#but just found it in my drafts and wanted to post

[daydreamingatnight209]

“I Don’t Like Sleeping Without Her”

Authors note - I was confident about this one but now I’m not sure. I hope you guys still enjoy 🥺. As always feedback is welcome, hate is not ✨💕

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summery - In which Charles mentions your habits in an interview on media day. - Fluff 💕

Warnings - None? I don’t think 😂

————————————————————————

You didn’t mean to fall asleep on the sofa, it just sort of … happened.

One moment you were finishing off a last round of edits for a client, scrolling through other projects or drafts or catching up on emails, and the next … your eyes would blur, feeling too heavy to keep open, your laptop sliding off your knee onto the empty spot next to you, waking up hours later with a stiff neck and your boyfriend, Charles, crouching down beside you.

You remember the first time that it had happened, you remembered the panic in Charles eyes when he found you still in the living room at 2am, and how he thought that he had done something to upset you.

“Mon ange, why are you here?” He’d asked you softly, his voice still heavy with sleep.

(Translation - My Angel)

You had smiled, barely awake. “I didn’t want to wake you, you need your sleep”

You knew that he did - between traveling, the races, back to back weekends and his training ensuring that Charles was well rested was a non-negotiable.

On the other hand, your job in the media industry as a videographer meant that your working hours didn’t always finish in the evening. Charles knew this, but he wasn’t used to falling asleep without you just yet.

Over time, it had become a routine, you would stay up late and when Charle did awake to find you still not beside him, the panic would subside as he knew exactly where to find you.

When he awoke out of habit to find your bed empty, he would drag himself out of bed and walk to the semi permanent spot you find yourself in. He would stand for a moment and smile to himself. You looked so peaceful. He never understood how you could sleep like that; curled up on the sofa, one arm tucked under your cheeks and your laptop half hanging off the coffee table. He didn’t feel like just leaving you there that night.

Trying to wake you he whispers his favourite nickname down your ear.

“Mon amour?” (Translation - My Love)

No answer.

So he slipped his arms under your legs and shoulders, carefully lifting you up, trying his hardest not to wake you. You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before passing back out with your head against Charles chest.

“I got you Bebe” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. (Translation- Baby)

He made quick work of carrying you through the apartment and putting you down in the bed to rest properly. You were already fully settled when he slid into the beside you as your hand instinctively finds his under the duvet.

These are the parts he liked most, the quiet, peaceful just them kind of moments.

However, come next morning and it wasn’t just between the two of you anymore. A few days prior to that sweet interaction, Charles had done an interview for the F1 media day.

“Charles, there’s been some talk from the paddock… something about your girlfriend falling asleep on the sofa?”

“Ah yes. Y/N she works late,” Charles was saying, standing relaxed in front of a backdrop full of sponsors. “Social media never really sleeps, right?” He smiled a little.

A few journalists chuckled. One asked, “What do you do then?”

Charles tilted his head, thoughtful. “It depends. A lot of times I just join her, other times if I hadn’t noticed till late I leave her to sleep and other times…” He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “When I’m stubborn, I carry her back to bed. I don’t really like to be sleeping without her.”

Someone—you suspected it was one of the Ferrari PR team—had clipped part of his media day interview and posted it online.

“When I’m stubborn, I carry her back to bed. I don’t really like to be sleeping without her.”

The clip went viral almost immediately. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, everywhere.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Charles didn’t say much about their relationship publicly. He wanted to keep you safe and protected from those who weren’t supportive. But when he did, it always sounded exactly like him—honest, simple, no extra words but always full of love and awe.

You showed him while the two of you were having breakfast, you scrolling through your phone and trying not to laugh.

“What?” Charles asked, trying to get a better look of what was making you giggle so early in the morning.

“Look, you’ve gone viral Romeo” you said, holding up your phone.

There were memes already:

• Pierre Gasly on Instagram Stories: “Bro romantic for no reason 💀”

• Lando Norris tweeting: “Charles Leclerc carrying his girlfriend like she’s a Ferrari front wing 😭priorities”

• Lewis Hamilton chiming in on Instagram: “Real love is carrying her and not waking her up. Respect.”

• Carlos Sainz texting the group chat directly: “So you’re the paddock’s softest now? Should I buy you a teddy bear?” followed by three crying-laughing emojis.

Charles rolled his eyes and tugged you gently from your hand, setting it aside before pulling you onto his lap and closer against his chest.

