur. It’s very subtle but it adds that tiny bit of depth that makes it look more real. As for shading on the lineart/gold, I tried adding more highlight on the characters who died but once I evened everything out it wasn’t as noticeable anymore so I’m throwing that thought here so the attempt at least known lol.

The order of characters only changed a little bit from my original comp, I flipped the Wilsons and the Oaks so the rainbow could work. As for the anchors, specifically in season 2, I lined them up to the teens since the season 1 anchors lined up with each dad:

Tony —> Scary: his death was the beginning of Scary’s betrayal arc and also Willy killed him.

Guitar Pick —> Taylor: it’s not really aligned with Taylor at all, but the anchor was with Glenn so I put it next to his blunt.

Scroll —> Normal: was only because it was the last left to give him, but there’s the whole scene of him and Hermie in the Green Room so it still works!

Garlic Knot —> Link: one of two that he broke, but the more significant of the two with him telling Grant he never wants to see him again.

Small notes on the season 1 anchors: I put the layer of mold in the overnight oats but you can’t really tell with the overlay. And to make the supper bowl more interesting I added the fantasy sodas mix they dumped into it. The lure of actually drawn before so I just traced my own art lol.

As for the other smaller triangles, it took me a bit to figure out what I wanted to put there. I didn’t even think of adding the vehicles until two days ago but I’m so glad I did. I don’t really have my own take on the mascot version of the Doodler (yet?) so I borrowed the design from one of the stickers in their merch shop. Teeny was terrifying as just a front facing head so I made him cute again.

In the outer circles, I put what I felt was the most significant quotes for each family. I really wanted to use “It’s okay to be angry, it’s not okay to be cruel” but it was just a little too long.

That’s all I can think of! If you read all the way through, thank you for indulging me in my excitement to gush over this piece.

[imbored1201]

Barca fem x reader

Beach day with everyone? Ideas: Mapi throws reader into reader, Lucy teaches reader how to play volleyball, volleyball comp between everyone?, alexia scolding reader for not applying more sunscreen, alexia being very mum basically, reader plays chicken, just beachy stuff! Not pressure I’m sure your busy writing just thought I’d suggest something

Beach Shenanigans

Barcelona Femeni x Teen Reader

Word Count: 1,330

 

You didn't want to be here, you would rather be using your day off to play video games, but you got dragged over here to the beach on a sunny day for team bonding.

You heavily despised Mapi right now since it was her idea in the first place, and she knew you didn't like her right now either. Considering the way she was grinning at you.

You glared at her the whole time, even when Alexia was putting sunscreen all over your face.

"Don't start with the attitude, Carino; have fun." Alexia tried, but you simply huffed and stormed far away from the team to make a sand castle. 

Before you could start and open your little sandcastle toy set Lucy bought you, it was snatched away. "Hey!" You looked up and rolled your eyes, Lucy. 

"Ona thinks she could beat me at volleyball, so we're playing a game, and I need five people." "I don't know how to play."

"Kid, I don't care, all you do is hit the ball and make sure it doesn't hit the ground. Now hurry up so I can get Ingrid and Fridolina. We need the tall girls; you go get Irene." You nodded as she ran into the water to where Frido and Ingrid were.

"Shit," you cursed when you saw Ona already talking to Irene. Lucy would kill you if you came back without her. Quickly thinking, you grabbed a rock and set it down in front of you, then sat down. 

"Ow!" You yelled, and Irene, of course, having that mom instinct, quickly turned to your direction. "Irene!" You yelled for her, and she was quick to run to you. "What happened?" She asked as she kneeled beside you. 

"I stubbed my toe because of this dumb rock," you pouted, and she patted your back. "You’re being dramatic again, aren't you?" She was already used to this; you did the exact same thing towards the end of training to get out of running. 

You nodded. "Lucy told me to ask you to be on our team for volleyball." Irene nodded as she helped you up and led you to where Lucy was with Frido and Ingrid, who were drying up now. 

You smirked as you turned around to where Ona was standing in disbelief and flipped her off. 

—————

The teams were settled; it was you, Lucy, Irene, Fridolina, and Ingrid against Ona, Salma, Patri, Cata, and Pina. 

“Look, do what I’m doing,” you copied Lucy’s hands, “or you can spike it.” You tried to look like you understood what she was saying, but you didn’t. 

You didn't even hit the ball once. Mostly because, when you tried, Lucy would push you out of the way to get it. 

You guys did win, though. "Losers," you told Pina and Patri. "You didn't even do anything," Patri pointed out. "I still won though, and you two are still losers," you shrieked as they tried grabbing you and ran off. 

You went back to your old spot and went back to building sand castles, but of course, you couldn't get at least 10 minutes of peace. 

Mapi came running up to you and decided to tackle you. "Ew, Mapi, get off. Your all wet," she got off you and stood up. 

"Come on, let's go swimming." She jumped up and down like a child. You shook your head and threw the toy shovel straight at her face. 

"That's it!" you shrieked as she forced you up and threw you over her shoulder. "Mapi! No!" You yelled as she full-on sprinted to the water. "Yes!" She yelled back as she threw you into the water.

Ingrid quickly grabbed you to help you stand. "Mapi! You could have hurt her," she said as she patted your back. "She's fine." Mapi patted you on the head. "I didn't want to wet my hair," you whined.

"We're at the beach, Carino; have some fun, this is one of those rare moments where Alexia lets you leave her side," she had a point. 

"Only for a couple of minutes," Mapi nodded and grabbed you and suplexed you, getting another scolding from Ingrid. 

You were done after one last push from Mapi, you rushed out of the water. Mumbling curse words under your breath. 

"Bebe!" Alexia yelled for you. You put your innocent smile back on and walked over to her. She threw a towel at you and motioned for you to sit by her. 

When you saw the sunscreen, you tried leaving again, but she grabbed your arm. "You're going to get burned if you don't put more on, and I don't want you crying the whole day over being sunburnt," she ranted, applying sunscreen to your face. 

"Now go and behave," you nodded and pouted as you saw Patri and Pina over where your sandcastle was still in the process of being built, playing with the volleyball around it. 

"Hey!" You yelled as you ran over there to push them away. "Let's play monkey in the middle," Pina said. "No," you told them sternly, sitting down to build your sand castle. 

"Yes," Patri forced you to stand up. "Patri no," you whined, "yes, get it." She threw the ball to Pina, as you ran to get Pina, she threw it back to Patri. 

That made you mad; now you were determined to get that dumb ball and throw it far into the ocean. You tackled Patri, who laughed, and threw it to Pina. 

After six more dumb attempts at trying to get the ball, you gave up. "This isn't fair," you pointed out. "Don't be a sore loser," Patri teased.

"Let me build my sandcastle; I want to make a kingdom." They shook their heads and decided to start doing some keep-ups. Near your castle.

Again. Not even 10 minutes later. 

"Kid! Get over here!" You heard Fridolina yell at you. You groaned as Pina lost control of the volleyball, and it landed straight into your sandcastle. 

"Sorry!" She quickly said, and hid behind Patri. You grabbed the ball and threw it at Alexia, who was sun bathing now near the three of you.

Alexia sat up quickly and looked for the person who threw the ball. You quickly pointed to Pina and even pointed to your poor sandcastle. "Claudia! Ven aqui!" Alexia yelled, and you quickly stood up and ran to Fridolina.

"Yes," you told her, still standing far away from the water. "Get on my shoulders; we're going to show Mapi and Ingrid that just because they're a couple doesn't mean that they'll win every game together," Fridolina said, determined as she motioned for you to go closer to her. 

"But Mapi is way stronger than me," you said as Mapi was already climbing Ingrid's shoulders. "And you're a better cheater; come on, put that cheating mentality to the test." You nodded as you got into the water and onto Fridolina's shoulders.

