#and instead of sleeping I wrote this

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Guilliman's Soup

"Look, I'm not going to harm any of you, not unless it involves stuffing Guilliman in a room without his....." Fulgrim trails off, the demon prince's lower half coiling in discomfort as he stares at the abomination that bubbled within the pot. It smelled distinctly of both Mjød and cigarettes, appearing as something that Fulgrim was uncertain if even a Nurgling would eat. He certainly wouldn't. Actually he doesn't think any Slaaneshi demon is depraved enough to even attempt to make such a thing. He shakes his head. "Will I be allowed to help?" Calgar, who was certainly not at all expecting to see the demon prince of excess himself at the entrance to the Imperial palace, couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand it meant that his primarch wasn't affected by any chaos god, if even Slaanesh was getting involved; on the other, did he really want to accept the help of a demon prince? Especially one that is well.... Calgar sighs deeply, "Fine, you might actually be a good deterrent to Dante anyway. He's been a pain in the ass" "Who is-" Fulgrim doesn't get to finish his sentence as a very old marine of what appears to be of the blood angel's chapter is shooed away by a serf with a broom, wacking the marine's shins with it as he hisses like an angry goose. Fulgrim has his answer on who Dante is but is now even further confused, "I thought Blood Angels were supposed to be noble?" "I'm hoping the soup will kill me" Dante helpfully responds which has the demon prince blinking in utter shock, because what the fuck happened to Sanguinius' sons!? Another Ultramarine, this one apparently named Cato is crawling on his hands and knees out of the room where Dante came from, coughing and generally being a rather sad sight with the stench of both vomit and the abominable liquid upon his breath. Slaanesh, who just briefly decided to turn her head towards whatever the fuck her demon prince was doing, vomits and mutters 'I can't believe none of this was Nurgle's idea; he actually wants the fucking recipe!'. Needless to say, Fulgrim doesn't really want to know what's exactly in that pot. Instead he dryly says "I'm amazed this hasn't summoned anything other then myself..." Calgor sighs "No, it has, there's the Sanguinor, and it's currently being kept back by some Sister of Silence out of fear that it's going to beat Dante to death with a sandle. Personally I'm not fond of trying to explain to the blood angels that we didn't kill their chapter master; it was the soul of Sanguinius, himself, that ended his life. I can't see that going too well...And Cato, please stop eating father's soup." "But-" "No buts or I'm throwing you into the same room as the Sanguinor" That stopped any more protests out of Cato who shuddered at the very idea of confronting the very angry warp spirit that was half of mind to possess someone.

The sound of what Fulgrim could still recognize after all these years as a very angry Leman Russ can be heard in the distance yelling "WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO WITH MY FUCKING MJOD, ROBOUTE!?" This was going to be a long and terrible process, Fulgrim just knows it. ____ This short story was inspired by a convo between myself and @moociaoafterdark on this post.

[proneterror204]

"Do you want to continue being a vigilante?" Batman asked his new ward Danny aka Phantom.

Danny stopped, looked confused and glanced at the batfamily like he didn't understand what was asked. " want? What does 'want' have to do with anything? I became a vigilante because I was needed, because I was the only one capable. Are you Batman because you wanted to be or because you were needed. Does anyone become a hero because they want to be or because they're needed? I wanted to become an astronaut. I never wanted to be a hero and I wasn't wanted as a hero, but I was needed or the people I loved would die. So my question is. Am I needed?"

The entire bat family is staring at him worriedly

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

. . . they say, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”, you know?

🍜 ⊹₊ ⋆~ synopsis: after a long day, you prepare a simple meal for nanami, a quiet customer who unexpectedly walks into your restaurant. his frequent visits and the conversations that follow spark a deeper connection between you two, turning these small moments into something much more meaningful.

⋆·˚ ༘ * teddy’s notes: i hope the saying is true irl too because a way to my heart is definitely through my stomach and im not even a man so yk. just something cutesy for you guys to enjoy!! (also if yk the artist pls tell me so i can credit them i couldn’t find anything on pinterest/google)

⋆·˚ ༘ * contains: ~4500 words!! pure fluff, chef!reader, gender neutral!reader, cute themes, just nanami loving your food.

it was late on a quiet weeknight when nanami— just a “handsome stranger” at the time— stepped into your small restaurant. the usual dinner rush had long since ended, leaving only the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of passing cars outside. you were just finishing up for the night, wiping down the counters and stacking dishes, when the gentle chime of the doorbell broke the silence.

you turned, surprised to see a customer this late. he stood just inside the entrance, his broad frame taking up more space than he seemed to intend. his tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and a faint trace of exhaustion clung to his features—though he still held himself with quiet composure.

“good evening,” you greeted with a smile, setting your dish towel aside. “we’re actually about to close, but can I help you with something?”

nanami’s gaze drifted over the restaurant, taking in the neatly arranged tables, the warm glow of the hanging lanterns, the faint scent of broth still lingering in the air. he exhaled softly, then looked at you.

“i don’t mean to impose,” he said, voice low, steady. “but i could really go for something simple… just something nice after a long day. i don’t want to take up too much of your time, though.”

his tone was polite, but there was a weight behind his words—a quiet kind of weariness that made you hesitate.

you glanced at the clock. technically, you had planned to close up soon, but…

you looked back at him. something about the way he stood there, tired yet restrained, made you pause.

“well,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “i could make you something quick, if you’re okay with something light.” you smiled, trying to ease the hesitancy in his expression. “it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

nanami studied you for a moment before offering a small, grateful nod. “thank you. i appreciate it.”

without another word, you slipped back into the kitchen, tying your apron back into place. the restaurant was quiet, save for the soft clatter of your utensils as you worked. the rhythmic chop of vegetables filled the space, followed by the gentle simmer of broth as you prepared something warm and comforting.

through the small opening between the kitchen and the counter, you could see nanami sitting at one of the barstools, his hands resting on the counter. he wasn’t looking at his phone or checking the time—he just sat there, still and present, taking in the atmosphere.

you found yourself watching him for a second longer than necessary before shaking yourself out of it.

it didn’t take long before the dish was ready. a fresh bowl of ramen, simple yet rich in flavor, with perfectly balanced ingredients. something warm, something soothing. something to ease the tension in his shoulders, even if just for a little while.

carefully, you set the steaming bowl in front of him.

“here you go,” you said with a smile. “hope this helps after your long day.”

nanami looked at the dish, then back at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. he picked up his chopsticks, lifting the first bite to his lips.

then, as he tasted it, his posture changed—just slightly. his eyes softened, his shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of surprise crossed his face.

“this is…” he paused, considering his words. finally, he exhaled, setting his chopsticks down for a moment. “this is really good.”

the sincerity in his voice made warmth bloom in your chest.