Charles pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Let them all talk,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t have us any other way, mon chéri”

(Translation - my darling)

[anemos-orca]

Hello all!! I am so sorry for disappearing for so long qwq I went through some pretty big life changes and completely forgot about writing on here. Ive been so so busy, but am okay now :D I found this draft and decided to add a little before posting because i wont be finishing it (so sorry!!). Again, i apologize for disappearing haha. I hope you have all been well and will continue to be well. Goodbye for now!

NSFW under "see more", MDNI!

Every step through the hall leading to the Balladeers office feels like torture. Time seems to move so slow, yet far too fast at the same time. Your boots feel heavier than normal and the once fridgid air begins to feel strikingly hot, growing hotter and hotter each time you hear your own footsteps echo through the hall. Your mind races with frantic, paniced thoughts.

Im going to die. Im going to die today, the moment i step into his office. Im so stupid, so, so stupid- why did i draw that stuff? Why couldnt i just leave the damn book in my room? Hes going to kill me in such a painful way, Archons... Electrocution? Throwing me into the icy river? Filleting and feeding me to the dogs? ... I deserve it, i drew such-

Your feet stop, snapping you back into reality. Youre at his door. The door. The one leading to your demise, surely. Your fluffy little ears fully flatten back against your head and you reach out to the icy silver knob, but your hand freezes, hovering just above it.

What if i just dont go? What if i run away? What if-

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, growling to yourself about how rediculous you feel, about how cowardly and pathetic itd be to flee from the Fatui forsuch an embarrassing reason- getting caught drawing porn of your boss. Taking a deep breath and forcefully pinning you ears forward to at least try and appear unafraid, you open the door. Staring down at the cold floor, you step in and shut your only eacape behind you. Your heart is racing, and that feels like an understatement. Youre sure he can hear it beating from across the room. Looking up yet still avoiding eye contact, you put on your serious face and straighten out your tail before taking a seat in the cushioned chair across his desk. It feels so quiet in here (well, besides the pounding of hot blood rushing through your skull), and you know he must find your demeanor amusing. Gathering the courage to make eye contact, you look up and lock eyes. Hes grinning like a devil, and you swear you can see horns in his shadow. "My lord, I-" You begin, cut off by the raising of his hand. Your feeble attempts to keep your adorable little ears straightened up fail you, and they droop down to the sides like a sad kitten.

"Why so nervous? Is it because you left your drawings behind?" He teases, causing your cheeks to flare a bright, humiliated pink.

You know better than to speak over him, even if your instincts are begging you to explain. He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls your your notebook, flipping through the pages. Your face drops and your eyes land on the floor as you begin to fiddle with your tail, desperately trying to flatten your standing-on-end fur.

"Awh, are you embarrassed? I expected your face to turn red, but not that red," He coos, turning your sketchbook around to show you your own work. Its one of the more explicit drawings youve done, one of him tugging the waistband of his pants down just enough to let his harened cock free. "Im flattered, really, but more curious than anything. Say, how many times have you desperately fingered yourself while pretending im the one finger-fucking you?"

His bluntness causes the fur of your ears and tail to poof up eyen more, and you cant help but look up, "Youre not... mad?" You sheepishly ask, your voice barely above a light whisper. He must be toying with you, you decide.

"Mad? No. Amused? Yes. But thats not what I asked. And since you didnt answer the question as youre supposed to, i want you to demonstrate instead." He fake-sighs, sitting back against his chair and crossing his arms.

His expectant, sadistic expression makes a shiver go up your spine. Your mind races, unsure of what he wants. "Demonstrate, my Lord...?" Surely, he cant be demanding you to actually masturbate in front of him, right? Though... even a split second mental image of it makes your walls ache.

He raises a brow and scoffs, pretending to be surprised at your uncertainty. "You want to get off to me that badly, so, do it. Take off your clothes and masturbate."

To say youre stunned is an insult. You cant speak or think, your heart is beating far too fast, and your mouth feels as try as Sumeru's desert. He waves his hand at you in a 'well? go on' motion and you shakily stand up. You dont know if you should feel blessed or be mentally preparing to die, but that doesnt matter at this point. You decide to go with the first option. Your fingers find their way under the waistband of the fabrics on your lower half, both pants and panties, and you slide them down to your ankles. A humiliating amount of arousal has already soaked your panties and a string of wetness webs between them and your thighs, garnering a chuckle from Scaramouche. Sitting back down, you prop one leg up on the arm of your chair and begin tracing circles around your clit, causing your tail to flick. You can feel his eyes burning into your exposed body, and the exhibitionism only makes you wetter. Your digits dive into your pussy and press against the perfect spot over and over again, drawing a soft whimper from your lips and making your ears droop even more in relaxation.