You giggled as you shoved Ingrid's shoulder with your foot. "Hey!" She yelled as she stumbled back a bit. Mapi lost her balance and fell into the water. 

You and Frido cheered, and she jumped around with you. Mapi stood up and pushed you off. "Hey! Sore loser. Ingrid, control your girlfriend," you told the taller girl, spitting to get that disgusting salt water taste out of your mouth. 

"Rematch cheater," Mapi poked your stomach, and you shook your head. "I won fair and square; I get bragging rights; now I'm tired; goodbye," you told her, and rushed out of the water. 

Alexia gave you an amused look as you laid down on the towel next to her. "Mapi is a sore loser," you told her. "Maybe you're just a cheater," she said back. 

"I won fair and square." "Yeah, sure, pack up; we’re leaving.” You cheered and jumped up to pack everything up. 

For the next 4 months, Mapi and Ingrid did not hear the end of your little victory. 

[thewingedwolf]

tags from @pinkhysteria

Idc what anyone says, getting rid of Hisam was the beginning of the end. It was way too early to turn on one of their own and it started a Butterfly effect of Cameron steam rolling and keeping all the handful intact.

[okasuka]

Damian Wayne x Y/N - a stupid mistake.

The fluorescent lights in Gotham Academy’s hallway buzzed faintly overhead, blending with the dull roar of lunchtime chatter. Y/N adjusted her bag as she sorted through her locker. Her life had settled into a strange new normal after months of chaos. She was no longer the same girl Damian Wayne had known, and she had the scars—physical and emotional—to prove it.

Her wavy hair now barely brushed her shoulders, the dark red streak through it catching the light when she moved. Her tan skin, once smooth, bore new marks on her upper arms and shoulders. She didn’t hide them anymore. They were her story, even if she didn’t plan on sharing it.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

Her hand froze mid-reach, her stomach flipping in a way that disgusted her. She hadn’t heard him say her name in months, not since the day he’d torn her heart out without so much as an explanation. Slowly, she turned to face him.

Damian Wayne stood there, his emerald eyes locked on her face. His posture was perfect, as always, but there was a tightness in his jaw she hadn’t seen before.

“What do you want, Wayne?” she asked, her voice cold.

He flinched at the use of his last name but recovered quickly. “I wanted to talk to you.”

She shut her locker with a sharp clang, shouldering her bag. “That makes one of us.”

“Wait.” He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Just—hear me out.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “You have thirty seconds.”

Damian hesitated, his mask of stoicism slipping just a little. “It’s my birthday tomorrow,” he started. “There’s a party at the manor. I want you to come.”

Her brow furrowed, skepticism clear on her face. “You… want me to come? Why?”

“Because,” he said, his voice softening, “I miss—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharper now, cutting him off. “Don’t pretend you miss me, Damian. You made it perfectly clear how little I mattered to you eleven months ago.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Because from where I’m standing, you got what you wanted. I’m out of your life, and you’re free to be Gotham’s golden boy without any distractions.”

“That’s not what happened.” His voice dropped, low and almost pleading.

Y/N shook her head, unwilling to let him drag her back into the past. “You know what, fine. I’ll come. But not because of you.” She stepped around him, her heart pounding as she walked away.

The next evening, Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, her reflection unfamiliar yet empowering. The dark red dress clung to her curves, the plunging neckline and leg slit making her look dangerous in a way that made her smirk. A bandage peeked out from her shoulder, but she didn’t try to hide it.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself before stepping into her heels.

Wayne Manor loomed ahead, a palace of stone and glass that glowed with golden light. Y/N walked through the grand doors with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel, her eyes scanning the opulent ballroom. Chandeliers glittered overhead, and the sound of laughter and music filled the space.

“Y/N!” one of her friends called, waving her over.

She smiled and joined them near the grand staircase, settling into easy conversation. It felt good to laugh, to feel like herself again, even if a certain pair of green eyes lingered in the back of her mind.

After a while, the heat of the crowded room pushed her toward the bar. She leaned against the polished wood, ordering a drink and savoring the moment of quiet.

“You look stunning.”

The voice sent a shiver down her spine. Turning, she found Damian standing behind her, his gaze tracing the lines of her dress.

“Thanks,” she said curtly, taking a sip of her drink.

“I mean it,” he pressed. “You’ve changed.”

She set her glass down, meeting his gaze with a raised brow. “Yeah, well, life does that to you. You should try it sometime.”

“Y/N…” His voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

“What?” she snapped, the cracks in her composure beginning to show. “What do you want from me, Damian?”

“I want to talk,” he said, stepping closer.

“We are talking.”

“No, I mean—I want to explain.” His eyes searched hers, desperate for understanding. “I made a mistake.”

Her heart clenched painfully, but she refused to let it show. “Oh, you mean dumping me out of nowhere? Breaking six years of trust without so much as a real explanation? Yeah, Damian, I’d call that a mistake.”

He flinched, guilt flashing across his face. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” Her voice rose, drawing a few curious glances from nearby.

Y/N didn’t care. If Damian wanted to start this here, at his glamorous eighteenth birthday party, surrounded by Gotham’s elite, then fine.

“Well?” she pressed. “What was it like, Damian? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you got bored and threw me away.”

“It wasn’t boredom!” Damian snapped, his calm façade finally cracking. “I was trying to protect you.”

Y/N blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. Then she laughed—a bitter, disbelieving sound. “Protect me? Are you serious? That’s your excuse?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “You don’t understand what I deal with, Y/N. The people I fight, the threats I face—they don’t just target me. They target the people I care about. I thought—” He stopped, taking a breath. “I thought if I pushed you away, you’d be safer.”

Her jaw tightened, the anger bubbling up again. “So you decided that for me? Without even talking to me about it? Without giving me the chance to choose for myself?”

“You don’t get it,” Damian insisted. “People die in my world, Y/N. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”

“Newsflash, Damian: things already happened to me,” she shot back, gesturing to her scarred shoulder. “You don’t think I know what danger is? You don’t think I can handle myself?”

“I know you can,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I can handle losing you.”

The words hung between them, heavy and raw. Y/N stared at him, her heart warring with her head. For a moment, she saw the boy she used to know—the one who had fought beside her, laughed with her, and held her when things got hard. But that boy had also broken her.

She shook her head, her voice trembling. “You already did.”

Damian flinched like she’d struck him, his fists clenching at his sides. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“Yeah, well, congratulations,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You did a great job. I hope it was worth it.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the ballroom. The cold night air hit her like a slap, but it did nothing to cool the fire in her chest. She walked to the edge of the driveway and sank down onto the curb, her shoulders shaking as tears finally spilled over.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, her breath fogging in the winter air. The sound of footsteps on the gravel made her stiffen, but she didn’t look up.

“Y/N.”

Of course it was him. She wiped her face hastily, refusing to let him see her cry. “What do you want now, Damian?”

“I want to fix this,” he said softly, stopping a few feet away. “I want to fix us.”

She laughed bitterly, her head still bowed. “You can’t just decide that now. You don’t get to rip my heart out and then show up eleven months later pretending you care.”

“I’ve always cared,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I never stopped.”

“Then why didn’t you fight for me?” she demanded, finally looking up at him. Her eyes were red and glistening, her expression equal parts anger and heartbreak. “Why did you let me go if you cared so much?”

“Because I was scared!” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I didn’t know how to keep you safe. And when I realized I’d made a mistake, I thought it was too late. I thought you’d moved on.”

Y/N stood, brushing dirt off her dress. “You were right. I did move on. I had to, because you left me no choice.”

He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for another chance. Please.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but she shook her head. “I can’t, Damian. Not like this. I’ve spent the last year putting myself back together, and I can’t let you tear me apart again.”

“I wouldn’t—” he started, but she cut him off.

“You don’t know that,” she said quietly. “And I can’t take that risk.”