“i’m glad,” you said, watching as he took another bite.

you smiled, feeling a sense of pride well up inside you as you watched him eat. his face lit up, and his eyes closed for a brief moment as he savored the taste. you couldn’t help but feel pleased by his reaction.

and as the quiet night stretched on, you found yourself lingering just a little longer, watching over this tired man who had found his way to your little restaurant, seeking something warm to hold onto.

—

the next few days passed, and nanami kept returning to your restaurant after his shifts. at first, you weren’t sure if it was just convenience—maybe you were simply along his route home, or maybe he appreciated the quiet atmosphere after a long day. but as the days turned into a week, and then another, it became clear that his visits were more than just a passing habit.

sometimes he would sit in silence, his shoulders tense from the weight of the day, quietly enjoying whatever meal you’d prepared for him. he never asked for anything specific, but you always took the time to make something just right—something that would ease the exhaustion in his expression.

other times, he would ask questions. small, simple ones at first, mostly about your cooking. what spices you used in your broth, why you cut your ingredients a certain way, how you managed to make something as ordinary as rice taste so rich. he didn’t seem like someone who talked much, but with you, he was curious. interested. he listened intently, nodding along as you explained, occasionally humming in quiet appreciation.

it wasn’t long before you found yourself looking forward to his visits.

you started paying even more attention to the little things. you took extra care with every dish, making sure the broth was always the right temperature, the noodles cooked just right. you made a habit of preparing something fresh when you saw him walk through the door, plating his meals with a little more finesse, adding thoughtful touches to each dish.

and though he never outright said it, you could tell nanami noticed.

one night, after what seemed to be an especially long day, he stayed later than usual.

he had finished his usual meal, but instead of standing to leave, he leaned back slightly, exhaling a deep breath before glancing toward you.

“if it’s not too much trouble,” he said, his voice carrying the remnants of exhaustion, “i’d like another bowl.”

you blinked, surprised.

“of course,” you said, already moving to the kitchen. “extra toppings?”

nanami hummed, considering for a moment. “whatever you think is best.”

you smiled to yourself as you reached for fresh ingredients. by now, you had a sense of what he liked—subtle flavors, nothing too overpowering, but something hearty enough to satisfy him after a long day.

as you worked, you felt the weight of his gaze on you. it wasn’t the first time you’d noticed it, but tonight, it lingered.

“you seem very interested in how i make this,” you teased, glancing up from your chopping board.

he didn’t look away, nor did he try to deny it. instead, he let out a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“it’s just…” he hesitated for a moment, then sighed, as if trying to find the right words. “you’re so good at this. it’s not just the food. it’s the way you care about it.”

your hands paused briefly before you resumed slicing.

there was something different in his tone tonight—softer, more thoughtful.

“well,” you said, glancing at him again with a small, shy smile. “cooking’s always been something i put my heart into.”

nanami nodded, watching as you added the final touches to his dish.

“and it shows,” he said quietly. “i’ve never had food like this.”

you weren’t sure why his words made your chest feel so warm, why your fingers trembled slightly as you set the steaming bowl in front of him. but as nanami picked up his chopsticks, taking that first bite, you saw the way his expression softened—the tension in his jaw easing, the faintest trace of relief flickering in his eyes.

it felt good, to make him feel good.

—

for you, food had always been a way to show someone that you thought about them. throughout your life, whilst growing up with your family around, you never really saw a way for it to be different— food was the only way to go for you! add a bit more sauce because your father liked it that way, little less salt since your mother’s blood pressure could spike, making something sweeter for your little sibling’s sweet tooth, and make a little more of that dessert so your family can also enjoy it tomorrow.

it wasn’t a surprise that you thought of nanami a little more than your other clients. just like now, as he sat by the counter, enjoying your food.

after finishing the last few bites of his meal, nanami set his chopsticks down and exhaled softly. the restaurant was quiet, the hum of the lights above and the occasional distant sound of the city outside the only things filling the silence. he reached for his wallet, preparing to pay as he always did, when you spoke up.

“wait,” you said, taking a small step forward before he could stand.

he glanced up, eyebrows raising slightly in question.

“i have a little extra food tonight,” you said, your tone light, but there was a hopeful edge to it. “would you like to take some home with you?”

for a moment, nanami simply stared at you, as if caught off guard by the offer.

“are you sure?” he asked after a pause. “you didn’t have to…”

you shrugged, a small, warm laugh escaping your lips. “it’s no trouble. i made more than i needed, and i’d rather see it go to someone who’ll actually enjoy it.”

his gaze flickered toward the kitchen, then back to you, and for a second, he seemed to hesitate—like he wasn’t used to people offering him things without expecting anything in return.

but then he exhaled, something in his expression softening. “thank you,” he said, voice quieter than before. “that’s really kind of you.”

you turned, moving to the kitchen, carefully packing some of the extra food into a small container. you took your time, making sure everything was just right, adding an extra garnish on top, a touch of warmth to the simple meal. when you returned, you held it out to him with a smile.

as nanami reached out to take it, his fingers brushed lightly against yours. it was brief—just a passing touch—but it sent a faint jolt through you, something small yet noticeable.

he must have felt it too, because he stilled for a moment, his fingers curling around the container more carefully than necessary. when he looked up at you again, there was a slight, almost imperceptible blush dusting his cheeks.

“i really appreciate all of this,” he said, his voice quieter, more deliberate. “you’ve made these long days a little easier.”

his words settled over you like a soft weight, gentle but lingering.

you felt warmth bloom in your chest, spreading slowly, wrapping around your ribs. your heart skipped a beat, though you weren’t sure why. maybe because his words were the best compliment you ever received, but who knows.

“it’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head slightly, though your voice was softer now. “i’m glad i can make a difference, even if it’s just through food.”

nanami studied you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

then, slowly, he smiled—not one of those small, reserved smiles he usually gave, but something just a little fuller. just a little more real.

the moment lingered between you, stretching just a second longer than usual, before he finally stepped back.

“good night.” he said, voice low but warm.

and as he left, container in hand, you found yourself standing there for a little while longer, your fingers still tingling from where they had touched his.

—

a few nights later, nanami arrived at the restaurant a little later than usual.

it was nearing closing time, and you were already halfway through wiping down the counters, humming softly to yourself as you went through the motions of closing up for the night. you hadn’t expected anyone else to come in, but the familiar chime of the doorbell made you glance up.

there he was.

nanami stood in the doorway, looking as put-together as ever, but there was something heavier in his posture tonight. the way he rolled his shoulders slightly, the subtle way he exhaled as he stepped inside—it told you enough. it had been a long day.

“cutting it close tonight,” you teased, setting your cloth aside as you turned to face him.

nanami glanced at the clock, then back at you, offering a small sigh. “i almost didn’t make it,” he admitted, loosening his tie slightly. “but i didn’t want to miss a meal.”

your heart did an unexpected little flip.