[jaeger-tech]

Pacific Rim Dashboard Simulator

🙇‍♀️ alphamycherno Follow

i don't know about this "let's build a wall" thing like. where's the sexiness? the vibes? what's the point of war if we don't even have hot people in big fuckass robots anymore

🎴 coyote-t Follow

there are so many legitimate, important reasons to protest the wall of life, but whatever it takes i guess. sure. it's not fuckable enough

5,345 notes

🐉 exxxtraterrestrial Follow

happy kaiju blue monday!!

#happy kaiju blue monday

137,294 notes

🦅 ppdc-confessions

Anonymous asked:

I'm a janitor at the HK shatterdome and certain two german scientists should either fuck or finally kill each other at this point, I don't care. They're always in the lab no matter the time of day so I can't avoid them and so they try to get me (the janitor) to choose sides in their domestics!! I refuse to step in that lab again and involve myself in whatever the fuck they've got going on. They'll just have to clean that shit themselves

#this is the third confession about these scientists this week are you guys okay

306 notes

🍱 scissure

are we forgetting that PPDC is literally military like you people are not immune to propaganda

☠ buena-guy Follow

You are right. The kaiju are here to bring us to justice, there's no sense in fighting them. If you also feel like this, you can find out more on my blog ❤

🍱 scissure

SILENCE, CULTIST

870 notes

💃 shatterdo-me Follow

what if we kissed in the drift 🥺👉👈 and we were both girls 😳

#ok but for real what do you mean i have to go get into the MILITARY to become a JAEGER PILOT if i want to find my SOULMATE this is so fucked up #release the tech #for the gays

38,563 notes

[mattodore]

12 p.m.

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[kithj]

some stories are written precisely to elicit strong emotions from the reader INCLUDING negative ones. some stories and characters are meant to be upsetting, they are meant to challenge you and make you uncomfortable!! when a story makes you feel Big Feelings sometimes you are meant to sit in those feelings and ask yourself why! fiction is a great space to explore these emotions in a safe environment. you, as the reader, are meant to think critically about the art you are enjoying and that includes asking yourself questions like why has the author presented their art in this way and what are they trying to tell me. and then you get to have fun picking it apart and figuring it out and deciding what, exactly, the art means to you.

[lotus-pear]

do you ever think about how in the day i picked up dazai side b dazai had to lie emotionless and soulless—like a corpse, almost—beside the man that gently brought him in, nursed his injuries, held him while he was in pain? he had to keep those suffocating bandages around his entire face, lest this man gain some sort of recognition for the little boy he saved. he had to lay there curled in the fetal position, bleeding and in pain, perhaps thinking about how, in another life, this man cooked for him, tried to build up his strength. read to him to pass the time while he curled up against him like a child listening to a bedtime story. played cards with him. saw through the heartless mafioso. the ruthless killer. and instead saw a boy.

imagine knowing this man, the man who saved you in more ways than one, was going to die one day all because he knew you. because he reached his hand into the darkness and plaintively, like a small child wanting a parent's touch, you grasped back desperately. imagine thinking all of that while that man is just a stone's throw away, making coffee in the next room just like he used to for you in another life. the scent, although you've never been here before, is reminiscent of home. and the tune he's humming? it's the silent melody that plays through your mind seven years later, for the last time as you fall backward off the building with your arms out like an embrace. but, hey. that man is alive. he's happy, although he never knew you. you can die with no regrets.

[skullsandcorals]

Wanted to redraw this with my version of the book characters💃✨

(click for better quality if you're on the mobile app. do not repost.)

[zukkaoru]

everyone talking about this with dazai…. guys i think i know who chuuya is REALLY talking about here

[restricted-on-13th]

Sooooo (let's overshare) I have a jinx that whenever I get injured, I get lucky in the next thing that happens to me. So what do ya know, I tripped and fell and thought I just tripped (had to go back to class which is at the 5th floor by STAIRS) but now I think it's a sprain.

And look what I found in a local school supplies store when I was just browsing for a notebook:

Fuck...YEAHHHHHHHHH (and it's cheap :D)

For the people wondering, it's Re-MeNT DETECTIVE CONAN Cafe Time.

So of course, me who sees Detective Conan, goes to buy and splurge on the blind boxes on auto-pilot as I haven't found the time to go to Miniso. I didn't really have much of an expectation cause the tape looked skeptical (lmao but yeah it didn't look professional). And look what I got in my first box:

KAITO KIDDDDDDDDDDD HMMMM MEHH BOIII, I fan girled in front of that shop so hard.