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid between them. Finally, Damian nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Y/N’s lips trembled, but she forced herself to stay strong. “So am I.”

Without another word, she turned and walked away, the sound of her heels echoing against the cold stone. Damian watched her go, his chest tight with regret, knowing this time, he was the one left behind.

Damian stayed rooted to the spot long after Y/N disappeared into the night. The cold air bit at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He’d faced assassins, criminals, and monsters without flinching, but watching her walk away felt like the most painful thing he’d ever endured.

He ran a hand through his hair, his mind replaying every word of their argument. He couldn’t blame her for her anger, her pain. She had every right to shut him out, to protect herself after what he’d done. But it didn’t make the loss any easier to bear.

Inside the manor, the party continued without him, the sound of laughter and music a cruel backdrop to his turmoil. Damian finally turned and walked back inside, ignoring the curious stares from guests who’d witnessed part of their confrontation.

“Hey, Dames!” a voice called out as a girl stepped into his path. Her voice was bubbly, her dress glittering as she batted her eyelashes at him. “What happened out there? Everything okay?”

Damian didn’t even respond. He brushed past her without a glance, his steps quickening as he made his way to the nearest empty room.

Meanwhile, Outside

Y/N walked briskly down the driveway, her arms crossed tightly against the chill. Her vision was blurry with tears, but she kept moving, not trusting herself to stay on the grounds a second longer.

“Y/N!”

She turned at the sound of her name to see one of her closest friends, Lena, jogging to catch up with her. “Hey, are you okay? What happened back there?”

Y/N shook her head, her voice cracking as she spoke. “I shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake.”

Lena frowned, placing a comforting hand on Y/N’s arm. “Did Damian say something? What did he do?”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh. “He just… he doesn’t get it. He thinks he can just apologize and fix everything like it didn’t happen. Like he didn’t destroy me.”

Lena’s expression darkened. “That idiot. He doesn’t deserve you, Y/N. You’ve come so far without him. Don’t let him drag you back down.”

“I won’t,” Y/N said firmly, wiping her eyes. “I can’t. I’m done with him, Lena. I have to be.”

“Good,” Lena said, looping her arm through Y/N’s. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ve got ice cream at my place. We can watch trashy movies and forget all about this night.”

For the first time that evening, Y/N smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

Back at the Manor

Damian sat in his father’s study, staring blankly at the flickering fireplace. He barely registered the sound of Bruce entering the room until the older man spoke.

“You look like you’ve been through a war,” Bruce said, his voice calm but concerned.

“In a way, I have,” Damian muttered, his gaze fixed on the flames.

Bruce walked over, taking the seat across from him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Damian sighed heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I thought I was protecting her by letting her go. I thought if I distanced myself, she’d be safe. But now…” He trailed off, clenching his fists.

Bruce studied him for a moment before speaking. “Protecting the people you care about is noble, Damian. But it doesn’t mean much if it comes at the cost of their trust. Or their happiness.”

“I know that now,” Damian admitted, his voice low. “But it’s too late. She’s moved on, and I…” He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. “I think I’ve lost her for good.”

Bruce leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “People need time, Damian. Time to heal, time to forgive. If you truly care about her, give her that time. And when she’s ready—if she’s ready—be there for her.”

Damian didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stared into the fire, Bruce’s words echoing in his mind.

Weeks Later

Y/N had thrown herself back into her routine, focusing on school, training, and her friends. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was hers, and she was determined to own it.

One afternoon, as she walked through Gotham’s streets on her way home, she spotted a familiar figure in the distance. Damian stood near the entrance of a bookstore, his hands in his pockets as he watched her approach.

Her first instinct was to walk the other way, but something in his expression stopped her. He didn’t look arrogant or confident like he usually did. He looked… uncertain.

When she reached him, she crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk,” he said, his voice cautious. “No pressure. No expectations. Just talk.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to turn him away, to protect herself from the pain he’d caused. But another part—the part that still remembered the boy she’d once loved—whispered that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something different.

She sighed. “Alright. Let’s talk.”

Damian’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he gestured toward the bookstore. “There’s a café inside. I’ll buy you coffee.”

As they walked inside, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the future held. She wasn’t ready to forgive him completely, but maybe, just maybe, this was the first step toward something new—something better.

Inside the Bookstore Café

Y/N sat across from Damian at a small wooden table near the window. The smell of roasted coffee beans filled the air, and the quiet hum of conversation provided a soft backdrop to their uneasy silence.

Damian returned from the counter with two cups, setting one in front of her. She glanced at it, raising an eyebrow.

“Still black coffee with a splash of hazelnut, right?” he asked, his voice low.

She hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.”

He sat down, his hands curling around his own mug as he looked at her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick enough to cut.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Y/N prompted, breaking the silence. “So talk.”

Damian took a deep breath, his emerald eyes locking onto hers. “I know I already apologized at the party, but I need to say it again. I was wrong to push you away. I was wrong to decide for you, and I was wrong to think I could protect you by hurting you.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around her mug. “You’ve got that right.”

“I know you don’t owe me anything,” he continued. “But I want you to know how much I regret what I did. Every day for the past year, I’ve thought about what I could’ve done differently. About how badly I screwed up.”

She stayed silent, letting him talk.

“You were my best friend, Y/N,” Damian said, his voice softening. “You still are, at least to me. I didn’t just lose my girlfriend that day. I lost… everything.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words, but she forced herself to stay composed. “You hurt me, Damian. More than anyone ever has. And it wasn’t just the breakup—it was the way you did it. You didn’t trust me enough to let me make my own choices. You didn’t think I was strong enough to handle your world.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I was wrong. I see that now.” He paused, looking down at his coffee. “When I saw you again—how strong you’ve become, how much you’ve changed—I realized you didn’t need my protection. You never did. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with how much you meant to me.”

Y/N stared at him, her emotions swirling. Part of her wanted to scream at him for his selfishness, for the pain he’d caused. But another part—a smaller, quieter part—recognized the sincerity in his voice.

“What do you want from me, Damian?” she asked finally.

He looked up, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. “I want to make things right. I don’t expect you to forgive me or take me back, but… I want to earn back your trust. Even if we’re just friends.”

Y/N blinked, startled by his words. “Friends?”

“If that’s all you’re willing to give me,” he said earnestly, “then yes. I’ll take it. I just want to be in your life again, Y/N. In any way you’ll allow.”

Her heart ached at his vulnerability. She could see how much it had cost him to say those words, to let his walls down in front of her.

She leaned back in her chair, studying him carefully. “It’s not going to be easy, Damian. You don’t just get to waltz back into my life and pretend like nothing happened.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I’m not asking for that. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself to you.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her gaze flickering to the window. The snow outside had started to fall lightly, blanketing Gotham in a soft white glow. When she looked back at Damian, she saw something different in him—a patience, a humility she hadn’t seen before.

“Alright,” she said slowly. “We can try being friends. But that’s all it is, Damian. Friends.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, though he quickly masked it. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Y/N nodded, her resolve firm. She wasn’t ready to let him back into her heart, but she wasn’t ready to shut the door completely either. Maybe, with time, they could find their way back to something—whether it was friendship, closure, or something else entirely.

For now, though, they sipped their coffee in silence, the weight between them lighter than it had been in months. Outside, the snow continued to fall, covering the city in a fresh start.

Weeks Turn into Months

The tentative friendship between Y/N and Damian became a strange new rhythm in both their lives. They weren’t close like they once had been, but they were something.

Damian started showing up—quietly and without pretense. He’d appear at the bookstore where Y/N worked part-time, browsing the shelves but always leaving with a book he didn’t need. He’d swing by the park during her morning runs, offering nothing but a small nod before continuing his training nearby.

Y/N let him linger on the edges of her life, unsure how to feel about his presence. Part of her resented him for trying to slip back in so seamlessly, but another part—a part she hated admitting existed—felt comforted by it.

