#but the search function is messing up so bad

[halfelven]

hii did you ever write a little fic about frodo and galadriel (and elrond i think) sailing to valinor, ive been thinking about it nonstop and the style was similar to yours? also i want you to know that everything you write goes straight to my heart have a lovely day :)

hi and thank you! 💗 i have written something about frodo sailing to valinor that has galadriel and elrond both in it. i hope this is what you were looking for! (and thank you so much for such a beautiful compliment and i hope you also have a very lovely day 💗💗💗)

[lilreidgirl]

Perfect

Summary: You`re insecure and your boyfriend, Spencer, thinks the absolute world of you, he trys everything to make you see what he sees.

Warnings: fem!reader, insecure reader, bad body image, comparing to fictional charecters, kissing, hurt/comfort?, not proof read, if i forgot anything; let me know, English is not my first language

WC: ~1k

A/N: I won`t be posting for about the next two weeks cause i have three exams, once exam season finally ends, Ill be able to post my many ideas that just seem to keep on coming. Until then, here`s a short Spence hurt/comfort fic MWAH

Perfect.

A word that feels as foreign to me as an alien language. It’s something I’m definitely not. No one is perfect, of course. But I feel like I’m standing several miles farther from it than most.

Spencer calls me a lot of things: beautiful, pretty, cute, smart, hot, exquisite, funny, tantalizing, sexy, insatiable. The list is endless. If it’s complimentary, he’s said it at some point.

Except perfect.

Spencer is a man of science and logic, and logic dictates that perfection doesn’t exist. It’s an unattainable ideal, a concept too flawless to have a place in a messy world like ours. And yet, standing next to him—this near-perfect person—I feel the ache of falling so much shorter than the mark.

There are people, though, who seem to come dangerously close.

One of the many things I love about Spencer is his love for books. He reads endlessly, often with the same devotion he gives to solving puzzles or understanding the human mind. He’ll bury himself in stories until his eyes droop, refusing to let fatigue stop him from finishing just one more chapter. And I know the women in those books, how they’re described: Silky hair, impossibly soft skin, hypnotic eyes, lips meant to be kissed, figures sculpted to perfection, and smiles bright enough to light up the darkest corners.

That’s what perfection looks like, isn’t it?

It’s certainly not me.

I see myself every day in the mirror. No silky hair here—just strands that seem to have their own rebellious personality, refusing to fall in place no matter what I do. My skin? Far from flawless. My eyes? Ordinary, nothing mesmerizing about them. My lips are… lips. Not the kind poets write about. My body? Just a body. Functional. Unremarkable. My smile doesn’t light up rooms; at most, it’s enough to convey, Hi, I’m friendly, please don’t ask me for directions.

Yet somehow, here I am, dating Spencer Reid—a man who feels carved by the hands of something divine. It’s almost painful, how unfairly beautiful he is. I’ve searched for his flaws, scoured every inch of his personality, his quirks, his habits. Nothing. If they’re there, they’re too small for me to see. He’s just… him. Perfect in all the ways that I’m not.

Two soft knocks on the door break me out of my spiraling thoughts. They’re gentle yet deliberate, spaced so perfectly it feels like they were timed with precision. Of course, they were. This is Spencer we’re talking about. Even his knocks are perfect.

I drag myself toward the door, feeling the weight of my imperfections in every step. My fingers fidget with the hem of my sweater as I go. It’s oversized and rumpled, the fabric hanging well past my wrists. My sweatpants cling stubbornly to my thighs but sag around my ankles. I’m a mess, right down to the fluffy socks that glide across the floor I haven’t bothered to clean in three weeks.

When I open the door, the sight of him steals my breath as it always does. Spencer.

His hair is perfectly disheveled, a chaotic tumble of curls that somehow looks intentional. His features are sharp, striking, and utterly unfair. His eyes hold the kind of depth that makes you feel like he sees every part of you, even the parts you���d rather keep hidden.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft and warm, and that smile—the one that makes me feel like I’m standing in the sun—graces his lips.

“Hey,” I manage, though my voice feels embarrassingly small in comparison.

“I missed you so much,” he says, stepping inside before I can respond. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a hug that feels like home. He lifts me slightly, spinning us in a slow circle, and I can’t help but laugh softly at the gesture.

“Me too,” I whisper, the words barely audible as my lips brush against his neck. When he sets me down, I press a kiss to his lips. It’s brief but firm, enough to feel the spark between us ignite.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes roaming my face. His pupils are wide, the dim light of my apartment making them expand until they almost swallow the brown of his irises. He looks at me like I’m something precious, something worth studying and memorizing.

“God,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with something I can’t quite name. “You’re perfect.”

The air leaves my lungs. For a moment, it feels like the world has tilted on its axis. I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come. My thoughts are spinning, but all I can focus on is him, standing here, calling me perfect.

Could perfection exist after all? Maybe it does. Maybe it’s right here in front of me, holding me, looking at me like I’m something extraordinary.

Or maybe perfection isn’t about appearances. Maybe it’s about this feeling—this warmth that spreads through me whenever Spencer is near. Maybe it’s about the way he sees me, flaws and all, and still calls me something I never thought I could be.

Perfect. That’s him.

Perfect. The word he used to describe me.

Perfect. The way I feel, despite my imperfections, whenever I’m with him.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill, a soft laugh escaping my lips as I finally find my voice. “Mm… so are you,” I whisper, leaning into him as his arms tighten around me.

And in that moment, I believe it. I believe that maybe, just maybe, perfection isn’t about being flawless. Maybe it’s about being loved by someone who makes you feel like you are.

@emma-e-a

[melosliving]

kelvin harrison jr x pregnant!reader

warning : overly cuuute husband kelvin (I need him)

husband!kelvin who knew he wanted you to be the mother of his kids after y’all kissed for the first time.

husband!kelvin who couldn’t help but smile every time he would see you running towards every kid you would see at a family function.

husband!kelvin who chokes with either his drink or his spit when asked about a baby with you.

"Damn you be in my business ?"

"Well.."

"Don’t do that." he would laugh.

husband!kelvin who overtime develops the cute habit of caressing your belly when cuddling with you before sleeping.

husband!kelvin who annoyingly starts to sing random lullabies, which leads to you being pissed off because the songs are now stuck in your head.

husband!kelvin who quietly snaps pictures of you each time you find yourself with a baby in your arms, gushing about how beautiful you look.

bestie!aaron who tells kelvin he has a baby fever, which makes him wonder if you actually wanted to have kids with him.

"bro, look how cute she looks !" he said, showing aaron a picture of you holding your cousin’s son.

"you would make cute babies, that’s for sure."

"huh ?" he asked, dumbfounded. "you think she wants to have kids with me ?" he seriously asked aaron.

"brother, I don’t think she would’ve accepted to get married to you if she didn’t want your babies." aaron simply answers.

"You right ! hum.. baby ?" kelvin said, now searching for you.

husband!kelvin who when he finally finds you in the kitchen, feeding one of your brother’s kid, definitely knows he wants to have kids with you. Now.

"you would make the best mother, you know that baby ?" he says, coming behind you while circling his arms around you.

pregnant!reader who is a mess after actually finding out she was indeed pregnant and immediately calls Kelvin’s mom.

husband!kelvin who laughed in your sister’s face when she congratulated him, not knowing he didn’t know you were pregnant.

husband!kelvin who cries in your arms when you told him you were pregnant. He never let you go after that.

husband!kelvin who decided to buy a camera and record every little thing you would do. From the first sonogram, to the first clothes you bought for the baby, etc.. at every end of the day he would film himself saying good night to the baby.

"okay, so today we’re finding out if you’re a boy or a girl ! What are you thinking mama ?" He says, turning the camera so you would be seen on the screen.

Sitting pretty in the passenger seat, you put your sunglasses on, smiling. "I think it is a girl," you say, caressing your 4 month belly. "I do too actually !" Kelvin nodded.

husband!kelvin who can help but feel bad for you every time you would throw up and crave weird things such as ice with pickles (wtfff) but would nonetheless give you anything you desire.

husband!kelvin who can’t help but worship the ground you walk on everyday. His eyes would glisten each time he would see you wear whatever that made your pretty bump visible.