I later went back in hopes for a Shinichi and only got 3 more boxes (There were only 4 boxes, I bought the 3 left and was thankful no one bought anything after i left the first time.)

The cashier laughed at me when I went back 3 times cause I bought only one box every time, in hopes for a Shinichi only to be disappointed when it wasn't him then immediately goes back inside to buy another box. YEAH I'M LAME LIKE THAT, SUE ME, IM A COLLEGE STUDENT ON AN ALLOWANCE.

Sadly, I didn't get Shinichi (though I did get Conan). Even the guy at baggage counter pitied me when I opened the last box in front of him as I claimed the other boxes. (I totally didn't feel like crying :) )

Sooooobbbbbbbbb Shinichi, my sassy Shinichi who's holding a fork that's stabing a strawberry as he looks at me judgementally. I even promised to study hard when I get him, noooooooooo. I lived for that sassy bootyyyyyyyyyyy sooobbbb

Here is my haul, enjoy it. Cause I won't be taking them out of the plastic, maybe take them out of the box sometimes to stare at them for hours but I just can't bear the thought of getting them dirty (and I'm not sure I can maintain them in my small ass dorm room that has a problem with humidity)

I'm totally not salty that I didn't get Shinichi, mmmmmm totally not....

Soobbbbb SHINICHI MY BABYYYYYY

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[all-pacas]

chase tends to be given credit for how well he knows cameron and how patient he is with her, right? and he is, and part of it is because their relationship tends to be shown through cameron's pov and so we don't get much focus on chase in the same way -- all their 'moments' tend to be framed as character growth for cameron with chase as static -- and so the ship tends to also present cameron as flawed but trying and chase as simply patient and understanding with her: he knows her issues, he can wait her out, he rarely makes demands, he always takes her back. the negative side of this is you get people on reddit bashing cameron for being an unfeeling bitch. but you know what.

i wanna talk about how cameron actually does a good fucking job of supporting him.

chase is terrible at opening up to people. he's private to a fault, he gets snippy and lashes out when he feels insecure — not just with cameron or romantically, but in general: i guess i'm a bad doctor, he snaps at stacy in the mistake; he avoids house in numerous episodes, spends most of cursed mostly trying to prove his father wrong: when he feels cornered and insecure he shuts down. clams up. doesn't answer questions, snaps at sincere attempts at understanding.

he pushes people away. in cursed, cameron tries to get him to open up, and he dismisses and freezes her out: in chase and ignorance is bliss he avoids and shuts down every sincere attempt from his coworkers at help. the first time we see him in ignorance is bliss is lying in the lounge looking terrible and compulsively rubbing his empty ring finger: i'm fine, he insists to everyone (lying) and then punches house in the face. when he's in a bad mood, chase is a pain in the ass, let's be real.

but you know what? in early s6? cameron actually does a good fucking job with him. she lets him know immediately after dibala that she's worried about him, that she's on his side. she tells him we don't have to talk about it. she doesn't push (she learned from cursed). she offers support and follows his cues. this didn't work out in this case — because chase wasn't just upset, he was covering up a murder — but generally?

in both sides now, she decides to destroy her husband's sperm. it's not what she wanted, and i don't think just indulging chase is the right call exactly, but… as soon as she said she was willing to do this for him, chase stopped wanting the sperm destroyed; it was never really about the sperm and more that, you know. he was feeling insecure. he was worried he was her second or third choice. same in saviors, even same in the itch: cameron is repeatedly able to cut through his hurt with basic demonstrations of care. he gets over himself immediately. just as he pushes her to push herself, she pushes him to care; he's always trying to put on this front of being an island, aloof and cool and apathetic. he stands for nothing. he is bad at this. but with cameron: he tells her he likes her. he asks her for more.

he gets petty and insecure, and she neither indulges it or gets angry for it. she goes out of her way (hilariously) in ugly to involve him in her "i'm not in love with house" coverup, she is annoyed but does not engage with his jealousy in no more mr nice guy; even in saviors, she's quick and immediate in trying to reassure him, tell him it isn't about house, that it's fine. she does a bad job here, but she tries. she is communicative. she is the first one to, on screen, say i love you. even when she has doubts over the sperm, she frames it as: i want to spend my life with you. she is ressuring! she is proactive! in the itch, the moment chase says he feels shut out, she goes home and cleans out her apartment -- in the middle of a case! (she's wearing the same clothes.) cameron really works hard not just to sacrifice and fight for the relationship, but make chase happy, keep ahead of his insecurities without indulging his stupider ones.

were they a perfect couple? no. but it isn't just "chase was so besotted with poor indifferent cameron." she was invested, too.