One Evening at the Bookstore

The shop was quiet as Y/N stacked books onto a display table. The soft hum of music played over the speakers, and the warm light made the space feel cozy despite the cold outside.

“Excuse me, do you have anything on classical fencing techniques?”

She froze mid-stack, recognizing the voice instantly. Slowly, she looked up to see Damian standing on the other side of the table, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You could write a book on fencing.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe I’m just trying to support local business.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smirk that crept onto her face. “A likely story.”

He leaned against the table, his gaze soft. “How’s your shoulder?”

Y/N stiffened slightly, the question catching her off guard. She hesitated before answering. “Better. The scarring’s still there, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

“That’s good,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’m glad.”

An awkward silence stretched between them before she cleared her throat and gestured toward the back. “Fencing books are in the martial arts section. You know where it is.”

He gave her a small nod and started toward the aisle but paused halfway. Turning back, he added, “You should text me if you need a sparring partner. You’ve got a mean right hook, but your footwork could use some work.”

She scoffed, unable to stop a laugh. “Bold of you to assume I’d want to spend more time with you, Wayne.”

He smirked, the confidence she remembered so well flickering to life. “Just putting the offer out there.”

As he disappeared into the shelves, Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile. Damian Wayne was nothing if not persistent.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

It wasn’t all smooth sailing. They fought—often and fiercely. Y/N called Damian out whenever he got too cocky or overstepped his boundaries, and he, in turn, challenged her to be honest about her feelings.

One particularly brutal argument happened during a late-night training session at the manor. Y/N had reluctantly agreed to spar with Damian in the cave, hoping to get in some practice without any emotional baggage. But, as always, emotions found their way in.

“You’re hesitating,” Damian said sharply, dodging her punch and countering with a sweep kick that sent her to the mat.

“No, I’m thinking,” she snapped, pushing herself up.

“You’re holding back,” he argued, stepping back to let her regain her footing. “You’re not fighting like you mean it.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like fighting you,” she shot back, her voice rising. “Maybe I’m sick of you always pushing me!”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m pushing you because I know you’re better than this. You’re stronger than this.”

“Strong enough for what?” she demanded, tossing her gloves to the side. “For your approval? For your world? What are you even trying to prove, Damian?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything!” he yelled, his composure breaking. “I’m trying to help you see that you don’t need anyone to save you—not me, not anyone!”

Y/N froze, her breath hitching. For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of his words settling between them.

She broke the silence first, her voice trembling. “I don’t need you to tell me that, Damian. I’ve known it for a long time.”

With that, she grabbed her bag and left, leaving Damian standing alone in the cave.

The Breaking Point

Weeks passed before they spoke again. Y/N avoided the manor, choosing to focus on herself and her friends. Damian respected her space, though it killed him to do so.

It wasn’t until a Gotham-wide crisis—a coordinated attack by a group of mercenaries—forced them to work together that things came to a head. Fighting side by side brought back old memories, but it also reignited unresolved feelings.

After the dust settled, Y/N and Damian found themselves on a rooftop, overlooking the city. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by an aching exhaustion.

“You didn’t have to follow me into the line of fire,” Y/N said, breaking the silence.

“I wasn’t going to let you get hurt,” Damian replied, his voice firm.

She turned to him, her eyes blazing. “I can take care of myself, Damian. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I know that,” he said quietly. “But I’ll never stop wanting to.”

Her breath caught at his words. For the first time in a long time, she saw the boy she’d fallen for—not the cold, calculating heir to the Wayne legacy, but the Damian who had once been her best friend.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “This isn’t easy for me, Damian. Letting you back in. Trusting you.”

“I don’t expect it to be easy,” he said, stepping closer. “I just want the chance to try.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart pounding. She didn’t know if she could forgive him fully, or if they could ever go back to what they once had. But for the first time, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could build something new.

“Alright,” she said softly. “But you’re on thin ice, Wayne.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll take it.”

They stood there in silence, the city stretching out before them, as the first light of dawn broke through the Gotham skyline.

A Fragile Beginning

The morning light painted Gotham in a pale orange hue, the quiet hum of the city a stark contrast to the storm raging in Y/N’s heart. She stood beside Damian on the rooftop, his words lingering in her mind.

“I just want the chance to try.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the stillness between them fragile but oddly comforting. Y/N finally sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“We should head back,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “Your family’s probably looking for you.”

Damian hesitated but nodded. “Let me walk you home.”

She opened her mouth to refuse but stopped herself. The exhaustion from the fight, combined with the emotional weight of their conversation, left her too drained to argue.

“Fine,” she muttered, turning toward the fire escape. “But don’t think this means anything.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Damian replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he followed her down.

The Walk Home

The streets were quieter than usual, the aftermath of the attack leaving an uneasy calm over the city. Damian walked beside Y/N, his hands tucked into his pockets. He kept his distance, sensing her need for space.

“So…” Damian began, breaking the silence. “How’s life outside the vigilante world? You still working at the bookstore?”

“Yeah,” she replied shortly. “It’s steady. Normal.”

“Do you like it?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance. “Why do you care?”

He stopped walking for a moment, forcing her to slow down and turn to face him.

“Because I want to know about your life,” he said earnestly. “I want to know what makes you happy, Y/N. Even if I’m not part of it.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. She stared at him for a moment before sighing and continuing down the street.

“It’s fine,” she admitted. “I like the quiet. After everything, I needed something… simple.”

Damian nodded, falling into step beside her again. “I get that.”

They walked in silence for a few more blocks, the tension between them softening slightly. When they finally reached her apartment building, Y/N turned to face him.

“Thanks for walking me home,” she said, her tone neutral.

Damian gave her a small nod. “Anytime.”

As she turned to go inside, he hesitated before speaking again. “Y/N.”

She paused, glancing back at him.

“I meant what I said,” he told her. “I’ll take things at your pace. Just… don’t shut me out completely, okay?”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, her emotions warring inside her. Finally, she nodded. “We’ll see, Wayne.”

With that, she disappeared into the building, leaving Damian standing alone on the sidewalk.

Over the Next Few Weeks

True to his word, Damian didn’t push. He was patient, showing up in small, unexpected ways. He’d bring her coffee during her shifts at the bookstore, offer a quick sparring session in the gym, or even just send a simple text checking in.

At first, Y/N was skeptical, waiting for him to revert to his old, arrogant self. But as the weeks passed, she began to see a different side of him—a side she hadn’t seen in years. He was still Damian, sharp-tongued and stubborn, but there was a humility to him now, a quiet determination that caught her off guard.

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, Y/N found herself sitting beside him on the mats, her breathing heavy.

“You’ve gotten better,” Damian said, handing her a water bottle.

“I’ve had good teachers,” she replied, taking a sip.

He smirked. “Good to know I’m still useful for something.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Damian spoke again, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

Y/N blinked, startled. “What?”

He turned to face her, his expression serious. “You’ve been through hell, and you came out stronger. You didn’t let it break you.”

She looked away, her throat tightening. “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “But I didn’t have a choice. I had to keep going.”

“That’s what makes you incredible,” Damian said quietly.

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She wasn’t ready to forgive him completely, but moments like this made it harder to keep her walls up.

A Turning Point

One Friday evening, Y/N found herself at the Wayne Manor again, this time for a small gathering Alfred had organized for the family and their closest friends.

She’d initially refused the invitation, but Alfred’s gentle insistence—and Lena’s encouragement—had worn her down.

“You look great,” Lena said as they walked up to the manor’s grand entrance.

Y/N glanced down at her outfit, a simple black dress paired with a leather jacket. “It’s nothing fancy.”

“That’s why it works,” Lena replied with a grin. “Effortless and badass. Classic you.”

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and lively, a stark contrast to the chaos of Damian’s birthday months ago. Y/N spotted Bruce talking with Alfred near the fireplace, while Tim and Stephanie argued over a board game in the corner.