"smile for the camera mama !" he would say.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would jump out of the bed when you told him that your water broke, freaking out already.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who holds your hand through it all, looking at you with concern as he watched your face contorting in pain. he would do anything to ease your pain : ice chips ? He got you. Hand ? Take it. Need him close ? he would do anything to be in your skin.

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who is so proud of you for going through all of this and handling it like the champ you are !

"You’re doing so good baby, I’m so proud of you." He would whispered in your ear, still holding your hand. He would then kiss your forehead as you pushed. "c’mon you got it, the baby is almost here mama."

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would be nosy as hell, trying to see the baby coming out of you in live, almost pushing the doctor and nurses just so he could see.

girl dad!kelvin who waited a whole 9 months to be able to sing to you "your pum pum bring life ! your tight pum pum bring life !" While holding y’all daughter.

"You’ve got so much hair my love ! Yeah, you’re so pretty.."

@ melosliving 2025

[shaykai]

Okay okay okay consider Durgetash tether AU

Gortash & Durge are messing around with an artifact (from Mephistopheles’ vault?) and it ends up tethering them together (like Legend of Spyro- they can only move so far away from each other and the tether isn’t visible unless it’s actively being strained or interacted with)

They can’t figure out how to deactivate it, antics ensue (they can’t hurt each other while it’s active?)

Gortash has to put up with Durge being present in all of his meetings and just praying to god they behave themselves and don’t try to maim anybody/that nobody takes too much interest in their presence

There’s also the Urge- Gortash knows about it but now he actively has to help in dealing with it- whether that be going on murder sprees far too often for his liking or finding out the unfortunate consequences of neglecting it

Them getting weirdly close and open because they kind of have to be to function

Neither of them have easy access into their respective cult spaces/temples anymore- bringing a Banite into Bhaal’s temple is basically a heresy.

That being said, Durge can only stay away for so long before it’s problematic- it looks bad when they’ve been missing for a week and the last time they were seen was with Gortash.

Jump cut to Durge forcing Gortash to wear normal cultist attire and telling him to keep his mouth shut lest somebody recognize his voice.

Something about Orin cornering Durge and asking where they’ve been before realizing there’s a ‘cultist’ just. Standing there. Djdjdjjdjdjd Naturally she threatens to kill him if he doesn’t leave and Durge has to hurry up and make excuses and then probably run away with Gortash before Orin can clock that it’s him

Sceleritas is one of the only people who knows the situation and is tirelessly searching for a solution so that his “beloved Durge can be free of their greasy leach”

Something something people clocking that it’s weird that they’re always so close to each other (gonna say they can’t be more than 10 feet apart)- more so at places like Moonrise where nobody knows who Durge really is and want to know who it is that’s following Gortash around

Gortash having to deal with the gnolls because Durge refuses to leave them alone

Also Durge getting somewhat familiarized with mechanics and learning how they work

Ketheric genuinely not knowing that they’re tethered together for entirely too long

Balthazar being a problem if he ever finds out because he wants to do science

Also them having to learn how to fight while being stuck together

Something about their walk speeds being different- Gortash has a cane for a reason and it takes Durge a while to stop speed walking everywhere. (Gortash can match their pace, but after a while it does take a toll)

Messy sleeping arrangements

Them having to deal with each other’s triggers/really bad days TM

[ghosty-zero]

Sonadow one shot number #3: The Art of Self Anointing

Shadow stepped into Sonic's house for the first time and immediately wanted to turn around and leave. He was a perfectionist when it came to cleaning, but the sight before him was a chaotic mess. "How do you even find anything in here?" he grumbled under his breath, glancing around at the piles of tech manuals and video game cartridges scattered across the floor, sidestepping a pile of dirty laundry.

Sonic seemed unfazed by the disarray, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he dashed to the kitchen. "Want a chili dog?" he called over his shoulder.

"You invite me over to this...this...," Shadow searched for the right word, his gloved hands balling into fists at his sides. "Pigsty? Just to eat a disgusting combination of meat and bread?"

Sonic gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "My house isn't that bad!" He glanced around, his eyes darting over the mess as if seeing it for the first time. "Besides, a little bit of chaos keeps things interesting, right?"

"I can't believe...how do you even function?" Shadow murmured, shaking his head as he followed Sonic into the kitchen. The counters were littered with half-eaten snacks and half-finished projects, a few pizza boxes and a couple of forgotten cans of soda adding to the chaos.

"I must be a miracle."

"Must be." Shadow grumbled.

He knew he should have declined when Sonic invited him over, but he really had nothing better to do with his time. If Rouge hadn't been busy with another heist and Omega wasn't stuck in maintenance mode, maybe he wouldn't have found himself in this predicament. Sonic had seemed pressed for company anyway, what with Blaze and Amy on a shopping trip, Tails tinkering in his lonesome, and Knuckles... well, doing Knuckles things. So, the two hedgehogs were the only company available.

But looking around at the mess, Shadow felt a strong sense of discomfort, like a knot tightening in his stomach. The clutter was greatly different from his own meticulously organized space, where everything had its place and his mind could work without distraction. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the smell of stale food and the occasional whiff of something that might have once been a forgotten science experiment.

Sonic, after making his beloved chili dog into a masterpiece of culinary disaster, turned to face Shadow with a proud smile. "Ta-da!" He exclaimed, holding up the greasy plate.

Shadow stared at it. "You actually eat this?"

"Every day, baby! Try a bite," Sonic said, holding out the chili dog. "You know you want to."

"I'd rather not clog my arteries with that," Shadow said flatly, eyeing the chili dog.

"Oh, and plain black coffee beans are so much healthier than this," Sonic quipped.

"In a way, it is," Shadow said, eyeing the chili dog with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. He had seen Sonic's diet before and was surprised the blue hedgehog had the energy to outrun a bullet train. "But I need to keep my reflexes sharp. Can't be slowed down by...whatever that is."

"A hot dog smothered in chili isn't going to slow me down!" Sonic exclaimed, taking a massive bite, his cheeks bulging with the food. He chewed with a grin, watching Shadow with a twinkle in his eye, daring him to try it.

Shadow wrinkled his nose in disgust before turning with a huff, snatching dirty plates and garbage off the counter. "If I am to be in this house, it needs to be clean. At least for my own sanity."

"It's not that bad. Besides, it's lived-in," Sonic said with his mouth full, waving the half-eaten chili dog. He took another bite, watching as Shadow began to methodically clear the kitchen. The clank of pans and the scraping of plates filled the air as the brooding hedgehog worked, his movements precise and efficient. He didn't ask Sonic where things went, he didn't ask him for help, nor did he complain—he just did it. Without even asking Sonic to move, Shadow had the kitchen clean in a matter of minutes.

"Dang...oh, that's where that went," Sonic mumbled, peering under a pile of newspapers to find his favorite mug.

Shadow moved onto the living room, his eyes scanning the chaos before him. The couch was buried under a mountain of cushions and blankets, a show of Sonic's love for naps and marathon video game sessions. The coffee table was a minefield of empty soda cans and game controllers, and the TV screen was smudged with fingerprints. "You're going to regret inviting me over," he muttered, grabbing a trash bag and starting to pick up.

Sonic just watched, almost too afraid to try and help, lest he mess up Shadow's rhythm. He'd seen the dark hedgehog's cleaning spree before, and it was nothing short of a whirlwind. "You know, you can sit and relax," Sonic offered, his mouth still full of chili dog. "This is a place for kicking back, not for...this." He gestured vaguely at the cleaning frenzy.

"I can tell. You don't own cleaning supplies," Shadow said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He looked around the kitchen for a broom or mop, his gaze landing on a dusty corner where a forgotten duster lay. "But I guess we can make do," he murmured, picking it up and giving it a disgusted look.

With a sigh, Sonic swallowed the last of his chili dog and took his plate to the sink. "You know, it's not that bad," he said again, trying to sound nonchalant as he rinsed it off. "It's just...comfortable."

"Stop defending this mess," Shadow said, his voice low but firm as he tackled the living room. He tossed a handful of crumpled-up papers into the trash bag. "A clean environment is conducive to clear thinking. And I can't think clearly when everything's a mess."

"Yeesh, sorry." Sonic said with a dramatic eye-roll, setting the plate aside to help with the cleaning. He picked up a random game controller, inspecting it for dust before setting it on the newly cleared coffee table with a clatter.