“well,” you said, already moving toward the kitchen, “since you made the effort to come, i’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

he settled into his usual seat at the counter, watching as you moved with practiced ease. by now, this had become something of a routine, something comfortable.

after a moment, nanami broke the quiet.

“you always stay so late,” he noted, resting an elbow on the counter.

“comes with the job,” you replied. “besides, i don’t mind. especially when i have good company.”

you said it casually, but when you glanced up, you caught the slightest change in his expression—the faintest shift in his gaze, the way his fingers flexed slightly where they rested on the counter. he looked away, and for just a second, you swore you saw a hint of color on his ears.

you smiled to yourself as you reached for ingredients, deciding to make something a little different tonight—something simple but rich in flavor, something you thought he might like.

“you seem a little more tired than usual,” you commented as you worked, slicing through fresh vegetables with steady hands.

nanami let out a quiet sigh. “long day.”

“want to talk about it?”

he glanced at you, then shook his head lightly. “not much to say.”

you nodded in understanding, not pushing him for more. instead, you focused on cooking, the steady sounds of chopping and sizzling filling the comfortable quiet between you. although, it always made you wonder, what did nanami do for a living that had him so exhausted all the time. his pristine suit and printed tie only gave a vague impression of him being an office executive maybe, but you weren’t sure if that was it.

after a while, you placed the finished dish in front of him.

nanami looked at it, then at you.

“this is new,” he noted.

“thought you might like it,” you admitted, leaning against the counter with a small smile. “figured you could use something a little special tonight.”

he picked up his chopsticks and took a bite. the moment the flavors settled on his tongue, he paused, his expression flickering with something like surprise.

you leaned forward slightly. “so?”

he exhaled, setting his chopsticks down for just a moment. “this is…” he hesitated, then gave a small, genuine nod. “incredible.”

the way he said it—so simple, so sincere—made warmth bloom in your chest.

“you really think so?” you asked, unable to hide the pleased grin on your face.

nanami nodded. “i don’t say things i don’t mean.”

you watched as he continued eating, a small, content smile tugging at your lips. there was something about watching him like this—watching the tension slowly ease from his shoulders, the way his posture relaxed ever so slightly as he enjoyed the meal—that made you feel… happy.

after a moment, an idea sparked in your mind.

“want to try something fun?” you asked.

nanami raised an eyebrow. “define ‘fun.’”

you laughed, grabbing an extra set of chopsticks and holding them up. “cooking together,” you explained. “i mean, since you’re always so interested in how i do things, why not give it a try?”

he hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen, then back at you. “i’m not much of a cook.”

“all the more reason to learn,” you said with a playful shrug. “come on, it’ll be easy. i promise i won’t let you mess it up too badly.”

for a moment, he seemed to weigh his options. then, with a sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and stood.

“fine,” he muttered, giving you a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “but if this turns into a disaster, you’re taking full responsibility.”

“deal,” you grinned, already pulling out fresh ingredients.

as you guided him through the steps, showing him how to hold the knife properly, how to tell when the broth was just right, you couldn’t help but notice the way he concentrated so seriously. even when he fumbled slightly—cutting something unevenly, hesitating for a moment too long before stirring—he was so meticulous about getting things right.

“you really take everything seriously, huh?” you teased, nudging him lightly.

“if i’m going to do something, i prefer to do it properly,” he replied, frowning slightly at the vegetables he was chopping.

you laughed, watching as he carefully plated the dish he had helped prepare. it was a little clumsy, a little uneven, but it was his.

“not bad,” you said, tilting your head in approval. “you might just have a talent for this, nanami.”

he scoffed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself.”

but when you took a bite of what he made, humming in satisfaction, you swore you saw a flicker of quiet pride in his expression. a sight you quickly stored into your precious memories.

—

when people tried your food and you saw the way their curious expression instantly changed into a pleased one, eyes closing a little, delighted hums filling the air as they savoured— that was the moment you felt that it was worth it.

it happened so naturally that neither of you had time to think about it.

you had just finished plating a small dish—something simple, something warm—and nanami, standing beside you in the quiet of the empty restaurant, watched as you took a bite to taste.

“needs a little more seasoning,” you mused, tapping your chin in thought.

nanami chuckled softly, arms crossed. “it smells good regardless.”

“here,” you said before you even processed what you were doing. you picked up a small piece of food with your chopsticks, turning toward him without hesitation. “try it.”

he blinked.

for a brief moment, nanami looked at you like he wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly. his lips parted slightly, his gaze flickering from your face to the chopsticks in your hand, then back again.

“what?”

“just try it,” you said, your tone light, teasing. “you trust me, don’t you?”

there was something about the way you said it—soft, just a little playful—that made nanami exhale, his shoulders shifting like he was trying to shake off a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

still, he leaned in.

your breath hitched slightly. you hadn’t thought much about what you were doing before, but now, with him this close—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that you could see the faintest crease of exhaustion at the corners of his eyes—you suddenly became hyperaware of everything.

the way his lips parted just slightly. the way his breath fanned lightly against your fingers as you carefully placed the bite of food into his mouth. the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, slow, deliberate.

his gaze didn’t leave yours.

you hadn’t realized how still the room had become until now—how thick the air suddenly felt, charged with something unspoken.

“well?” you asked, voice quieter than before.

nanami exhaled slowly, his eyes lingering on you for just a beat too long before he finally looked away.

“it’s good,” he murmured.

you swallowed, feeling something warm bloom in your chest, something dizzying.

“see?” you teased, but your voice was softer now, almost breathless. “told you you’d like it.”

nanami didn’t answer right away. instead, he studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, sharp yet gentle all at once. the way he looked at you made your stomach flip—like he was seeing you in a way he hadn’t before, like he was memorizing every detail.

his tongue flicked out to swipe over his bottom lip, catching a stray bit of sauce, and you swore the room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.

“you always do this,” he said after a moment, his voice lower than before.

“do what?” you asked, trying to sound playful, but it came out softer than you intended.

“put so much care into everything,” he murmured. “even something as small as this.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t sure why. maybe it was the way he said it, like it meant something more. like it wasn’t just about the food.

his gaze dipped to your lips for the briefest second.

you felt your breath catch, your grip tightening just slightly around the chopsticks in your hand.

nanami was close—too close. you were used to being near him, used to leaning over the counter to hand him dishes, used to standing side by side while he watched you cook. but this was different. this was heavier, charged with something that made your pulse quicken.

for a second, you wondered if he would close the space between you. if you wanted him to.

but then, nanami straightened just slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was grounding himself.

“thank you,” he said finally, voice a little steadier now, but his eyes still held that warmth, that something lingering beneath the surface.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, smiling despite the way your heart was still racing.

“anytime.” you murmured.

but you both knew this—whatever this was—wasn’t just about food.