“Y/N.”

She turned to see Damian approaching, dressed casually in a dark sweater and slacks. His expression softened when he saw her.

“You came,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Alfred can be very persuasive,” she replied, crossing her arms.

Damian smirked. “That he can.”

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the room fading into the background.

“Do you want to step outside?” he asked suddenly.

Y/N hesitated before nodding. “Sure.”

On the Balcony

The cool night air was refreshing as they stepped onto the balcony overlooking the Wayne estate. The stars were faint but visible, a rare sight in Gotham.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Damian said after a moment.

Y/N leaned against the railing, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “It still feels weird, being here. After everything.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you gave it a chance.”

She turned to face him, her expression serious. “What are we doing, Damian? I need to know.”

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know I don’t want to lose you again.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through her defenses.

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” she whispered.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “Not again. I swear it.”

Y/N searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, but all she saw was sincerity. Slowly, she nodded.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “But this is your last chance, Damian. If you mess this up, we’re done.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking her hand.

“I won’t mess it up,” he promised.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a flicker of hope—not just for them, but for herself.

A New Beginning

The road ahead wasn’t easy. They had arguments, setbacks, and moments of doubt, but they also had laughter, shared victories, and a growing trust that began to heal old wounds.

Damian worked tirelessly to prove himself, not just with words but with actions. He showed up for her in ways that mattered—listening when she needed to talk, giving her space when she needed it, and standing by her side through every challenge.

And slowly, Y/N found herself letting him back in, one piece at a time.

By the time spring rolled around, they’d found a new rhythm—a partnership built on honesty, respect, and the hard lessons they’d both learned.

One evening, as they sat on the rooftop of Y/N’s apartment, watching the city lights below, Damian turned to her, a rare smile on his face.

“You know,” he said, “for all my mistakes, there’s one thing I’ll never regret.”

“What’s that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Meeting you,” he said simply.

Y/N’s heart swelled at his words, and for the first time, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of a future with him—a future where they could build something stronger than what they’d had before.

With a small smile, she leaned her head against his shoulder, the warmth of his presence grounding her.

“Me neither, Wayne,” she murmured. “Me neither.”

And for the first time in a long time, they both felt at peace.

[jelliezellie]

Kiss the Cook - Levi Ackerman x Reader

The sun peeked through the curtains. Levi stirred in his sleep, holding you tighter. Something about how he was hugging you and muttering little comp[laints in his sleep made him seem so much more human. 

In a world of inhumanity, it was nice to know that the person you go to sleep with and wake up with is human. His brows, for once, weren’t furrowed and his eyes weren’t dark with worry or disappointment. Instead, his expressions as that of complete peace. His lips, not thick, nor thin, were slightly parted. 

His eyes slowly fluttered open as he took in his surroundings. The amount of light in the room surprised him at first and he hid his face in your chest, groaning. His arms ventured up into your hair and he tucked your hair behind your ear. “Morning,” he mumbled, his eyes finally getting used to the light. He stared up at you with a sleepy expression. He had the ghost of a smile on his face. “How come you look so angelic in the morning?”

“How come you look so cute when you’re sleeping?” You replied with a question. 

“Since when did you watch me when I sleep?” He teased, pressing a kiss against your neck. 

You chuckled. “Since you slept in.” 

He held himself above you by placing his hands next to your shoulders. He trailed kisses up to your jawline, then finally, your lips. “You’re so stunning,” he whispered. You kissed him back. 

Levi always seemed to get affectionate in the mornings. It was his form of meditation, almost. Showing that there was still love in him—feeling the love he still had to give—was comforting to him. And in your shared bed, which was warm (a blessing from the cold winter wind), he’d always wake up the same; with you by his side. 

You ran your hands through his hair. “Levi,” you whispered, “you’re so pretty.” His cheeks were tinted pink and, on instinct, he nearly looked away to hide his expression. But he stopped himself. His eyes remained on your charming face as he smiled. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked suddenly. 

You guffawed. “I am. Do you want to make breakfast?”

He nodded. “I’ll make breakfast. You can stay in bed.”

You tilted your head. “Why’s that?”

“You trained way too hard yesterday, love.” He climbed out of bed and left the room. Your bed felt cold without him. It felt like you were missing your blanket. Like you were missing your pillow, your mattress, or every part of the bed that made it your bed. 

You sighed and stood up. Levi was right; your thighs were still taut and strained and for a moment, you thought your legs would collapse beneath you. You stretched and your back popped several times. Your triceps and biceps and whatever other ‘ceps’ you had in your body were all in pain. 

Nonetheless, you were hungry and you missed your boyfriend, so you left your room and struggled to walk a few steps to get to your kitchen. Levi was brewing tea and you grinned mischievously. He was turned around.

You snuck up behind him and as soon as you got a few feet away…

“Do you want honey?”

You frowned. “What? How’d you know I was coming? I was completely silent!”

“Oh, were you trying to scare me?” He asked with a groggy smile on his face. “The only thing scary here is your cooking, hence, why breakfast is cooking safely under my supervision.” He flipped a pancake. “So, do you want honey?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

“Brat,” he mumbled, throwing a glance at you over his shoulder. Levi finished cooking them and placed a few pancakes on a plate for you. He carried it over to you but didn’t give it to you. You reached for it, but he moved it out of your reach with a teasing smile. “Ever heard of the phrase ‘kiss the cook?’”

“God, did Hange teach you that one?” You mumbled.

“Doesn’t matter. It still applies.” He grabbed your chin softly and pressed his lips on yours. You closed your eyes and kissed back. Satisfied, he set your plate down in front of you. “Still so obedient,” he teased, “cute.”

[duexnuts]

mark my words | megumi x reader ⋆˙⟡

probably ooc, not proof read

ch 1: the interview | masterlist! | next ch.

you just graduated from a no-name university and have had trouble getting a stable job for… 2? years. don’t worry, your family has been there to help you while you’ve been working at wendy’s. it’s not enough to move you out of the house but enough to help your family get by. it’s not like you haven’t tried getting a job, but the sheer amount of interviews you have failed has probably set a record at this point. 

alas, you have another interview scheduled today at jujutsu tech. it’s no google, but as long as you get a somewhat decent job, your family (and you) will be happy. probably. 

“hi, i’m here for an interview with megumi fushiguro? i’m y/n l/n.” 

the lobby secretary looks you up and down.

“sorry. the positions been filled.”

what..? “what do you mean the positions has been filled? i just saw someone exit from an interview.”

you didn’t see anyone exit. you lied. 

“first of all, i would know if someone just got out of an interview. i am here all day. and second, sorry! mr. fushiguro said he already found someone… more capable.” 

“no please, just give me a chance. let me up there,” you plead. 

you need this so bad. no more flipping burgers or putting fries in the bag, please. 

“ma’am, i’m going to have to ask you to leave or i’ll have to call security.”

fuck. 

you leave, wanting to save the little bit of dignity you have left. 

you hop on a bus to go home. another failed interview..? you couldn’t even get in this time. maybe you just got the wrong degree— maybe you should listen to your sister and just become a teacher. a comp sci teacher, or maybe an art teacher. you haven’t decided yet. or what if you start a crypto scam? that could work, and it’s close enough to something in the tech field so that you can just lie to your dad and say you’re in the field. 

google: how to create my own cryptocurrency 

nevermind. that’s way too much work. 

hopping off the bus, you begin walking home. damn, if your high school bullies saw you now, they would really see that you hit a new low– and in high school, you t-posed. 

you unlock the door and call out, “i’m home!”

your dad greets you first, “welcome home, sweetheart! how did it go? did you get the job?”

sigh. “they didn’t even let me interview this time. but don’t worry! i’m sure that i can just apply to a different company.” 

he pats you on the back and replies, “it’s their loss, sweetheart. you’ll knock them out next time,” while handing you an apple slice. 