Shadow shot him a glare. "That goes there," he pointed to a shelf now apparently designated for electronics. Sonic shrugged and tossed it in the right direction, watching as it barely missed knocking over a pile of VHS tapes.

"Best you step aside, speed demon," Shadow said, his eyes on the dust bunny that had the audacity to scurry across the floor. He took a step towards it, his movements deliberate. The dust bunny froze, seemingly aware of the predator in its midst, before darting under the couch. Sonic chuckled, watching Shadow's intense focus.

"Alright, I'll...leave ya to it. I guess I should go shopping for some cleaning stuff, huh?" Sonic chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

Shadow ignored him, apparently now trying to snatch the dust bunny from under the couch with a surprising amount of determination. Sonic took it as a sign that he wasn't needed anymore, so he slipped out of the house to grab some supplies.

Finally alone, Shadow let out a deep sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he surveyed the remaining mess. He began to pick up the cushions from the floor, his eyes scanning for any signs of life, like a ninja on a reconnaissance mission. The couch looked surprisingly clean under the layer of clutter, and he couldn't help but wonder if Sonic ever actually sat on it. He tossed the last cushion onto the now-bare sofa and took a moment to appreciate the order he had created amidst the chaos.

He sat down on the couch with a sigh, deciding that the dust bunny could wait. The fabric was surprisingly plush, and he found himself sinking into it, his muscles loosening. It was fairly cleaner now, at least more so than before he started. He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the bookshelf, where books were stacked haphazardly, some with their spines cracked and pages sticking out.

For some reason, it made him itchy seeing them so disorganized. He couldn't help himself; he had to fix it. Shadow stood up from the couch, dusting off his gloves, and approached the bookshelf with purpose. Each book was handled with care, straightening out the pages, aligning the spines, and placing them back in their rightful spot. He paused at a title that caught his eye—a book on ancient civilizations. He pulled it out, flipping through the pages. It was surprising to find something so...intellectual in this mess.

He placed all the books in a line according to their size, the largest to the smallest. Maybe it was his compulsive need for order, but seeing them neat and tidy gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. He no longer felt that itchy feeling of chaos all around him, which was a solid start.

With Sonic no longer present, Shadow decided to roam around the rest of the house. The hallway was lined with framed photos of Sonic and his friends, each capturing a moment of victory or shared laughter. Shadow didn't see himself in any of them, which was perfectly fine by him. He didn't do well with sentimentality. Or smiling in photos.

When he entered Sonic's bedroom, he was actually surprised to see that it was somewhat organized. The bed was made, with a few pillows neatly arranged at the headboard, and the clothes were folded into a neat pile at the foot of the bed. The only anomaly was a single, crumpled sock dangling from the bedpost. Shadow picked it up with the tip of his finger and raised an eyebrow. He tossed it into the laundry basket in the corner of the room.

"What a pig." Shadow mumbled, poking the tip of his shoe at a pile of either clothes or blankets in the corner of Sonic's bedroom.

There wasn't much for him to actively clean in Sonic's room, so he sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the bounce of the springs beneath him. It was surprisingly comfortable. He glanced over to the nightstand, where a photo of a young Sonic with a stern-looking owl caught his attention. He picked it up, staring at it for a second before setting it back down. He wasn't overly interested in the blue hedgehog's past, but it was a rare glimpse into his personal life—something that was usually as fast-paced and fleeting as Sonic himself.

He poked at the clothes folded at the foot of the bed, looking around for something to do. He could start cleaning again, but there was a smell that caught his attention, coming from the folded clothes. It wasn't a bad smell in any way; it was faintly sweet, and smelled strongly of Sonic.

Sonic's scent was faint but unmistakable. A combination of the outdoors, a hint of sweat from their many battles, and a faint trace of the soap he used in the shower. Shadow's curiosity was piqued, and he found himself holding a sweater to his nose, inhaling deeply. He frowned, unsure why he was so drawn to the scent. It was...comforting, in a weird way.

He began to purr, a gentle motor-like rumble in his chest. It was a hedgehog habit he hadn't realized he'd somehow mastered, a sign of his comfort. The sweater was soft between his gloved fingers, and he found himself stroking the fabric absently, the sound of his purr growing louder. It was a red sweater, faded and worn, but it was clear that Sonic had cherished it. It was brand new, aside from the scent that clung to it.

Without really realizing it, Shadow rubbed his quills against the sweater's fabric, enjoying the feeling of the soft material against his spikes. The smell was comforting, and he wanted, for some reason, to take the scent with him. He rubbed it against his cheek, feeling the warmth it held. It was a strange sensation for someone who had spent his entire life being cold and detached from others.

Quietly, with his arms full of cleaning equipment, Sonic watched from the doorway of his room. He smiled, slowly backing up so he wouldn't disturb Shadow. It was a rare sight to see his usually stoic and solitary friend looking so content—or at least, as content as Shadow ever did. He knew the black hedgehog wasn't one for messes, but to see him actively seeking out comfort in the scent of a worn-out sweater was something new.

"I should wear that sweater more often." Sonic muttered to himself as he tip-toed back down the hallway.

[karvroom]

BLACK MEMORIES

Bakugo x reader

⟢ In which you’re left to reflect on the negative memories of your past relationship with the blonde who stole your heart (and won’t give it back).

- based off the song ‘Black Memories’ by the Growlers

═════════════

You laid sprawled across your mattress in your dorm room. You melted into the multitude blankets covering your body, imagining the warmth of being cradled by your mother. The indescribable feeling of emptiness occupied your soul. You had tried everything in the past week to make the feeling go away; listening to music, hanging out with your friends, reading, even going as far as buying a coloring book. By no means, it was all hopeless. You were a mess.

Your room represented the state of mind you were currently in. Clothes littered throughout the carpeted flooring, homework papers left scattered across your desk, your dead laptop that remained open. Your curtains hadn’t been opened during the past three days. Your room was a cave. You chose to lock yourself away from the outside world and it was all over a failed relationship.

No matter what, you couldn’t get him out of your head. The hot-headed, arrogant, self-loathing excuse of a man.

You and Bakugo had been together for just about a year prior to your break up as of last week. You recounted the fond memories you had of the beginning of the relationship. The blonde had a soft spot for you to say the least. You were the only person he willingly talked to—even before you started dating. Bakugo told you it was because “you were the most tolerable”, but you begged to differ when you caught him staring at you in math class on numerous occasions.

Bakugo used to always find a way to make time for you in his overwhelming schedule. He may have been a busy guy, but nothing stopped him from seeing your pretty face in between his workouts and study time. You appreciated every second spent with him, loving him as much as you possibly could.

All that ran through your head was the blissful moments you had with Bakugo. You reminisced the good times. The high of sneaking around the dorm building together after hours creeping back into your depressive mind. The way Bakugo would always have his hands on you in some way. His arm slung over your shoulders as you laid your head against his shoulder. His thumb would glide over the skin of your arm, making you feel at ease. You loved how touchy he was. You missed it. Now all you could do was hold yourself and try to mimic the way he made you feel.

To everyone’s surprise, it was you who broke up with him. Your mutual classmates never would’ve guessed the hardships you faced throughout your time with Bakugo. You never complained, never visually showed any signs of not being okay, you were always upbeat and gleeful. That’s only because your friends were your distraction.

When you and Bakugo would have disputes or he was in a troubled mood, you would resort to going to your friends. You tried. You tried so hard to be there for him, to always check up on how he was doing. It just never seemed to be enough. He wouldn’t tell you how he was feeling or why he was acting the way he was. Bakugo was closed off to the world—and you weren’t an exception.

In the aftermath of it all, you were the one stuck at a standstill. You couldn’t function properly. This was the lowest you had ever been and it was all because of a stupid guy who could give less of a fuck about you and your well being.

You racked your brain, trying to recollect the truth behind the break up. All the arguments you had with each other, all the times he stood you up, every time he would lie to your face. You tried to come to terms with the broken promises and shattered chances that you endured. Yet, you would forgive him after it all. You were a pushover and you hated that.

You wanted to move on. You couldn’t stand to be stuck because of Bakugo. No matter how much you searched for the bad memories, there would always be a mirthful one resurfacing behind it all. You wanted to understand how it got this bad—how you allowed it to. Nothing put you at ease.