[gramoturtle]

A while ago I compiled with a friend some comparisons between how Minamimoto uses some "math speak" (goroawase) between the TWEWY OG game and animation in Japanese and English. It got put on hold due to burnout and trying to figure out how to format it for Tumblr if I wanted to dig into the numbers-to-words part for the goroawase. I'd want to use tables which uh... not a Tumblr thing. But screenshots could work, especially with the higher photo limit.

Recently I came across old notes for it but cannot find the draft that I'm sure I started somewhere. Oh well. Anyways, would there be any interest if I got around to putting it in a somewhat ok readible format?

[pl4yingcards]

something about c!Quackity being most vulnerable when he's in the prison torturing Dream

i mean, look at him. a man who performs in all aspects of his life, from political position to political position. you walk onstage and you grin and you bear it, and you leave your drinking problems and cigarette habits behind closed doors where they won't reflect on your country

there's no public eye to watch him in the prison, though. arguably it's one of the only places that has no eye to watch him because he's made so sure to keep that door closed

at the same time, i think quackity is a man who feels trapped more often than he'll let on. sure, in las nevadas, he's created the prison, but is a caged animal any less caged if its prison is made of its own claws? he got to choose his image this time but it doesn't make him any less trapped in the picture-perfect lens he's framed himself in

when that entrapment becomes more literal, when he is practically literally trapped in this cell with no eyes to watch him but the eyes he is forcing to pay attention, it's like externalizing the feeling of being trapped. he is more at home in a cage than he is in a cushy office

and then, of course, there's the torture element. a place to really let go of the image he's crafted for himself. he doesn't have to be the president, the vice, the collected showrunner he presents himself as. with nobody watching, he can be raw and vulnerable. not sad-vulnerable, but angry

anger doesn't fit his image, the showrunner, the cool and calm version of himself that deals cutting remarks and losing hands to others

[avayarising]

No but let’s talk about the whole Apokalips thing in Our Worlds At War. Young Justice 1:35–37, Superboy 1:91, Impulse 1:89.

Kon really, really screwed up. His impulsive and insubordinate actions, expressly against Robin’s orders and in full opposition to the rescue mission they were engaged on, led directly to:

the permanent death of one team member (Slobo is not Lil Lobo even if he does have his memories, and neither are any of the other regenerated Lobos, most of whom also die; original Lobo remains dead)

the partial death of another (Bart is in a coma for over a week after experiencing the death of his speedforce duplicate)

the start of Greta’s corruption arc via Darkseid

and the torture and thorough traumatisation of the rest of team (they are held in VR worlds where they are forced to live through the deaths of their loved ones and their own deaths, repeatedly).

Tim leaves Young Justice over this. Bart stops being a hero altogether for a while.

And we never see Kon apologise.

Okay so yes he acknowledges to himself he is entirely at fault for this. He spends a whole issue agonising over what he’s done and yes, he resolves to apologise to Robin.

But he never does. He gets distracted by some fallout from the war and by Joker’s Last Laugh. Tim gets involved again in World Without Young Justice, when reality has been altered and none of them are who they should be.

And then after that, Tim, who is relieved that his identity has been revealed (something he wanted to do long ago) in a way that he couldn’t control or be blamed for, asks to rejoin the team.

And.

Kon and Cassie do this:

(I’m not blaming Snapper, Ray, or Slobo, none of whom were there when this went down even if Slobo does have the memories of it. They are just following Kon and Cassie’s cues.)

And Tim reacts like this:

Which is not the reaction of someone who has already received a heartfelt apology.

And yes, then they hug and welcome Tim back into the team. But I think Tim ends up fully internalising that his leadership (and his refusal to share his identity, like they have any right to it) is to blame for the whole debacle. And Kon lets him go on thinking that.

[fennthetalkingdog]

Dang, being nonhuman really is just like being trans, where I look back at my life and go, "Ohhhhhhhh, so THAT'S where it came from." It's easy for me to fall into the habit of thinking, "Well I just found this new label but I don't want it to infiltrate my whole life." But... it already has. All those moments pretending to be a cat on the playground, making fake "dog packs" with my friends, wrestling with my dog and laying next to her as if I was just another pup, attaching to my dog and cat stuffed animals, making dog-like noises to supplement my words, pretending I had (and still have) a tail to wag when I wanted, shaking out my "fur" and huffing just because I "liked mimicking my dog"—those were all my nonhumanity shining through. Me identifying with the nonhuman/therian label isn't an outliner, it's just the trend.