—

the evening had wound down, the last of the dishes stacked neatly, the gentle clinking of glassware filling the quiet. the restaurant was bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, the warmth of the space wrapping around you like a blanket. you wiped your hands on the dish towel, your body feeling pleasantly tired from a long day of cooking, but there was something else in the air—something that made your pulse flutter, a quiet tension you hadn’t noticed building between you and nanami until now.

after the kitchen had quieted down and the last plates were cleaned, you found yourself standing by the counter, leaning against it with a soft sigh of contentment. the dim light from the overhead bulbs cast a warm glow over the space, and the peaceful silence of the restaurant after hours felt comforting. the air was thick with the remnants of laughter and conversation, both of you savoring the aftermath of a meal well-prepared and well-enjoyed.

you glanced over at nanami, who was standing just a little too close to you. his hands were resting casually on the edge of the counter, but there was a softness to the way he was looking at you—something that wasn’t just about the food anymore. the weight of his gaze, the way he took you in with a quiet intensity, made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“thank you for all your help tonight,” you said softly, breaking the silence, your voice low but warm, the softest hint of a smile on your lips as you wiped your hands on a towel.

nanami didn’t look away, his eyes following every movement, lingering on your face as though he was searching for something, as if you were the only thing in the room. “no, thank you,” he replied, voice even lower now, a bit more intense. “I really enjoy spending time with you.”

the words lingered in the space between you, the weight of them pulling you both into a moment that felt a little too close, a little too intimate for the setting. his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you felt the air thicken between you, as if something unspoken was finally bubbling to the surface.

your pulse quickened, an unfamiliar heat blossoming in your chest, and before you could even think about what was happening, nanami took a small step forward. his hand, large and warm, cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in the most tender of touches.

“nanami—” you whispered, but your words were cut off by the feeling of his lips pressing against yours.

it was a kiss that caught you off guard. soft, tentative at first, like he was asking for permission, testing the waters. you froze for a moment, caught in the quiet tenderness of it. but then, slowly, as your lips parted and you found yourself leaning into him, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more hungry.

his free hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat of his body, the quiet strength of him against you. your hands found their way to his chest, the rhythm of your heart now mirroring the thrum of electricity that ran between you.

the kiss was full of everything you’d been holding back, all the moments and glances and touches that had lingered too long, all the conversations that felt too intimate for just two people sharing a meal. it was all there, flooding the space between you both in the soft heat of his kiss.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the kiss, you were met with nanami’s flushed face. his eyes were darker now, clouded with something more, something that spoke of desire and longing.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice rougher than usual, barely above a whisper.

the words sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but smile, still dizzy from the heat of him. “me too,” you confessed, your voice small, your heart racing with the realization that this was more than just a passing attraction.

nanami’s thumb brushed your cheek gently, a soft, tender motion that contrasted with the fire burning between you. his gaze softened as he leaned in again, forehead resting against yours for just a moment. “so… how about a proper date next time?”

you chuckled softly, the tension still hanging in the air, but now with the lightness of anticipation. “I’d like that,” you breathed out, your lips still tingling from the kiss, your heart still pounding in your chest.

as nanami pulled away slightly, his hand still lingering on your neck, his eyes softened, but the intensity was still there, still simmering beneath the surface. “good,” he murmured, the word carrying more weight than you could have imagined.

the moment stretched between you both, a shared understanding passing silently, and you realized that this was only the beginning. your relationship, born out of the shared simplicity of a meal, had blossomed into something deeper, more meaningful, and the connection between you both was undeniable.

as nanami took a small step back, the space between you still felt charged, the air around you thick with everything you hadn’t said yet, everything you both knew was coming. you realized then that this was more than just a kiss. it was the beginning of something else—something that was just as deep and satisfying as the meals you had shared, but infinitely more meaningful.

[megumismyhusband]

rin itoshi acts stoic, pretending your affection doesn’t faze him, but his body betrays him. His ears turn red when you kiss his cheek, and his lips quirk into a faint smile when you hug him. If you skip a hug or kiss one day, he’ll brood about it, replaying every moment to figure out if he upset you.

rin who secretly adores seeing you in his clothes. he'll sneaks extra jerseys and hoodies into your wardrobe, pretending they "must've ended up there by accident." he can’t help but smile when he sees you wearing them.

rin sucks at cooking but will attempt to learn how to make your favorite dishes so he could cook them for you whenever you'd like.

the keychain you gave rin? It’s clipped securely to his bag or shoved deep in his pocket when he’s on the field. He touches it before every game for luck, and if he ever loses it, he’ll go into full panic mode.

wanna do his makeup? deal. wanna paint his nails? go ahead. feel the need to put your pretty boyfriend in a dress? he'll let you. but only as long as you agree not to show anyone his baby pictures.

pda isn't rin's style, but in private? he’s all in. he’ll pull you close, tuck your head under his chin, and let you trace random patterns on his chest while you talk about your day.

rin might not always say, "i love you," but his actions speak volumes. from memorizing your coffee order to holding your hand in a crowded room, every little thing he does screams devotion.

[spoopdeedoop]

very very late to the party on the lost in the woods somewhere beeduo fae au by @hellenite but i am here now and it is taking over my brain like a very fast growing moss of some sort

[twijaxx]

Rin who love to cuddle and simply can’t fall asleep when you are not in his arms, but sadly you are a night owl and you stay up to ungodly hours. Rin was a night owl too but now he has practice early in the mornings and he forces himself to sleep early (which is very hard)

Rin who wakes up in the middle of the night only to feel you are not besides him, he starts to panic while really bad thoughts run thru his head, but then he remembers that almost every night after you realize he has fallen asleep you quietly go to the living room so you won’t disturb his sleep with your stupid tiktok videos.

He rubs his eyes, still half asleep but he knows he won’t be able to fall back asleep if you are not cuddled up with him. As Rin gets closer to the living room he hears an ASMR tiktok that’s probably played like 100 likes already cause when he enters the living room you’re long asleep on the couch. He stares at you for couple of seconds.

“why do i love you so much..” he mutters to himself.

He gently pick you up from the couch, like you where a porcelain doll he couldn’t drop or else you will break, as he carried you to the bed you started to murmur something, he stoped for a second, scared that you will wake up, but you simply just turned your head to the other side. He sighed softly as he again started to walk to the bedroom

When he arrived he putted you down on the bed, praying that you won’t wake up from the sudden change of your surroundings, he crawled back into the bed right besides you, and he could finally peacefully sleep with you in his arms.

M.list

[imfinereallyy]

Steve finds love in clean sheets.

He comes home on a Wednesday night to his, Robin’s, and Eddie’s apartment, exhausted. They are packed in like sardines in the place; Robin gets a room to herself, having the space to create her own identity. But Eddie and Steve share a room and do so without much complaint.

They both want her happy.