A knock came from your door. You hesitated before dryly shouting at the person on the other side, questioning who it was. When you received no response, you groaned, reluctantly pushing yourself up from the pile of blankets and stuffed animals.

You huffed, opening the door only to be met with the crimson gaze of your ex-lover. You could see the hurt in his eyes; the redness and glossy finish. Your eyes traveled his face, then the rest of his body. He carried a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a basket in the other.

“Hey.” Bakugo spoke after a moment of silence between you two.

“Hey.” You shamefully replied. You mentally face palmed, knowing you shouldn’t be talking to him. Instead, you should’ve slammed the door in his face, refusing any kind gesture he had to offer to you.

Who were you kidding? You couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

═════════════

[maxdibert]

Don’t you think it’s stupid to always excuse Snape’s actions when Snape himself hates what he’s done and regrets it because he knows he was a bastard? His fans are always trying to make him seem like a victim, but he knows he wasn’t one!!!

No, because I don’t have to agree with the character.

What I mean is, Severus feels bad about the things he did, sees them as despicable, and understands them as things he needs to atone for. I understand where this comes from, I understand why he thinks that way, but as an external individual, I can have my own opinion about his actions and conclude that, from my perspective, they weren’t that big of a deal. I mean, I can understand that in the context of the story, being a Death Eater is seen as a terrible sin and that’s why the character embarks on a journey of redemption, but that doesn’t mean that, as someone outside that story, if I rationalize it and extrapolate it to daily life, I can’t think it’s absolutely ridiculous that someone has to give up their life and sacrifice themselves for two decades to prove they’re not a piece of crap just because, as a teenager, they decided to follow a group of fanatics and later regretted it. In the same way, I understand how several people I’ve known made similar decisions back in the day and a decade later are deeply ashamed of it, but they’re now functional people who have channeled their lives into positive things.

I get that, from the perspective of a children’s novel, the figure of the nasty teacher who always tries to mess with the protagonist and his friends is treated by the narrative as something negative, not cool, and inappropriate. I also understand people who feel triggered by dysfunctional adults who can’t manage their trauma around kids. But as someone outside that narrative, I can think it’s utterly childish because I’m 28 years old, my friends and coworkers range from 25 to 35, and we’re all a mess because being an adult is absolute crap, and being an adult who’s overworked and dealing with mental baggage sometimes makes you a pretty unpleasant person.

I understand that, in the saga’s world, calling someone a “mudblood” is the worst insult ever. But as a human being outside that world, I understand that someone insulting another person in the middle of a traumatic, high-stress moment can’t just be condemned so easily because, well, there’s a context, and it’s perfectly understandable. And I also get that if you have a friend, and that friend is kind of flirting with your bully, they don’t just deserve an insult—they deserve two slaps.

So the point isn’t that I excuse Severus—it’s that my morality doesn’t allow me to see the things he did as unforgivable. I think he made some mistakes, and I think he paid a much higher price for them than he deserved, considering his background and personal context. The fact that he, as a character, might think his sins are much greater than how I perceive them is another matter. The fact that he, as a character, feels the need to endure decades of penance to feel like he’s atoned is also another matter. In the same way, I can think, in the real world, that what someone did is a triviality while, for them, it’s something deeply wrong, and they need to make amends for it. It’s a matter of perspective.

I’ve never denied in any analysis that Severus’s entire story revolves around guilt and the search for redemption. In fact, I often comment on it—that everything stems from his feelings of guilt. Now, if you ask me personally what my opinion on the matter is, I’d say he didn’t really have that much to feel guilty about because, on a scale of one to ten, his crimes are, at most, a six.

[writingdungeon]

Happy Endings

I felt bad leaving Alex all fucked up like that, but this is the Happy End so yay

Fluff, Angst, tears, and fears all lay ahead

"Dear Diary"

2. "The Past Reborn"

Alex was a mess. If he wasn't lying at your bedside, he was curled up in his own bed, unable to function. He didn't know what to do—he felt numb, he felt scared. It had been weeks, and you still hadn't woken up. Your burns and other injuries weren't serious enough to send you to the city, but Harvey hadn't left the clinic, dedicating all his time to caring for you. The sight of you lying motionless on the hospital bed, bandages wrapped around your wounds, was etched into Alex's mind, fueling his fears and anxieties.

Haley stepped up and cared for Alex the way you and his grandparents would have wanted. She made sure he was clean and fed, pulled him out of bed, and made him walk around. She knew that physical movement, no matter how small, was important for his mental health. "Alex, they are going to be fine," she said as she brushed his hair, her voice calm and soothing.

"How do you know..." he replied dully, his voice reduced to a whisper for a while now. He avoided looking at his reflection, feeling a profound sense of hopelessness. "Harvey has them, you know how good he is," she said, looking into the mirror and styling his hair. She paused, ensuring her words would sink in. "He's the best in town. He's been taking care of them day and night."

"But what if..." Alex started, his voice cracking as he began to sniffle, his mind stuck on all the what-ifs that ran wild through his head. He couldn't shake the thoughts of losing you, the fear of facing a future without you. "What if they walk out of the clinic today, Alex!" Haley huffed, moving to kneel in front of her best friend. "What about that? They could walk out just fine. Harvey said they would be okay, it just takes time, baby," she said, rubbing his face and flicking away the tears.

Alex looked at her, his eyes red and puffy from crying, searching for any glimmer of hope. "O-Ok..." he sobbed as he pulled Haley into a hug, feeling lucky to have her as a friend. He clung to her, drawing strength from her unwavering support. "Thank you, Haley," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Haley held him tightly, her own heart aching for both Alex and you. "We'll get through this together, Alex. Just one day at a time," she said softly. She knew it would be a long road to recovery, but she was determined to be there every step of the way, for both Alex and you.

Sitting at your head, he carefully brushed your hair out of your face. “Hey babe… You are looking better…” He said, trying not to cry as he talked to you. “I… I think I need to apologize to Sam, huh?” He asked, a small, weak laugh escaping his lips. “He was the one who tried to kick the bomb away…” He said dully as tears fell down his cheeks. Laying down on the bed, he looked up at your sleeping face. “You're gonna be okay, Farmer…” He said, kissing your hand and avoiding the IV lines. “I’ll be here making sure you’re okay…”

Alex stood in front of Sam’s house, frozen in fear and guilt. He had attacked Sam and hadn't seen him since that day. Knocking on the front door, he bit his lip, wondering if he should just go. The door opened a moment later, and Kent stared at Alex. ‘Shit,’ Alex thought, having preferred Jodi answer the door. “Alex,” Kent said, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Come in,” Kent said, motioning for him to come in. Walking into the home, Alex breathed in deeply, trying to calm his heart from beating out of his chest. “Sir…. I wanted to say I'm sorry…” He said, looking up at Kent fully expecting to be decked back. “Don't,” Kent said bluntly, placing his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I have explained to Sam that explosives are not toys over and over; he knows how dangerous they are,” Kent said, staring into Alex’s eyes. “He failed in placing the bomb so close to a ladder, thinking no one would come into the mines with them.” He said, his tone one of a soldier mid-war. “I am sorry Farmer had to take that failure.” He said, releasing Alex’s shoulder.

Kent sighed, his expression softening slightly as he continued, “But Sam has to learn from his mistakes. It's a harsh lesson, but it’s necessary.” He paused, glancing towards the door where Sam’s room was. “He’s been beating himself up over it too,” Kent said his face reflecting a worried father under the soldier facade. “Sam, get in here!” Kent called. A moment later, Sam appeared, still lightly wrapped in bandages himself. “Yeah, da-” His eyes fell on Alex before dropping to the ground, looking like a hurt puppy. “Hey, Alex…” he said softly.

“Get over here,” Kent said, watching his son. Sam dragged his feet moving in front of Alex, holding one of his arms for comfort, his eyes having trouble meeting Alex’s gaze. “Sam… I’m sorry,” Alex said softly, rubbing the back of his head. “What? No, I’m sorry, dude!” Sam said, looking at Alex in surprise.

“It was an accident, Sam… You got hurt trying to stop it…” Alex said, motioning to his still-hurt leg, the limp not gone yet. “I set the bomb off as well!” Sam said, tears welling up in his eyes and falling down his cheeks. “I hurt Farmer, Alex. It’s my fault…” He sobbed, his hands coming up to his face.