“i just don’t understand what i am doing wrong. i got a 3.84 gpa, i have so much experience from my internships during college, and i am an excellent interviewee... i think.” 

“all of the assistants you have NEVER hired never help you in any way, megumi,” gojo scolds, “why dont you find someone… actually capable? someone with a good resume.” 

“because, i don’t need an assistant.”

“look, i gave you this position because you are good at your job, but look at yourself, megumi.”

gojo points around the room, where to-go boxes and crushed cans of red-bull are scattered around.

gojo continues to speak, “you need help with your job. it’s okay to ask for help. these bimbo assistants you find just want other things. i actually saw a really nice girl earlier get denied for an interview.”

gojo throws y/n’s resume down on the table, “please, just consider it.” 

a/n: my first work uploaded to tumblr ! its def a bit hard to get used to this app (i accidentally made the entire fic a tag on accident.) but like FREEDOM TO THE PEOPLE! I WILL GET THROUGH THIS AND LEARN HOW TO USE TUMBLR!

[s0fter-sin]

i’ve been watching yannis marshall choreography for like 15 minutes and i’m back thinking about my dancer au

gaz suggests a pole dancing segment for the music video for price and ghost shuts it down hard, saying he doesn’t do pole. gaz calls him selfish, that he’s just saying no to spite him but ghost holds firm; not even listening to soap as he tries to reason with him and reach a compromise

soap gets to practice early like he always does, just to see ghost blasting another life by motionless in white and doing a flawless pole routine. he’s as mesmerised by him as he always is, such beautiful movements contrasted by the seemingly harsh music, and waits for him to break before teasing, “i thought you said you couldn’t do pole dancin’.”

ghost just wipes the sweat off his face with a towel. he knew he was there

he always knows when soap’s there

“i said i didn’t do pole; not that i couldn’t.”

“what’s stoppin’ you?” soap asks, genuine and innocently curious and it’s the only reason ghost doesn’t completely shut him down

“what ‘bout you?” he asks instead. “ever done pole?”

he shrugs and sets his bag down. “enough to get in a twirl or two. ‘sides, gaz’s better suited to that kinda delicate work.”

“now, that i know is bullshit,” ghost scoffs and soap tenses, expecting him to go off on another rant about his best mate (just like he waits through gaz going off on ghost) but- “i’ve seen your competition tapes; you’re plenty strong enough to work a pole.”

soap stares at him. “how have you-?”

“price,” he answers simply, throwing the towel on top of his gear and all but stalks towards him. “i like knowin’ who i’m working with; he sent me your breakdancin’ comps. if you can hold a three-fingered hollowback handstand, you can bend on a pole.”

soap sputters as ghost grips his tank top and yanks him over to the pole, setting his hands in place on the body-warmed metal; bracketing his body with his own. he guides his body through the motions; teaches him how to fall and catch himself in a spin, how to gracefully climb and hold his body in midair

soap laughs as he throws himself into a spin just to bend his legs over his head, twisting his body to latch onto the pole with knee and lean perfectly horizontal with his other leg splayed out; his arm thrown above his head

he tips his head back to catch ghost’s grin and almost drops himself as he jumps up to join him; artfully climbing above him and holding his whole weight on his hip as he flips down to look at him

soap’s breath catches at the scant distance between their faces; so close he can count the near invisible freckles on ghosts skin, his fair lashes and the deep flecks of gold in his dark eyes

ghost is just as entranced; his grin slowly fading as he looks into the light sparkling in soap’s eyes. he tips his head towards the mirrors lining the studio and they slowly turn to look at themselves; fitting perfectly together

“see?” he whispers. “we don’t look all that outta place, do we?”

“no,” soap whispers back. “we don’t.”

[dnfao3tags]

Monthly Fic Roundup - November 2023

i will make separate posts for dnf week fics so look forward to that. here are the regular fics posted this month :]

please take a couple seconds to leave some love !

— noughts & crosses by sageafk (expl. | comp. | 12k)

It's just instincts, but with everyone assuming Dream is an alpha and his sister sharing the news of her new litter of pups, George feels a little short. He needs to be fucked and bred and knotted, and his omega boyfriend will do everything he can to make him feel better.

— There's Hope Out The Window by Scoops (consciousness_streaming) (expl. | comp. | 14k)

Dream and George make a late night run for snacks and end up involved in a gas station robbery that makes them question everything they thought they knew.

— just his luck by dreamskis (expl. | comp. | 11k)

There is no way Dream just walked in on George getting off, evidence still pulled up on the screen in full high definition glory, and instead of doing the normal person thing and leaving to avoid any awkward conversations, he just… Plops himself down. Right on the other end of the couch, just a few feet away from where George is clutching the pillow to his lap for dear life, flames burning in his cheeks. As if this is any other normal interaction for the two of them. Like he walked in on George watching a new episode of Better Call Saul and not Brunet Twink is a Cock-Hungry Slut: Part II.

— you're not a friend again by cqfnce (mat. | comp. | 7k)

Dream blinks at him, big eyes wide. “George… That’s not how- Kissing does not work like that.” “So you’re good at kissing then?” George teases. Dream grins. “The best, actually.” “Prove it,” George replies, the words on the edge of his tongue since the conversation had started.

— tried and true blue by twostorms (expl. | comp. | 13k)

Sapnap decides to move out. George isn't sure what that means for him and Dream.

— just go home by hardtofindneuro (expl. | comp. | 14k)

Dream's busy and always expects George to change around the plans for him but George is tired of it. When George refuses to budge on his birthday plans, Dream tells him the one thing that makes him regret even coming to America in the first place.

— Can You Hear Me? by VicIsWriting (expl. | comp. | 12k)

He's pictured it a million different ways, maybe Dream meets him in the airport and they run into each other's arms while all the busy noise of Orlando International Airport melts away– and all they can hear is I love you radiating through their souls. It didn’t happen like that, obviously. Instead it was a driveway and sweltering heat, with Sapnap watching on. It was Dream walking out looking like a damn god with the sun glowing behind him, it’s an awkward hug and an unfamiliar smell.

— teach you how forever feels like by jack_not_found (mat. | comp. | 27k)

a spontaneous match on a dating app leads to the best thing that's ever happened to george: dream, and his son.

— goddamn blaze in the dark (you started it) by brokenlikeastitch (teen | comp. | 25k)

This is it, the culmination of seven years of friendship and a little over three years of…something else. George’s lips part, expectant, and just as he’s about to push forward and join them entirely, the kitchen light flips on. It’s abrupt the way the bubble around them pops, and Dream flinches back, startled at the interruption. George immediately feels colder, and his stomach sinks. So fucking close.

— time’s uncertain wing by snowdreamr (teen | comp. | 14k)

On loneliness and distance, but above all else, on the agony of being known—inside, out, and all around.

— if i got one thing right by nervouswaltz (teen | comp. | 4k)

George wants to adopt a cat. Dream realizes, with time, that he wants more.

— it's your birthday (make a wish) by newsouls (expl. | comp. | 1k)

In the shower before George's stream, he gets his first birthday gift of the day.

remember, you can always send your own favourites of the month for me to include!

[shiningmystic]

My psychic dream that came true

I probably had many more dreams that came true but this one is the most recent and the most obvious one that came to fruition (I only remember other world dreams that someday I’m gonna paint). I believe everyone has atleast one psychic ability; the most common one is receiving information through dreams which is something I always kinda knew about the world and I think many of you do too. That’s how I probably saw the weirdest shit when I was small but I digress.

To begin the story, my father had gotten really injured at work; he was a cop and was doing some required training for the year. On that fateful day his friend told him how he tripped and flipped on his rifle landing on his back asking him if he was ok. He stares at his friend confused feeling fine and finishing the training unaware of what’s to come.