They are friends, so it’s normal to share a room. It’s probably less normal to share a bed—but the space is small and they have so many things, so sharing a full bed is easier than squeezing twins into corners.

Steve doesn’t mind it being so close to Eddie. Thinks he should be worried about that feeling, but finds he isn’t bothered at all.

Their habits rarely butt heads, their organization skills somehow meet in the middle, and Steve doesn’t care how Eddie decorates as long he’s okay with the nail bat placed under the bed.

The only thing that is a problem that really isn’t much of a problem, is the bed sheets. Sometimes, Eddie forgets, so Steve’s taken it upon himself to change them. It’s not that he doesn’t like the smell of Eddie that lingers. It smells of a home he didn’t know he had on a warm summer day.

But after work, especially on hard days, Steve likes to shower and bury himself beneath clean sheets. The cold, smooth texture rubbing against he legs, the fresh linen scent feeling up his nose.

Steve doesn’t think Eddie notices; he is almost positive, and even if he did, he wouldn’t bat an eye. So Steve changes his sheets every five days or so, more often than really necessary.

Until this Wednesday night.

Steve isn’t having a good day—in fact, he would categorize it as one of his worst yet. Work was hell, and nothing was going his way. Steve walks into the apartment to see Robin and Eddie on the couch, and all Steve wants is to shower and crawl into a clean bed.

The problem is, though—the day from hell has actually been the week from hell, and Steve realizes he hasn’t changed his sheets in a week.

Steve groans as he heads towards the shower, ignoring the curious look from his friends. He begrudgingly accepts his fate—a dirty bed in exchange for an early sleep. Steve bangs his head on the bathroom wall.

Steve exits, and moves to his room to throw on boxers and a tshirt he almost sure is Eddie’s.

Then, he lifts the blankets and snuggles inside only to realize—the sheets feel amazing. They feel clean.

Steve glances down at them, realizes they are the flower sheets Eddie hates—replacing the dark grey ones that had been there this morning.

Steve knows undoubtedly that Eddie is the one who changed them. Steve could write it off as Eddie finally remembering a chore, but he can’t lie to his heart.

It knows Eddie did this for him.

Steve lets out a huge sigh of relief as he sinks down into the clean sheets, the smell of linen wafted through the air with hints of Eddie’s cologne from his shirt.

Steve snuggles into the bed—taking Eddie’s pillow instead of his own, and falls asleep to the steady thought that Steve Harrington is in love with Eddie Munson.

It’s the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had.

[leeny-leens]

"Please, don't leave"

But it's Theodore Nott horrified at his own anger, the one he's gotten from his father. The anger that has him growing horns and fangs that bury deep into the flesh, claws that rip everything apart.

It's Theodore Nott scared that even the most marginal bit of anger will turn him into a monster like his father was and begging you to please see past it, see him as you always have because if you of all people stop seeing him, was he ever capable of being anything more than a rotten clump of evil and dark?

And so against his better judgment, he sinks to his knees and holds onto you for dear life, begging and babbling through his tears asking you to please not leave him, he doesn't know what to do if the only person who's made him feel remotely human were to leave.

And you can't help but cry at the sight of the boy who thinks his anger makes him a monster, the boy who thinks any sort of reaction or emotion means he's like his father, damned to hurt anyone he loves.

Therefore you just pull him up and take his hand, hugging him tightly as you comfort him, reminding him that while his anger might be scary to him, he isn't scary, he isn't monstrous and he isn't bad. He asks you if you'll leave, and you reply asking him if he wants some space. He can only shake his head in silence, his hands tightening around you like you're his anchor in the raging storm. His voice is hoarse when he asks you to stay the night, stay by his side because he can't bear waking up to see you gone like everyone else.

And that night, you don't leave. Not even when night turns into morning, or when evening comes around. You stay by his side, steady and calm and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he isn't a monster after all.

[pippin-katz]

Edwin's Parents Canonically Did Not Hug Him

I was watching interviews of the boys for a post I'm working on, and fucking excuse me?!

Source: Advocate Channel Interview, Timestamp 3:17

We have confirmation from George that Edwin's parents did not hug him while he was alive. It's due much more to the time period rather than neglectful parenting, but that is still crazy to think about. He also says "parents", meaning both his father and his mother; neither of them gave him any kind of physical affection.

The repressive time period causing Edwin's parents to be very emotionally absent from his life is not a new concept, and it gets brought up in varying intensities in fanfics I've read, but it always felt like a fuzzy, floating concept based on speculation heavily supported by probability. I knew it was an accurate assumption, but I couldn't reach out and touch it, if that makes any sense. Now, it's concrete in my mind.

It gives this scene even more weight:

Edwin's expressions, while already perfectly understandable, make even more sense. The way he's seemingly pained by the embrace at first. He did not even realize how badly he needed and wanted this kind of affection.

There is such a strong surge of pure joy, comfort, and love from the hug that it hurts him, because he realizes in that moment what he's been deprived of his entire life and existence. Edwin has existed for over a hundred years, and even though it's hard to believe, they've never hugged each other like this in the thirty years they've been together. I don't think I could ever confidently say that they never hugged, ever, in thirty years, especially given how physical Charles is with his affection.

But that expression on Edwin's face in undeniable.

George says earlier in video that Edwin "lacks the skill set to keep up" with all of the new emotions he's experiencing, and you can feel that in the way his face changes.

Edwin hugs him back, and lets out a big breath, relieved and satisfied by the embrace. The wave of emotions passes as he realizes that even if he overwhelmed and terrified by the love he's feeling, it feels good to hug Charles. He realizes that he wants to hug Charles, that he's allowed to want to hug Charles, and that he actually can hug Charles.

God, the amount of emotions Edwin has in that moment that he's completely unequipped for, simply because he's never experienced it, not even from the people closest to him in life. It's heartbreaking, but seeing him learning how it feels to be loved for the first time is so beautiful.

Edwin, the character that you are... George Rexstrew, the actor that you are... 😔🩵

(ko-fi)

[aidansloth]

Late Nights On Kitchen Floors Sometimes Lead To Confessions

Summary: You come home late one night to find your roommate Jason sobbing on the kitchen floor.

Warnings and A/N: some negative self-thoughts on Jason’s side. In this fic Jason is feeling a lot of feelings :) because we love our men crying and traumatized. Pre-relationship! This is my first time writing for Jason so I hope I did him justice. Written in the second person, gender neutral reader, I tried to make reader as inclusive as possible so if I missed something please let me know! JUSTKNOW that my heart broke while writing this. (final note, I wrote this at 4am so don’t judge me)

Words: 0.9k

I also posted this on ao3 if you want!!

Click

You secure the last of the locks on your door as you start to take your boots off along with your coat. Immediately as you stepped in your mind went into autopilot, following your routine so effortlessly that only after what was definitely too many seconds do you notice a heaving sound coming from your kitchen. 