“Sam…” Alex whispered before gently grabbing him and pulling him into a hug, his own tears rolling down his cheeks. Alex clung to Sam, their tears raining down onto the rug as they both trembled with the weight of their emotions.

“It’s not your fault, Sam,” Alex murmured, his voice choked with emotion. “I didn't want to sell them to you guys, I should have said no, I didn't want you guys getting hurt either,” he admitted, holding Sam tightly as he cried. “Alex…” Sam sniffled as he wrapped his arms around him. The pair cried into each other, both giving apologies and reasons why they themselves were at fault. The dam broke and all the feelings and emotions flooded out. 

Once the two pulled apart, they couldn't help but laugh at each other, both eyes red and puffy, their noses a mess. “Thank you, Sam…” Alex said, hugging him tight again. “Thank you for trying.” He said, carefully squeezing him. “Thank you for not killing me.” Sam laughed as he held his friend back.

“I thought I’d lost you all for good,” Alex whispered, his voice trembling. “I was so scared,” Alex said softly.  “Me too,” Sam replied, his voice breaking. “Farmer will be okay,” Alex whispered softly trying to reassure both himself and Sam. Sam nodded, sniffling as he buried his face in Alex’s shoulder.

Kent watched the scene unfold, a mixture of sadness and pride in his eyes. “You boys are stronger than you think,” he said quietly, stepping forward and placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “We’ll get through this.”

It had been another few weeks, but Alex was starting to bounce back to himself. Eating and kind of working out again, he thought he would need to get back into shape so he could carry you around if needed. A quick knocking at the front door rang through the house. “One moment!” He heard Evelyn call out. Walking out of his room, he looked down the hall at the front door. The door opened to Maru, she had a wide smile on her face and was practically hopping up and down with excitement. “Oh hello dear, do you need something?” Evelyn asked sweetly as she stepped to the side to allow her inside. Maru shook her head no in response. “No, Ma’am, Farmer’s awake!” She cried out happily.

“Farmer…” Alex said, a smile splitting his face in two. He yelled an apology back to Maru and Evelyn as he almost ran them both over in his haste to get out of the house. His heart pounded with a mix of relief and exhilaration. He sprinted down the familiar path, Dusty's barks cheering him on, his mind racing with thoughts of seeing You again, awake and hopefully well. The weeks of worry and anticipation had weighed heavily on him, but now, with each step, he felt lighter, as if the burden was lifting. He couldn’t wait to see your face, to hear your voice, and to be reassured that everything would be alright.

As Alex rounded the final corner, the clinic came into view. He didn't feel his feet hitting the ground as he ran, barreling into Harvey's clinic nearly out of breath but fueled by pure adrenaline, making the older man jump out of his chair. “Sorry, Doc” he said softly, slowing down as he made his way back to you, his chest heaving slightly.

Pushing the curtain to the side, his eyes landed on yours, weakly open but open, a small smile on your face as you noticed him. “Alex…” Your voice was a bit hoarse, but it was your voice. You lifted a hand towards him, it shaking with the movement. Sitting on your bedside, he took your hand, kissing the palm. “Hi, babe…” he said into your palm before gently leaning down, hover-hugging you, not wanting to hurt you. “Harvey told me what happened.” You said as your hands felt Alex’s back, a small sob leaving your lips. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

He looked down at you like you were insane. “What are you apologizing for?” He chuckled as he wiped a tear of his that threatened to fall on you. “For worrying you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I know how scared you must have been.” Alex shook his head, his eyes glistening. “Hey, don’t even think about that. I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters.” He squeezed your hand gently, his touch warm and reassuring

“I… I…” You began, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body trembling with emotion. “I must have worried you so much.” Your trembling hands reached out, cupping his cheeks tenderly, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. “Farmer…” Your name escaped his lips in a choked whisper, reflecting the pain he felt seeing you in distress. Leaning in closer, he pressed his lips gently against yours, a silent reassurance in his touch.

“You're okay, that's all that matters to me,” he murmured softly, his eyes locked with yours, conveying his deep concern and affection. “You’re okay,” he repeated, his voice filled with sincerity as he tried to reassure himself as much as you. Brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, he pressed a tender kiss against it. “We are okay,” he affirmed, his smile offering solace amidst the turmoil of emotions. “We are okay,” you echoed, a faint smile gracing your lips, finding comfort in his words and presence.

He stood behind you, delicately brushing your hair, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he observed your reflection in the mirror. “There we go, almost perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft and tender as he leaned down to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. Catching Alex's eye, you looked up at him questioningly, sensing a hint of secrecy in his demeanor. “What do you mean almost, sir?” you teased, “It's just one thing…” You felt a slight weight being placed on your chest, causing you to turn back towards the mirror.

A gasp escaped your lips, and your eyes widened in surprise, as Alex beheld you, with the utmost care, adorning you with a mermaid pendant. “There, I think you look perfect now,” Alex said, a shy smile gracing his features as he looked down at you. Overwhelmed with emotion, you couldn't help but respond, “Oh, Alex, yes it is,” turning back to embrace him tightly. 

Time marched on, and you did heal, the scars left on your body a vivid reminder of how close you had come to death. That drove you two closer though, the reminder of how fleeting life is and that you never know what will happen, the reminder you should hold your loved ones close to yourself.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Bed all day - Simon "Ghost" Riley*GN!Reader

Just a short fluff inspired by my favorite song

content warning: 18+, mdni, hand job, morning sex

You crack an eye open, groaning at the beam of light pouring into the room because you didn’t close the curtain properly yesterday.

Stretching to pop your spine, you walk to the window and pull the curtain tighter, avoiding any bit of light interrupting your peaceful Sunday morning.

Simon is sleeping soundly on the bed, you always had a bad sleeping habit of kicking your comforter and making it pool at the end of the bed. On normal nights, he makes sure to pull it back to cover you in case you catch a cold, but last night he didn’t, and you gladly see that cause it means he’s having a better rest this time.

You lay back on the bed, it sinks slightly due to your weight, making Simon stir, hands probing around to search your warmness, and he lets out a small sigh when you snuggle closer to him and let his arms pull you by your midsection and tuck you back to his chest.

Your ear and his heart are just separate by his chest bone now, and you can hear his heartbeats, steady like a marching song, while you feel Simon's finger drawing small circles on your back.

“Did I wake you up?” You mumble to him, receiving a grunt and a little shaking of his head, his arms secure you tightly to his figure, so you squirm into a more comfortable position, and this is how you realize something is prodding at your thigh.

“Simon...” Oh, now he’s tracing kisses down your neck, his movements are slow, still groggy from his slumber, the finger drawing circles on you just a minute ago starts traveling down your spine, hands sometimes groping at your ass, sometimes trailing down to give your thigh little squeezes, as if he can’t decide what he wants more.

A shuddering moan leaves his lips when your hands sneak into his boxers, he’s hard, and precum leaks onto your hand when you start stroking him slowly.

“Naughty little thing...” Simon's eyes finally open, you can see the blurriness in those caramel-like eyes, but his gaze is stuck to yours, while you just give him a little swipe on his tip and make him choke back his teasing quip.

“You started it first, babe.” Faux innocence on your pretty face only turns him on more, but all those flirtings turn into little moans and groans when you speed up the pace, cupping his balls with your left hand, whilst your right hand swirls around his shaft, using his abundant precum as lube to slide your hand proficiently.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, those hot breaths of his pick up frequency when he climbs to the peak of orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, luv...slower...ahh...”Simon's hand catches your wrist in his, trying to control yours so he won’t come too quickly, so he can enjoy the delectation through his hazy mind just a little longer.

but you smirk when his hands tremble and fail to stop you “shhh, Simon, just cum, alright? I got you.”

The coos you say when you press your lips to his send him over the edge, a loud whine leaves him when the overwhelming bliss makes him lose other functions and become a moaning mess under your hands.

When he finally calms down, you already go to the bathroom to wash your hands, and clean him up with tissues.

Tossing the tissues sloppily into the trash can, you jump back on the bed, and Simon's arms snake around your waist immediately again.

“Want some breakfast?” You smiled sweetly up at him.