When he got home on that day; the pain hit him like a ton of bricks and he was rushed to the hospital. They told him he had a concussion and many injuries everywhere. When he applied for workers comp? They constantly disputed his claims saying he probably didn’t get it at work even with a witness because he didn’t report it right away. Every step for him was a struggle with his extensive injuries. The only reason he forgot was the concussion, and the adrenalin from the training numbed the intense pain his body was in until he got home where his body gave out.

He was in agony and snapped at everyone in anger for two years. I’m not lying that my father injured every part of his body and now his lower back will never be the same. At the time everyone who talked to him would see how damaged he was, limping and groaning at everyone in anger at every little thing. All the doctors told him he would never walk without pain again but even then he kept going and doing what they instructed him; physical therapy and many stretching regimes. If you guys knew my dad, he normally is a happy adhd guy who jokes around a lot, the only time he gets mad is when there is injustice (which he was reminded of the injustice he was experiencing everyday with workers comp so his anger was worse).

One night during that horrible time, I dreamed of my dad, thin young and excited for life like the happy jolly man he was. As the dream went on I could see him walking around with no limp and some pep in his step. Suddenly he remembers he needs to go to work and as my young looking dad runs down the steps out the house he trips. I obviously freak out; the memory of my dad being horribly injured suddenly hitting my dream brain making me lucid.

Tripping down the steps he angles himself to roll with minimal injury. He keeps moving like he didn’t trip and laughs at the silly mistake out the door and waving me goodbye. Realizing it was a dream at that point I noted as well that the outside that day in the dream was bright with beautiful colors, not vivid but it got the point across that it was bright and beautiful.

I woke up stunned. On the same day I ran to my dad to tell him my dream and how he was going to get better and not be in pain when he walks. He obviously was in pain and didn’t believe it because when your in it you can’t see the way out. With my dad’s determination though, he paid out of pocket for appointments and struggled financially to keep up with what he needed.

Guess what? Now he walks around without pain, no grunting or crying out. He jogs everyday now, even our neighbors told him how crazy it was to see him jogging. He still ices his back after workouts but he is himself again and that’s exactly what the dream showed me. He still exercises to this day without flinching.

So there you go! Happy ending yay! Dreams may be random sometimes but when you get lucid in them it gets real.

[paras-atashnak]

i promise i’m not saying this because i don’t like him or want him to be proven wrong or anything, but i fully believe cory would still be in the house right now too at final 5 if he didn’t flip the vote on izzy. it’s really such a shame because between cory/izzy/cirie those three would’ve been able to control the second half of the game with their social agency and the power struggle wouldn’t have been centered around comps at all but who is getting numbers behind them. i don’t blame him for picking america over his game because he’s human, but i do blame him for handing the season over to the comp beasts and ruining what could’ve been a really complex, fluid, and dynamic end game.

[cloudbattrolls]

Dead Silent

This drabble is preceded by Digging Deeper and directly followed by Abrasion.

Death can come in such strange ways. I am not one to dwell on it, but I will admit; the method here surprised even me.

--

Naturally, Ullane asks Yarrex to help investigate these leads. He checks on the graffiti, which seems to be nothing out of the ordinary - the word ‘Q-Bag’ is included, to Ullane’s dryly amused snort. She can guess where that one came from. 

He finds out that the last person to use the unlocked door was one Giorni Valtop - one of the medical staff - on his smoke break, but that the clinic’s camera footage shows no signs of a trespasser coming through it. 

Ullane muses that perhaps they could figure out if someone using cloaking tech or the like came through it, to which Yarrex responds he’s not psychic, though that would be pretty cool. He remarks that they’re not sure who threw the phone away, but he could have chrono-reactive lenses installed last night to zoom in on the trash can and find out (Ulalne rolls her eyes at that).

He hands the phone to her, having already gone dumpster diving for it in preparation, and remarks that it’s an old-style one, the kind you flip open, imagine. Also, the memory and battery cards have been removed.

Ullane mentions that such a person could still be tracked by visible breath or movement in the air, or yes, with a psychic; it’s too bad Zanzul is away now. Yarrex responds that he’s aware, but their cameras’ resolution isn’t top of the line and they’re in static positions. 

She also comments that the phone’s state isn’t strange at all; clearly it was used to communicate something the caller didn’t want any record of, and it means Halvir may not be the murderer at all, it could be someone else entirely. 

Yarrex points out that it would’ve made more sense to throw the phone away outside the clinic, and Ullane agrees. If they didn’t do that, perhaps they couldn’t, they had to get rid of it immediately for some reason…

…or, she says, struck by a sudden thought, it wasn’t a burner phone at all. It was used in some other incriminating way.

Yarrex shrugs and says he hasn’t the foggiest what it was used for if not making villainous calls.

Ullane rolls her eyes and says that their…opposition…is not ‘villainous’. At least, no more than she used to be. She isn’t an expert on technology, but she could ask Xrumon.

The brownblood warns her that if she stays too vague she’s liable to put on a tinfoil hat. He has some made, just in case. 

She retorts that she looks stupid when she wears any hat, and that she’s intentionally being careful.

Her head of security thoughtfully remarks that the walls have sponge clots…and they ooze green slime, but only on Tuesdays.

Ullane pushes him a little. Stop it with the Spongebob, she says, she hears it enough from Thrixe.

Yarrex collapses in agony, wailing for workman’s comp.

She prods him with a toe. Save it for the theater, Fissaa. Get up.

He takes out a copy of the movie “Up” from his sylladex and hands it to her. She baps him in the face with it and then puts it away in her own, silently wondering how he keeps pulling out oddly fitting objects to match what she says.

Once Ullane goes to Xrumon, he looks at the phone and says it’s a phone. Has she considered giving him a battery to turn it back on with or should he power it with one made out of spite?

Ullane placidly replies that it seems like something he could do, but she leaves and returns with a slightly odd looking battery for him to use.

Xrumon boots up the phone and notes that someone wiped the internal memory on top of tossing the external card, asking her what she thinks it was used for. 

Ullane tells him that she thinks it was used to hack the nanotech, which she knows sounds ridiculous, but she isn’t ruling anything out.

He replies that that’s easy to prove; just bring him a nanobot and a piece of bread.

Ullane frowns, finding it hard to believe it’s that simple, then retrieves the needed things quickly. She explains that usually, Friday simply controls the nanotech with her psi, since they’re technically part of her; made from her own cells’ extremely effective DNA repair that she has so her body can cope with her radioactivity manipulation ability.

But when other clinic staff use them, of course they have manual commands via a remote, or a pre-made code, like a normal robot. It’s dangerous to alter their instructions too much once they’re inside a body, though, she adds.

She hadn’t even thought they could be hacked, she muses. Or maybe the batch itself was interfered with during creation, but that seems less likely.

Xrumon, asks if there’s a specific radio frequency the nanites listen to, and Ullane confirms there is; that’s Friday’s power, after all. Electromagnetic manipulation.

The tealblood goes into the phone’s ringtone and connects it to his laptop, nothing that funnily enough their past work on Reality’s Song is helpful here. 

At first, his work produces only a tuneless noise that becomes inaudible when he puts it on the correct frequency. Then he holds it up to the piece of bread and presses play.

There is no sound.

Yet as both trolls watch, the piece of bread tears itself to pieces, spurred on by the noiseless song.

--

Such trouble gone to, simply to kill one man. Trolls die of less and for less all the time.

But one death, well placed and timed, can change everything.