“Jason?”

The words leave your mouth with a tinge of hope that it was just him and not a break-in you’d have to deal with at this ungodly hour in the morning. You check the time with a flick of your phone. 2:14am. 

You receive no response and reach for the bat Jason insisted you left hidden in the umbrella stand. You can never be too safe were his exact words and you’d honestly have to thank him if you made it out tonight. It’s only when you cross the door that you see him: Jason and all of his 6 feet of muscles are scrunched up into a wavering ball, his hands clutching his clothes and his head planted into his knees. All this time you’ve known him and yet he has never looked as vulnerable as he does now, on your dusty crumble-covered floor with tears in his eyes. 

At first no words come out of your mouth, how could they? You’ve talked to Jason just a couple of hours ago on your phone, he called saying he just wanted to hear your voice. He was fine earlier. He was. He asked how your day was. He listened, hanging off your every word. But now here he was in front of you, a broken shell of a man.

Trying to not startle him you get closer and call out his name again. This time he hears you.

He lifts his head and you can see smudged tear stains all over his face probably from an attempt to erase them. An hiccup escapes him and your heart breaks. 

“Oh baby,” you scooch in front of him and take his face in your hands. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

He can’t speak. The words are jabbed in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He opens his mouth but nothing other than a strangled sound comes out. You start petting his hair.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything alright?” 

You settle on the floor and try to maneuver his body onto yours, his head on your shoulder. His body adapts to yours, his arms wrap around you and he feels like everything is going to be alright. One of your hands runs up and down his spine in a soothing manner while the other is nestled in his hair. 

A couple of minutes pass and you’re still holding him. Jason thinks he likes it. Being held, that is. 

After some more time his head lifts from your shoulder and your hands move to his forearms, caressing the skin there. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before speaking.

“I, ehm…” Jason’s gaze lays low and his hands start to play with yours. “I have to tell you something.” 

You nod and tell him to take his time. He bites his lip, still looking down. 

“I- Fuck, I messed this up. I really did. This was gonna be so much more romantic I swear. I was gonna- I was gonna invite you to that one bookstore we always go to, I was going buy you all the books you set your eyes on and- and I planned a walk through the park- the one- the one you like-” his voice keeps breaking and hiccuping, “-and walk through the flowerbeds and maybe if the day had gone well I would have had the courage to hold your hand.” he wipes a tear off his face with the palm of his hand. 

You try to speak but he speaks first.

“I like you. I really really like you. I wanted to do this well, tomorrow, but- I don’t know. I got too much in my own head and I’m-” Jason bites his lip and tears fill his eyes again, “I’m really sorry this is how I confess, you deserve so much better, so much better and I’m a mess and, and-” you grab his face and force him to look at you. 

“Jason Peter Todd, you listen to me carefully.” his big teary eyes look at your stern ones, “The only reason I’m not kissing you right now is because you deserve a beautifully romantic first kiss because you like beautifully romantic things. You deserve all the wonderful things this world has to offer.”

Jason thinks his heart has never felt so warm. 

“Wha-what?”

His words make you giggle and now he thinks his heart might actually implode. 

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Now your giggle turned into a proper laugh which made Jason smile. 

“Yeah, that was pretty obvious from the earlier declaration of love.” Now he’s giggling too. 

“Does that ehm- does that mean you want to be my girlfriend?” You giggle again at the innocence in his voice and Jason thinks he’d die all over again just for a chance to hear you laugh one more time.

“Yes, yes it does. Only if you take me to that date you were talking about though.”

He smiles. “We could go now.”

Your eyes widen. “Now? At 2am?”

He shrugs. “I’m Red Hood. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

You scoff. “Yeah alright, but I think the bookstore might be closed.”

“Ah. Right. Tomorrow then.”

“Eager?”

His smile only gets bigger. “Duh, I have a girlfriend to take out.”

Thank you for reading!! Constructive criticism/advice is always welcome!

[zweetpea]

Neuvillette: Please stop making fun of me if I misuse references to Popular Culture and Media. I’m really trying. Are we cowabunga on this?

You: *Holding back tears and laughter* Yep. We’re cowabunga on this. You’re doing great sweetie.

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

You Had Me at...

He didn't know why he was even still awake.

No, that was a lie.

He knew exactly why, but he also knew it was stupid and silly and completely outside the realm of possibility. He just hadn't been able to help himself.

He'd stayed up and watched the clock, waited as the minutes ticked by until it was officially Valentine's Day, and held his breath...

And then nothing.

He'd huffed out a laugh, telling himself he was more embarrassed than disappointed because honestly, what had he expected?

Evan to show up at the door to declare his love? To want to get back together?

To want him?

That wasn't Tommy's life. That was fantasy. The stuff of romcoms, not the real world.

Reality was getting into his ratty pajama pants and an ancient, worn-soft LAFD t-shirt (that still had a B and a U and a half-peeled Y on the back) and accepting the fact that he was once again alone for this stupid, fake holiday...that he absolutely loved.

Sighing, he made his way out to the kitchen and dug around in his freezer until he found the pint of cookie dough ice cream that Evan had left there and Tommy had been avoiding for the past three months. What was the point of leaving it? Evan was never coming back. It wasn't like he'd be there to get mad at Tommy for eating it and why let it go to waste?

He stood there, staring at the ice cream.

His therapist would have plenty to say about him struggling to let himself have things, but that was a problem for Tuesday Tommy.

...screw it.

He was eating the ice cream.

Tommy snatched the container out of the freezer and set it down on the counter, ignoring its accusing stare as he grabbed a spoon out of the drawer.

"This is for the best," he muttered. "I'm putting us both out of our misery, okay? We can't wait forever. He's never coming back."

He tapped the spoon against the lid, frowning when a faint knock sounded back.

"What the fu-"

The knock again, louder this time and clearly coming from the front door.

Tommy set the spoon down beside the ice cream, grabbed his phone, and crept down the hallway toward the door. He was still debating calling 911 when he caught sight of a familiar silhouette through the window and his heart stopped.

He'd know those curls anywhere.

Evan startled, hand still raised when Tommy whipped open the door.

"Shit," he said, eyes going wide. "I mean, not sh-not that, I just...I wasn't expecting you to answer so quickly and I'm still kind of working on what I'm going to say..."

"...did you want me to close the door and give you a minute?" Tommy asked after another weighted beat passed between them. He'd stand back in the hallway for as long as it took. As long as Evan needed.

"No!" Evan jolted forward, hand flexing like he was ready to catch it - as if Tommy would willingly close a door between them ever again. "I..."

Tommy waited, drinking in the sight of Evan as he fidgeted on the front porch. He itched to tug the lip free that he was chewing on, but he was equally afraid to touch him.

He didn't think he could bear it if this turned out to be a dream.