“Nah.”

“Just lay here?”

“mmhmm.”

You chuckle, your man truly needs some proper repose, and you can’t say you aren’t well-pleasing to just lay here all day. Sundays are a day for relaxation, and refreshing, and you are each other’s best company to purify your fatigued soul, so why not just lay here and enjoy the peaceful morning? You two have a whole day to indulge in each other’s soothing presence.

Simon already falls back to his dream, and you count his regular tiny snores, slowly but contently, joining him into the sleep.

[strxnged]

1k. (suggestive) misunderstandings, platonic. gn!reader.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Of all the questions you expected Kaveh the Architect to ask you on what you had supposed to be a first date, this was not among them. Indeed, being the juxtaposing type of question you’d expect any sane suitor to ask, it was flabbergasting, and you could hardly think of a reply to combat this. Your jaw dropped and you peered into his ruby eyes, searching the jewels for a saving clue.

“You can be honest,” he continued bewilderingly. “That’s why I wanted to properly meet you for coffee. So that we could talk like adults.”

No, of all the questions you anticipated coming from someone who had asked you to meet for coffee “as soon as possible,” bringing “just yourself,” this was not among them. But maybe it should have been. The urgent nature of it all may have been a clear enough indicator, had you paid attention. A bit awkwardly you realized how far off your assumptions about this all had been. To think that you’d thought he was trying to get into your pants. Taking you on a date first like an adult. Not asking you to coffee just to talk like one.

Finding no answers in his eyes, you settled your gaze on your joe and pondered. Then at last, with much less certainty than you had intended, you responded, “I… don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

You met his eyes. “I don’t hate you, moron.”

Kaveh visibly bristled. This was how you had expected him to look after you’d turned down his supposed sexual interest as planned. “I don’t buy it. After the way that you talk to me, how you’ve turned down my project ideas, how you talk about me to other people…”

There was much for you to unpack here, but the last point caught your own sense of urgency. Your mug came down onto the table harder than you meant. “I don’t talk about you to other people. What do you mean, how I talk about you to other people?”

“You know.”

“I don’t. Where is this coming from? Kaveh, what the hell?”

He swallowed and spoke with seemingly great effort. “Alhaitham said… that you said… you can’t bear to be around me.”

“Kaveh.”

“Yes?”

“Alhaitham isn’t people. Alhaitham is person. A person who has been known to enjoy messing with you.”

He hesitated, and then declared, “A lot of the stuff he says is true. Even if it’s utterly uncalled for.” Kaveh looked anywhere but at you. “Sorry. I just…”

You looked him up and down. Here, you’d thought he was all of the things he wasn’t. And here he thought you were all of the things that you were not. You let a short laugh slip, and then quickly covered your smile with your knuckle.

He spoke feebly and towards the cafe aisle instead of you. “I’m taking this seriously. I don’t want you to hate me. Can’t we talk about it?”

Oh, it was sweet, and ironic, and delightful, and hilarious.

“Yes, Kaveh. Let’s talk about it.”

He glanced at you and quickly away again, nodding. His avoidance of eye contact made you feel a bit bad, but for only a second. You wanted to get the truth out before you made any attempt at comforting the poor soul.

“I don’t hate you,” you continued. “I don’t even dislike you. I like your company and I think you’re marvelous and creative. I think—and this is what I told Alhaitham—I think that if I spent too much time with you, I’d become more engaged myself, and I’m just not ready for that change in my life. Or I wasn’t. I was too comfortable with the status quo.” You paused to sip your bitter coffee, trying to figure out the words for the rest of it.

“But my projects,” he said, “my project ideas, the ones you refused to help with.”

“You wouldn’t want to do those with little old me,” you replied, simply and honestly.  

“I really would.”

“No, Kaveh. You don’t understand. I’m not brilliant like you. I’m a materialist, a realist, a square-cut function-obsessed gadgeter. I don’t do pretty designs. I can’t contribute to—” You gestured as if his mind was splayed out as a galaxy of ideas before you. “—All that.”

He tilted his head, looking again keen and reactionary. 

“And I’m sorry,” you finally said, “for how… for how blunt I can be. And I know I can be mean. I swear it’s just the way I talk, it’s not—”

He cut you off. “So I’m not the one you hate?”

“What do you…” It was your turn to cock your head. 

“I mean…” He raised an eyebrow, not mockingly. “You’re just unhappy, aren’t you?”

You set your mug down and leaned your elbows onto the table. He looked intently back at you now. Like a friend. Like someone who cared about being hated by you, and someone who cared about you hating yourself.

You cleared your throat, grasping at the straws of a changed subject. “I thought this was gonna be a date, nitwit. Not a therapy session.”

“A date?” He looked horrified.

You laughed at his expression, feeling all sorts of relieved. “Good to know neither of us were looking for that.”

“Tell me: Why would I ask you on a date if I thought you hated me?”

“Oh, Kaveh.”

“That doesn’t make an inch of sense.”

“Speaking of inches. Are you sure you want those columns in that desert library design to be that thick? Why not just have a few more columns among the shelves?”

And as quickly as that, the fear and sensitivity in his face faded and was replaced by glowing defense of his idea. 

The supposed date turned into a shrewd planning convention and you watched the remaining tension leak from his fingertips as he gestured at his invisible designs in the air. You thought, yes, this is why I can’t bear to be around him. He’s so bright and alive. It burns my eyes.

But you were alive too, thanks to the warm late-night caffeine. And thanks also, perhaps, to the feeling that the conversation you had avoided earlier might come around again, and that you didn’t mind that. You didn’t mind the idea of more conversations with Kaveh.

author's note. i don't know, guys, i think i'm obsessed with being this guy's friend. and... yeah, this is sort of a vomit of words about how easily social signals are misinterpreted, especially when you're ANTISOCIAL like me. i'm fine though. do not worry.

consider reblogging or leaving a reply if you enjoyed.

➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST

[the-final-sif]

Well, it's for a school research paper and we have to gather data on how social media affects stress and people's mental health.

Thank you for answering my dumbass questions even though it probably seems stupid, i really appreciate it

First off, asking for help on finding sources is not stupid/dumbass, it's the opposite. Smart people ask for help when they don't know what they're doing.

Second, since you said school and not uni, I'm going to assume you're at high school level roughly and not uni/college. If so, then google scholar is going to be a fine starting point for you to find sources. It's generally user friendly and going to provide decently quality for what you need.

Unlike main google, it's been untouched by the AI nonsense and functions mostly like it did 5 years ago. It's also handy because it will often provide free copies of papers when it can find one. It should help you get some good research papers as sources that you can use as citations, and it'll let you save articles/handles citations for you.

Here's a quick guide for what you need to know to use google scholar!

When searching, put in keywords, NOT questions.

For reasons unclear to me, search engines and humans being weird has trained people to type in queries to search engines like questions. This is bad!!! It will get you worse results!! You want to instead remove any unnecessary words and focus in on giving the computer the most unique keywords to match you with what you actually want. For example:

BAD: how does social media affect stress and mental health?

BETTER: social media stress effect mental health

BEST: social media mental health

You really want to par down your keywords as much as possible, limiting connector or filler unless you absolutely need it. The more specific words you use (ie using "depression" rather than the more general "mental health") the more specific your results. Focus on practicing that and you'll do excellent.

With that out of the way, for actual google scholar use:

Right here, we have a very important feature, the free copy. If google can pull up a free public copy of a paper, it will! Always use those when possible.

Always check the date on the research you're pulling! For a topic like social media, I would be wary of pulling any source that's 5 years or older, since it's an evolving landscape! For other topics, the rules vary a lot depending on the topic and quality of research available.

Next up, saving & citation. The save button lets you save an article for later. You can stick it on a particular list. Handy for keeping track of sources. The cite button generates citations for you, in most of the common styles. Saves you having to mess with making them yourself.

Finally! Further research! When you click down here, you can see articles that have cited this paper and related articles. Both are quite handy for exploring a particular topic further as you look for research that builds on what you've found. Particularly when the area you're looking at is niche or highly specific. Also a great way to find systematic reviews of data that are sometimes a bit stubborn about showing up in research results.

Hopefully all of that is helpful, best of luck on your paper anon!