[nothing-lasts-forever27]

Tagged By:

THE homie @ssoheartbreak :D (I miss you!!! ♡)

Favorite Ship Ever:

It’s been so long since I’ve been in a fandom for a work of fiction that I don’t think I have any ships anymore?? I know I definitely had some, probably a lot, but I can’t really remember most of them? Like I know I used to ship Retsuko and Haida from Aggretsuko, but I haven’t watched it since season 3 in 2020 so I don’t know if I still ship them or not bc I’m missing canon info lmao

Last Song:

Through actually listening on my own: either Work Harder - Widdly 2 Diddly & Marina Hova or Blowout - Noisemaker (both are part of the LISA OST) but the actual most recent song I listened to was a Pepper Steak remix by All Levels At Once on one of Wayne’s streams (originally by Alias Conrad Coldwood if the internet is answering my questions correctly lol also part of the OFF! OST)

Last Movie:

The last movie I *willingly* watched was The Ballad of Buster Scruggs back in early December, although I was forced to watch Christmas movies after that happened so (not counting them though bc I didn’t pay attention to them and don’t remember what they were lol)

Currently Reading:

Do tumblr posts count? Bc that’s about it haha

Currently Watching:

Lots and lots of VODs/YouTube comps of streamers I enjoy! Mostly been watching WayneRadioTV, Socpens, and Jerma985! (Current fave VODs: Wayne’s Pizza Tower stream, ANY of Scorpy’s Sims streams (Sims 2 DS/GBA are v good), and Jerma’s Wobbledogs stream)

Currently Consuming:

At this exact moment I am drinking an Ultra Sunrise Monster Energy, and I’m probably gonna eat a key lime pie flavored Chobani Flip later :) my go-to foods/drinks lately though have been Monster (Ultra Sunrise/Ultra Paradise/Pipeline Punch/Pacific Punch are my faves ^_^), Polar Seltzer (cranberry lime sweep!), Dr. Pepper, and Chex Mix (bold uwu)

Currently Craving:

A top tier nap, absolutely 10/10, fully rested and relaxed, no stiffness, pain, or agitation upon waking up, just completely rejuvenated and recovered ;w;

Tagging:

Literally anybody who sees this and wants to do it, as well as @wavecrester7 lol

(Mutuals I am compelling you to do this >:3€)

[carmodance]

I find it interesting that your reasoning for NYCDA not releasing their schedule is due to the fact that they want to keep it from “fans”. It’s giving delusion. I also think that if that is the case and a convention is releasing their schedule that they promised to release 3 days prior in just shy of 24 hours before the event simply to avoid fans… then they should rethink their policies. The parents and students should all have the necessary info with ample time. They dropped the ball.

That’s not at all what I said.

First I said the studios DO have the schedules. Most comps I can think of do get an emailed out version of the schedule earlier than it’s on the website (at least they get their studio’s schedule)

Second, the people wanting it up on the website are the fans, not registered clients. As clients would already have it. And they aren’t purposely not putting it up to keep it from fans. They just aren’t catering to their needs and wants. It could just be an oversight like someone didn’t flip the switch to release it. But no one ever writes in about schedules not being released on time unless a studio like p21 is going and it happens across the board

[wonkyreads]

Evergreen by Devil Greenlee

2.5 magical blooms out of 5

Evergreen is only in the loosest sense a reimagining of The Secret Garden, which was the main point of interest for me personally going into it, but at this point I take most comps with a grain of salt anyway. (This book is also a lesson in not judging based solely off of covers because for some reason I went into this thinking it was sapphic??)

Honestly, though, Evergreen is an urban fantasy coming of age story that leans heavily into a romance between Quill, the first male druid and a bit of a Rapunzel character, and Liam, the boy next door. Quill is tasked with taking care of his family’s magical garden while he struggles to come to terms with the fact that he’s 17 and hasn’t shown any magical capabilities of his own.

Quill is stubborn and selfish, sarcastic and incredibly bitter, yet so fully naive at times. I tend to really enjoy unlikable narrators and he definitely fits the bill, though I can’t tell if it was intentional or not. For most of the book the fact that Quill was just a teenager who made stupid or silly decisions felt like a nice change, but there’s a point where you expect the main character to grow. With Quill that switch comes late and sudden when I’d have thoroughly enjoyed a slow build. Outside of that he was sometimes very inconsistent with his narration in a way that doesn’t feel intentional. Something about him stumbling his way through the human world was just so fun to read, though what he knew and didn’t know felt like this part of his character could have benefited from being a little more thought out.

There were also times when the information he was conveying was inconsistent as well. He’d wax poetic about how he knew every inch of the garden in one chapter, then the next introduce a room he’s never been allowed inside of, then the next reveal that he hardly ever strayed past the front of the garden actually, and a few chapters later complain that he’d walked every inch of it a hundred times over the years. That inconsistency existed in other areas of the writing too, creating plot holes and convenient excuses that were difficult to ignore. I found myself fact checking (tap water does have chlorine in it more often than not and like 90% of gummy worms aren’t vegan) and constantly flipping back and forth to make sure that I wasn’t actually crazy and that there were direct contradictions happening.

That said, getting to read a story based around a family of dryads was interesting and the fantasy elements built into the world were very soft and generally fun and easy to understand. I think the soft world building was the most developed part of the story and allowed for moments that genuinely shone in my opinion. It stayed consistent in ways the other parts of the writing just didn’t.

Honestly, this book just needed another round or two of edits and some more in-depth development. The idea is solid and there are parts that made me want to like the whole book far more than I did. For instance, the ‘big bad’ and the last quarter of the book? Imagining someone just walking into town and finding that situation? Fantastic creeping horror idea. It’s going to haunt me, genuinely. (I’m trying to avoid spoilers so bad, guys.)

There are scenes that shine and the bones to a really great story, but in the end there just wasn’t enough development. I think Greenlee could do some really cool things in the future, this debut was just a little too rushed. It would have benefited from some more eyes on it and another draft, but he’s an author I’ll be keeping an eye on for sure.

[I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own. Huge thanks to NetGalley and Entangled Publishing for this ARC.]

[mass-convergence]

…. Honestly I had never thought of this before this morning but …

When I was a kid I’d definitely rip through books like no one’s business. Even when watching TV became a thing in my life like … I’d read books. Why? Because back in ye olden days, we didn’t have easy access to bingeable shows. Shit came out piecemeal, episode by episode and the whole concept of just releasing a season in one go was unheard of. So when the show I was hyper fixated on ended I would be like “AAAAAA CAN’T WAIT UNTIL THE NEXT EPISODE” then flipped through a bunch of other channels and realized everything else was boring and then either grabbed a book and went outside to build forts in the woods.

Obviously if a series has been out for a while you could find it online through legal or slightly less legal methods and watch it in one go. Which I definitely did. But I was young and poor and didn’t want to risk getting like malware on my computer.

And I could be misremembering things but really I feel like the tipping point was when I got to college and I suddenly had unfettered access to my iPhone. In high school, I had an iPhone for my senior year but it was high school and I was a goody two shoes and scared of consequences. Use of phones was not allowed during school hours and the vice principle put the fear of god in me so I never used it. (Still pissed that she reamed me out for doing my stats homework in comp sci when I had already finished my assignment in that class and the teacher had kinda tacitly told me it was cool for me to work on other shit while people were finishing up)

But college? Hoooo boy.

Especially since iPhones were starting to get these fun things called apps

Specifically gaming apps. Like Clash of Clans.

Anyway I think that was the main turning point from me pivoting from reading a fuck ton of books to just being glued to my screen. I found a new way to hit up that dopamine dispenser.

So no… the iPhone nor TV made me ADHD. I was already ADHD since childhood when I didn’t even get access to a PC let alone a phone until like middle school. If y’all want to know how bad it got - the reason I never did my homework? The reason I procrastinated on doing an important project?

It was because I had my nose in a book.

My mom literally took my books away from me because I was reading them instead of doing my homework assignments. I distinctly remember a time in middle school when I was reading Order of the Phoenix (yeah I know but we didn’t know what we knew now about her) instead of doing work on my National History Day project and my mom like stormed into my room and yelled at me for it.

Like … phones were not the problem here. Screens were not the problem here. My brain chemistry was definitely the issue.