"I watched them all," Evan blurted out suddenly. He rubbed at the back of his neck, cheeks going red. "All of the movies I could remember from your shelves. T-the romance ones? And then Maddie recommended some more."

Tommy didn't know what to make of that. "Why-"

"Because everyone said I wasn't allowed to bake anymore," Evan said, as though that was a sentence that would clear things up. "But I had to do something, right? To stop myself from calling you every second that I was awake."

Wait, what?

"And I figured, if I couldn't stop thinking about you, then at least, I could maybe get inside your head and try to understand where we went wrong - where I went wrong," Evan barreled on like he wasn't completely upending Tommy's brain. "I watched them all and in every single one, ever single one, the couple has a fight and b-breaks up because, well, for all kinds of reasons, but it was because they were always missing what was right in front of them."

Evan took a deep, steadying breath, bracing himself on the doorframe. "I said a lot of stuff that night, but I missed saying the most important thing of all. I felt it, felt it so much it felt too big to say, but that was a mistake." He looked up, meeting Tommy's gaze with bright eyes.

"I love you, Tommy. I love you. I'm sorry I did everything backwards and managed to leap ahead all at the same time." Evan shook his head, blinking back tears as Tommy fought to hold back his own.

"I'm sorry I ever made you doubt that what I feel for you is real," he said "The most real and right thing I think I've ever felt in my life and I don't want to lose you. The last few months have been...I felt like I was missing a part of myself. Like my heart has been out there in the world without me and I've hated every minute of it."

"Please," Evan said, searching Tommy's face, hope threaded through every letter. "I know we have a lot we need to talk about, but can we - can we try again?"

Tommy took a shaky breath, still half-convinced he was about to wake up and have all of this ripped away from him.

"Please say something," Evan whispered, his shaky plea finally snapping Tommy into action.

He reached out to cup Evan's cheek, stroking a thumb against his skin as he leaned in. "You had me at 'shit'," Tommy said, a helpless smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

Evan's mouth dropped open as Tommy's words sank in. Relief warred against an extreme pout as he poked at Tommy's chest. "Did you seriously just Jerry Maguire me? I can't even-"

The rest of his protest was cut off when Tommy yanked him inside the house for a searing kiss, kicking the door shut behind them.

"I love you too," Tommy murmured against Evan's lips as he pressed him into the wall. He tried to get the apology he'd been agonizing over for the last three months out between kisses. "I'm sorry I ran. I got scared and stupid and I want this. Want you. Want everything."

Evan groaned, grabbing at him as he gave back as good as he got, kissing every part of Tommy he could reach without letting him move an inch out of his arms.

"Stay," Tommy gasped when they finally broke apart for air. "Please stay and just sleep beside me and we can talk properly in the morning?" He wasn't prepared to let Evan out of his sight any time soon.

"Try and get rid of me," Evan said with a little laugh as he rested his forehead against Tommy's. They kissed once more, softly, knowing they had time now. Letting out a happy sigh, Evan dropped a tiny peck on the end of Tommy's nose before releasing him and moving toward the kitchen.

Tommy went to lock the door, freezing when Evan let out a garbled noise of outrage.

"Is this my ice cream?"

Biting back a grin, Tommy headed toward Evan and his continuing grumbles...

And let his grin actually spread when he rounded the corner to find Evan standing there, holding out a second spoon.

[alzrite]

Theres something falling from the sky and its falling fast.

So, what does Jon do? He catches it. Only it is not an it that he caught but a she. And she is dripping green all over. And boy does the green sure looks like its blood with all the gashes it was oosing out of.

Jon panics and does the only thing he can think of.

"DAD!"

Superman appears beside him near insantly.

"Jon, what's-"

He stops mid question as he spots the girl in his arms.

"Let's get her somewhere safe."

[gauloiseblue]

[TW: rape, non-con, dark]

There's something about stray dog's behavior that speaks König to me.

He'd been kicked around, ridiculed, and left on the cold pavement alone. He had no real house, and had to beg even for a scrap of food. Those were the factors that forced him to grow teeth way earlier—and sharper—than he's supposed to.

He'd held the bitterness in his heart, causing him to despise the weak, the poor who couldn't stand up for themselves. The perfect replica of his past self.

He hated seeing them, he'd even go as far as 'taking care' of them. Letting them know that no one would help them, no one would come to the rescue. Just like what people did to him back then.

He recognizes his contribution to the vicious circle, yet he finds himself helpless as he's unable to break free from it.

Perhaps that's when God decided to punish him for it.

There's a mission that required him to work together with the other team, and met with the reprisal for his bad deed, in the form of a medic.

He didn't spare a glance at her, didn't acknowledge her existence, until she defended her patients in front of him.

One of the missions went wrong, causing the soldiers to be injured by gunshots and a grenade. It was theirs to blame, because they didn't pay attention enough, but she shouted at him, telling him if he'd given them a deserved break, it would've been avoided.

He, of course, was angry at her.

He told her she didn't know anything, that she's hindering the mission. But she didn't flinch, even when he growled at her.

It frustrated him, because even his glare would send his soldiers running. Yet it didn't work on her. The people who's not afraid of him are usually those in power, but she isn't one of them. She's just a mere medic.

He tried to kick her out of the team, but the higher ups told him that there's no one available for her replacement. He also tried to make her quit, but what he did came back around to him, as he received a penalty.

It stresses him out, to the point that he'd overwork himself to distract him from his thoughts.

One day, a bullet passes through his heart and lungs, causing him to collapse on the spot.

In daze, when his consciousness slips in and out, he thinks how he could've easily avoided it. But his body wasn't listening to him, delaying his feet to move back.

In what feels like months, he opens his eyes for the first time after the incident.

What he sees, is a pale light on the ceiling, and a blurry figure by the bed.

And there she stands, just like the angel of mercy.

She doesn't say much, except for telling him to rest, and that he's lucky he survived.

She tells him the same thing for days, before he can muster two words out of his mouth.

Shut up.

And strangely, she smiles.

"Seems like you've recovered well." She responded, "Welcome back."

She continues to nurse him, despite his snarky remarks that she easily deflects. She takes care of him with patience that should've withered away from the moment she joined the army.

It shouldn't have bloomed in front of him.

For the first time in his life, he feels the weight of his guilt on his chest. He could've been kinder, could've been softer, and he would've broken the cycle just like she did. But he chose to nurture his anger—just like his father, and his father's father.

Then again, she could've gotten it easy from the start. Though in his heart, he knew it's just an excuse for his behavior.

The day he's permitted to work again, he left without saying thank you.

At night, he wonders if she'd come to hate him as well. No one would blame her if she does, but deep in his heart, he hopes she doesn't.

Since that day, he has followed her like a lost dog. But he would turn his head away whenever she looked at him.