[the-badger-mole]

Okay okay okay so-

I've been scrolling through your Tumblr and enjoying many of your points but I have no idea what you're talking about when you refer to the "lava fissure incident" cause even being obsessed with the show I never read the comics

Can you pleaaaase give me a general idea? 🤠

I have addressed this before in a post that I think was better than this one, but I can't find it because Tumblr will do anything to "improve this cesspool of a site except make the Archive and search function better. If you want to look thorough my posts, have at it. I think I wrote it within the last 3ish years, but if, like me you don't have that kind of time, here's the nutshell version.

There's a scene in the "Love Is a Battlefield" comic where Aang is trying to talk to Katara about the kiss at DoBS, and she is trying to change the subject and get Aang to practice his firebending (you know, that thing he has to do so he can end the war?). Aang doesn't like that she's not willing to talk about their relationship so in fit of temper, he opens a lava fissure in her face.

Aang: Fine! You want fire? I'll show you fire!!!

The scene ends with Aang feeling sorry for himself, not that he let his anger lead him to almost hurt Katara with fire (again! And this time on purpose), but because he thinks he's going to get his heart broken. Because that's the important thing here.

What disturbed me most was how it was framed. We, the audience, are also supposed to feel sorry for Aang. Who just opened up a lava fissure in the face of the girl he claims to love because she doesn't want to talk about him kissing her. Keep in mind, this happens a few episodes before EIP, where Katara- having recently experienced Aang literally blow up at her for not immediately falling at Aang feet and declaring her undying love- hesitates to tell Aang what she feels for him. This scene, with Aang intentionally doing something that could've seriously hurt Katara, comes before the one where he kisses her without her consent. For the second time. It comes after the heartbreaking end of the DoBS invasion, where Katara's father was captured so Aang could escape. And, narratively, this is not supposed to be a major character flaw in Aang. We, the audience, are supposed to feel bad for him!! Had Zutara not been a thing, I would still hate Aang just for this.

The fact that Katara isn't hurt here means nothing to me. This is the equivalent of a guy throwing dishes at the wall, because he's angry, but not actually throwing it at his partner. I've had people tell me I can't use this against Aang because it's OOC.... Is it, though? Is it really OOC for Aang to throw a super powered tantrum because he's upset? Is it?

BTW, could Bryke have been any lazier with that title? Leave Pat Benatar out of this mess, please!

[autumnvine]

Help her

Summary: Almost finishing for maternity leave driving home from work yn has a bad car crash while on the car speaker phone to her husband Tom.

TW: Major car crash, details, blood, hospital, pregnancy.

This was never suppost to happen, your car totalled, the roof on the road and wheels facing upward to the clouded sky, blood, broken glass and chunks of your cars exteriour sprayed everywhere across the road. Head pounding as you dangled with your seatbelt upside down in your vehicle.

"Darling can you hear me? What's happening?" A thick English accent bellowed through the car speakers, Your name being called over and over. "I'm coming" he shouted, through the phone once again, Life360 was a mirracle for situations like this, knowing exactly where to find you.

About ten minuites had passes until someone's dark boots appeared by your window, a pair of strong arms opening the door, unfastening the seatbelt and catching you as you fell free from the seat, he pulled you out of the car, laying you gently on the curbside, brushing the hair off your face searching for any injuries, your nose was bleeding a little above your eyebrow too, the back of your head was okay, scanning over your body, noticing your coat torn at the shoulder, a few scrapes over your elbow with a few dropplets of blood, a thick deep red patch soking your white blouse covering your stomach area, "oh god". Behind you came flashing blue lights and sirens fleeing down the road,

"What happened?" A woman with red hair asked the man beside you

"I...I don't know, I was on the phone with her, she's my wife,she's pregnant, we were laughing and then she shouted and I heard a crashing and banging oh god, I..I pulled her out of there, I don't know just help her, please"

"What's her name?"

"Yn Hiddleston"

"What's your name"?

"Tom Hiddleston, she's bleeding please help her"

Suddenly a croud of paramedics, surrounded you, pushing Tom to the side, his heart breaking, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the blood covering his hands. It wasn't long before you were taken away, Tom holding your hand in the back of the ambulance, a paramedic driving his car behind following closely behind to the hospital.

On arrival they took you away from Tom, running with you down the corridors, pushing you through doors Tom wasn't allowed passed, he was fighting it, wanting to be with you, a sobbing mess as they took you away from him.

It had been hours since he saw you, pacing in the waiting room more times then he could count, reliving each moment, trying to process exactly what had just happened. He processed each event leading up to this moment

Flashback

"Good morning my love" Tom kissing your forhead as you woke in his arms, smiling at him "Good morning, care to join me in the shower?"

"I'd love nothing more" he replied, as you both climbed out of bed and kissed eachother again, Tom kissed your stomach "Good morning little bean"

The two of you were smitten, totally in love and soon to be expanding your family, you were so close to finishing up work ready for maternity leave, he was beside himself with joy and love for you both when you told him you were expecting, from that moment on he was always at your side taking care of you both. After the shower you had breakfast together, had your vitamins, gotten dressed, applied your makeup and your hair in a bun for the office.

You called Tom on your lunch break, thanking him for the packed lunch me had made for you, and explaining how your morning was going, Tom reminding you gently to lay off your caffine intake, you were addicted to coffee you needed it to function, but given the life growing inside you, that amout of coffee was no longer acceptable, possible only having one or two cups for the whole day.

After your shift you called Tom, laughing with him as you explained you were no longer adicted to coffee and have gone the full day without one cup, he was proud of you, Tom was always proud of you, "I was thinking for dinner we could go out somewhere, not fancy or anything just out for a while or catch a movie?" you asked Tom He agreed with you and loved the idea of a date night to celebrate the coming weekend, dinner and a movie sounded cliche but it didn't matter, you loved it. After you first started going out with Tom one of the first thing you did was go for a burger and caught a movie, since then it has always been your thing, every now and then going for something to eat and a film, sacrificing the whole night for just you two, no work, no phones, no calees, no script reading or meeting scheduling, it was time the two of you connected.

"What are you feeling like? Pizza, pasta, burgers, what about some icecream, no wait not icecream you can't eat icecream, what about the dish you liked before with the mashed potato and the mince perhaps with"

"OH CRAP! OH MY-" you cut Tom off mid sentence, shouting and screaming down the phone

"Yn what's happening, what's wrong? Are you alright? YN!"

Tom felt completely helpless, hearing you screming for him down the phone, shortly followed by a loud band, and crashing, then it all went silent, "Darling can you hear me? What's happening? YN! I'm coming"

Checking his phone to see where you were, running to his car, speeding down the street, jumping every red light to get to you, driving along the same road you were just ten minuites prior, he saw parts of a car as he drove past, the broken glass, the bumper, your car. "Oh God Yn" he put his hazard lights on although the road was fairly quiet, "YN!" he shouted your name over and over, running to the driver door, seeing you there upside down, Tom was trying so hard to keep it together, now wasn't the time to panic, he needed to help you, he needed to help his baby. Crying and pulling you out of the car, all he could think about was you, he needed you, he couldn't live woithout you, he wouldn't , you ment everything to him.

"Mr Hiddleston?" A womens gentle voice called him from the waiting room , Tom spun around to face the woman, a nurse with light blue scrbs, "Is she okay, My wife, she, has to be okay, please?"

"She's alright, she's stable"

Tom cried in relief, "Thank you, oh god thank you, and, our baby? She was bleeding, her stomach, there was so much blood, she's pregnant, please is our baby okay?" The silence cut through Tom harder then anything, time stood still as he waited to hear,

"You should sit down, Mr Hiddleston your shaking, Sir your family is okay, they're both alright, your daughters here, she's in the NICU, but i think she'll be just fine. She is a little smaller because she's premautre, but she's a fighter like her mother."

"My daughter" Tom whispered, "We have a girl?"

"Congratulations, you're a father to a very beautiful little girl.

Your wife sustained some pretty extensive injurys, it was the best option to save them both. Your wife is tired and her body had gone through alot of trauma, but you can see her, however you can't meet your daughter until she comes out of the NICU as the babies have little to no immune system, Tom nodded agreeing and understanding. He hugged the nurse thanking her, "I want to see my wife"

Tom sat beside you, just staring at you looking at his wife, bandaged up, looking a little better then when he found you many hours ago. Words couldn't desrcibe his emotions, Tom was scared, terrified, proud of you for fighting through this. All night he sayed there, barely sleeping afried to close his eyes just incase you woke or something happened.