Sometimes he scoffs at himself for thinking about injuring himself, just so he could receive her care. Yet he couldn't help but panting at her feet, lapping up every little conversation they made. He wants to surrender himself to her, letting her put a collar around him and call him hers.

And it's all because she showed just a little kindness to him.

On lonely missions, or lonely nights, he often imagines what they could be. Living in the suburbs, white fences, and kids. The picture perfect of the marriage.

Until it all shatters on the ground.

It's not his intention to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help but lean in when he hears her voice. She sounds happier, as she shows her friend the ring on her finger.

So he bares his teeth,

And bites.

(One time, his uncle had to put down their dog

Because he bit his children for no reason—

Other than jealousy

He heard the dog whined

on the cold table,

alone, and scared

As the vet slowly pushed the poison

Into his bloodstream

And God, how cruel is it

To put a heart inside of a beast

When all his life

He only knew

How to bite?)

He pants as he presses himself into her, causing her to whimper, as her voice is long gone from screaming and crying.

She must've had no idea of what's coming to her when he called her to his office. The scratches and bruises on his body were enough proof of her gullibility, that she came to him, unassumingly, and trusting.

He had her bent over his desk, smothering her easily with his body as he forced himself into her. She was a fighter, but not strong enough to defeat him.

He had lost his inhibitions, as his back arched for the eighth time, spilling his seeds into her.

And she's lost as well, as her eyes were unfocused, and all her energy had been zapped from her body.

"Leave him." He said, as he drove himself into her once again.

She lets out a high-pitched moan when his cock stretches her open again, filling the room with sticky sounds.

"Leave him and love me instead." He said for the second time, and she cried in pain when he buried himself too deep.

"Love me," He sobbed as he pulled the ring out of her finger, knowing fully well he couldn't replace it without twisting her arm. "Please love me."

Her tears flood her cheeks as she watches him discard the ring from her, before latching his mouth onto her shoulder. Marking her with another bite, drawing yet another blood with his teeth.

He knew she had closed her heart the moment he slammed her on the table. He knew she wouldn't come to love him. But if he's not loved by her, then no one should.

[neuro-psyche]

jason todd is a girls girl.

let me explain (ik ik i say that a lot)

Jason Peter Todd will stand on business if it means helping someone out, especially a woman.

A creepy man following you home? woah that's crazy jason todd is very suddenly your friend and just so happens to be walking the same way.

Someone being a dick to you in public and making a scene? jason intervenes, handling the person after calling you a cab and paying for it up front.

You need someone to watch your drink? Mr. Fucking Red Hood will stand with a gun held over the drink until you get back, regardless of what he was doing.

Jason Todd is a girls girl in my mind and I will die on this fucking hill.

seriously though I feel like he and Steph would recreate that sonic meme that's like

Steph, saying something about how she, Cass and Babs are better than the rest : -and I'll prove once and for all that a female can be just as good of an hero as a male!

Jason : You know, anytime someone calls attention to the breaking of gender roles, it ultimately undermines the concept of gender equality by implying this is the exception and not the status quo.

Steph :

Jason :

Everyone and their mother :

Jason : What? Just because I'm a resurrected zombie freak and assassin, doesn't mean I'm not a feminist. I read pride and prejudice, dammit.

[juricel]

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x yandere! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, mention of cannibalism, mind break, physical abuse, emotional abuse, kidnapping, stalking, heavy obsessive and possessive behavior, vomit, codependency, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ oh, how shadow milk cookie loves—no, how he was so infatuated with you! he adores you; from the your waxen complexion, to your eternal devotion! It adds a stroke of layer to his already overflowing ego, bringing him beyond ectastic, of course you'd love him! there was no other way, it was just as fate concluded! but did he love you as much as you do? oh, he does. he does. he does. he loves you so much, it drove him to the escarpment of lunacy.

𖦁‎ although he admires your faithfulness to him, I'm certain you can forgive him when he takes advantage of it, don't you? oh, it's just too endearing to watch for him not to do so! more often than not, he makes use of your possessiveness towards him—purposely provoking you and intentionally flirting with other cookies right in front of you when he knows you have been trailing after him discreetly. your reactions afterwards only fuel his desires to do it even more! maybe if you weren't so cute, he wouldn't do it as much as he does but you were just too adorable for him. running his slender fingers along the strands of your hair, he cooes and whispers sweet nothings to your ears: all the while telling you that had you been better, he wouldn't have flirted with the other cookie. please kick him, thanks. oh, but don't do it back to him! getting you jealous is one thing, but getting /him/ jealous on purpose? my dear, he'd break your little legs and arms as a punishment, forcing you to cannibalize the cookie isn't off the table either!

𖦁 oh and your love for him... your love for him, oh, he'd take such a good care of it—a care to please himself with. he'd spur you on with motivating words even as you're on your wits end, a sickenly big smile blossomimg over his lips as your knees buckle up beneath you and your hands desperately clasp over your mouth as bile rushes up your throat, he'd chirp and inquire you if you're fine, and yet his calloused hand would press against stomach, urging you to vomit than you have. he'd hang you over the edge of high buildings, whether off the rooftop or over the window—he'd choke you, threatening to drop you, delightful of the fear creeping up your expression, oh, for your face to turn blue, for you to choke until foam builds up in your mouth... it gets him all giddy! how could he not when you're like that? you're just too cute! he loves breaking you apart, he loves seeing you cry, loves seeing you angry, loves seeing you defiant, and especially, he loves seeing you filthy, and despite how cruel he was to you, you would still stay with him no matter what for he was your universe; to you, to die, to fade and decay in the absence of his light would be the easiest task, a dandelion blown away in the wind, an inevitable demise in the foreseeable winter. but to rot within the earthbread with the lack of his presence, oh, It is an aberration! a blasphemy born into the world scraping, weeping, and aching for death, to live without him was a torturous sentence you wouldn’t commute on the worst offender, much less expect them to endure and thrive, a sickly, pale glowing, cave-dwelling weed devouring a pinlight of sun.

𖦁‎ however, regardless of how much you devote yourself to him, his distrust of you knows no bounds, and it certainly doesn't mean you're safe from abductions. he believes you're safer that way! being surrounded by those pesky, revolting imbeciles called cookies only brings you more harm! come to his realm, you're safer within his clutches! don't you trust him? he has more than enough gifts to shower you with! his manipulation is endless, every act is calculated to make you feel like you’re at the center of his universe, even as it slowly closes in around you, each made to fit into his script but surely, you musn't mind, you love him so much after all, right?

𖦁 shadow milk cookie is cruel and atrocious but he loved you, didn't he? he was a pentapod monster, but he loved you. he was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, but he loved you, he Ioved you! kissing you was not enough. to become your god was not enough, embraces were not enough. love was not enough, he wanted to become bounded with you, to become as one. 

a/n: surprisingly, the shadow milk cookie fics here are vanilla... i do adore it but i love unhinged shadow milk cookie.