Tom was always there for you, when you woke up you saw your hand your knuckles cut and sore, everything hurt but Tom was there holding your hand, talking to you, comforting you, stopping you from having a panic attack. "Tom are you alright?" noticing his eyes red and a few tears rolling down his cheeks, "I thought I'd never see you again Yn, I love you, oh goodness I love you so much, everythings okay now, you are okay yn, your alright"

"Tom the baby?"

"She's okay"

"She, were having a girl?"

"Darling we have a girl." your face said it all, what did he mean have, surley he ment having, not have. "She's in the NICU, she's tiny, and beautiful, and she's our little fighter"

Your eyes welled up, "She's okay"

"Tom what happened to me? Why is our baby in the NICU? What's going on?" He explained to you that everything was alright, there was an accident but it's all okay now. "You're both safe, that's all that matters right now. You can rest daring, everything is alright, and we can meet our daughter soon"

[tarithenurse]

Inhuman

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader, eventually Loki x fem!reader, Stucky, more (some canon, some not). Word count: 2466. Contents: Bad jokes (like, really bad), a lead, moving. A/N: Any comments? Feedback? Anything? Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag.

Chapter 14

... Reader’s PoV ...

You’ve volunteered to cook again, and thankfully it helps take your mind off the phone and the new information it contains. The others have gotten into the habit of hanging out in the kitchen when you cook (Tony does it mostly to taste things during the process), chatting, enjoying a drink and generally pretending to be normal housemates.

“Hey, Bruce!” Tony’s already grinning from ear to ear. “Do you know the one about the two scientists that walked into a bar?” An unintelligible grunt supposedly makes it out for a no. “The first one orders an H2O, the second says…I’ll have an H2O too. He’s dead after two minutes.”

The two geniuses lose it, one almost cackling like a hyena, and you wait patiently until they’ve calmed somewhat down.

“Of course not.” Your voice’s dry and you barely grant them a glance. “‘cause the bartender’s able to distinguish the boundary tones that dictate the grammatical function of homonyms in coda position as well as pragmatic context.” Flipping the veggies in the pan, the men are finally granted a smirk.

“…leave it to a linguist to be a party-pooper,” the owner of Starks Industries pouts until interrupted by FRIDAY announcing a possible match for the search algorithm.

You’d completely forgotten all about the project you were working on and the others look even more confused.

Asking Nat to grab the laptop, you start explaining about the wannabe detective work and show them the footage FRIDAY has scrounged up for you. Then you get to the interesting part.

“The man in the vehicle appears to be Russian born Ivan Vasiliev,” FRIDAY explains, “he moved to the United States of America at age two in 1982 together with his parents and two older sisters. Growing up in Boston he appears to have left high school early, after the presumed death of his mother. Since then the family deteriorated and eventually Vasiliev was charged with arson causing the death of his father. However, the charges were dropped due to lack of concrete evidence. Since then, Vasiliev has been living secluded from others, often moving and with no steady income.”

Natasha’s the one who’s used to going through information the fastest and figuring out connections, and it’s nice to receive an approving nod from her.

“FRIDAY, track that guy in the days before the explosion. And send all this information to Coulson too.”

...

After dinner, you get to relax as the others can clean up the mess you’ve inevitably created during the endeavours in the kitchen...good food comes at a cost.

Relaxing in the usual chair with your legs hanging over the armrest, looking at the snow that’s now piling up outside, you’re flipping and twisting the phone like it’s white hot. If you’d had any illusions that the tension would evaporate once you manage to write and send a text then you’d be sorely mistaken. You’d think these sorts of things would get easier with age...

Natasha plumps onto the couch, kicking the shoes off while complaining about the lack of a warming fire. Dutifully, Steve gets to work on it while Bruce drags out the chess board with the game the two men have been playing. Mostly it’s Bruce teaching Steve, but their skills are rapidly drawing closer to each other as long as Steve doesn’t listen to any so-called advice given by Nat or Tony.

The sound of a gong emanates from your pocket announcing a new message. Damn butterflies! It’s from Bucky, of course, making your heart do somersaults.

Nat’s has been watching in her usual, predatory manner, just waiting for something to pounce on to elevate the boredom. “Your eyes just turned a sort of gold...why’d they do that? Who’s texting?”

“A uh…friend of mine I haven’t heard from in ages.”

You’re well aware of how hard it is to keep any truth from Nat and there’s no doubt she wants to know more, but she accepts the simple answer and goes back to watching the chess game, allowing you to focus on the phone.

… …

You’ve received the final verdict: the training’s almost over and if you want you can settle down anywhere on the North American continent, but Coulson asks if you could be convinced to work at the infirmary at Headquarters when not needed by the Avengers. It’s an appealing idea to have something to do on a daily basis, something that brings meaning and normality to life.

Consequently, you’re packing the few belongings you’ve had shipped from home so far before you’ll be heading to the Big Apple to check out a couple of different places available to you thanks to Stark’s financials.

You’ve set your eyes on a loft in Brooklyn, and two apartments (both in Queens). None of them much more than one or two rooms, but on paper perfect for you. Your thoughts are wandering as you slide the sketch book and files into the last cardboard box.

Three boxes are standing full now, but you only bring the little trolley when you board the quinjet together with Bruce and Natasha, just in case none of the places are appealing after all.

As you take off, you look back down on the Bunker that’s lying peacefully with the snow-covered mountains in the background. Next moment it’s lost due to the heavy winter clouds.

On the way to the East Coast, you’ve been texting with Bucky and Steve asking about the neighbourhoods. They’ve both volunteered to check out the places and show you the areas until Steve suddenly retracts his offer. Odd...or not?

Now, touching down at HQ, your stomach’s filling with butterflies again at the possible reasons for the change of plan.

It’s not Bucky but Coulson that meets the travellers as you step out onto the tarmac. Bruce and Natasha don’t stay after the greetings but head off in different directions (the scientist’s checking up on some project with Simmons, and Nat’s continuing with the jet to Clint’s place).

Following the Director with the trolley in tow you listen to his practical talk about when to meet at work and other practical things, plus he shows you the way to the infirmary and the locker room.

Next stop is his office. Offering a chair, he sits on the edge of the desk, facing you with that crooked, secretive smile of his.

“I’m happy that you don’t mind helping us out here. Frankly we have a number of associates and employees that need a more specialized care than we can offer.”

“You suggested it yourself and I admit, I need something more to do than train with Natasha every day.”

“I’ll send you the contract, but for now I’ve something for you...” Coulson reaches down behind the desk, pulling out a drawer. When his hand reappears, he’s holding a badge which he tosses to you. “Welcome to SHIELD.” Beaming like a kid presenting the most precious homemade gift to a parent.

“Th-thank you! Thank you very much!”

As opposed to the parent, you mean it despite the twinge of apprehension. The badge’s shiny silver inside a black leather cover that can flip closed over the metal. It’s lying heavy in your hand.

“I assume you want the rest of the week to look for places to live….we have some options,” he hands a list of addresses, “most are generously made available by Stark. Once you find a place, assuming it’s ready to move into, we can have all of your belongings brought to you within 24 hours.” You’re still processing what just happened, lost in a whirl of emotions until Coulson coughs gently. “Anything else?”

“Sorry, no-no! Just…finding my life a bit surreal.”

The honesty makes him laugh, leaving a smile in his fatherly eyes as you shake hands and you find the way back down with the elevator.

Stepping outside in the late afternoon dusk, you glance at the phone only to find that there are no new messages since the last one from Bucky where he tells you to meet him there...but there’s no one.

… Bucky’s PoV …

Bucky’s cursing himself for being late. He knows the car’s touchy when it’s this cold. Damnit. Even if he’s got to stick to a strictly platonic relationship it’s still not alright to keep a lady waiting.

Swinging up in front of the main entrance he lets another curse fly albeit this time for a different reason. Her tight jeans are leaving a lot less to the imagination than he was prepared for as she’s bending down towards something in the snow. If she’d been facing the other way, then at least he’d only be staring at her back and shoulders.

She straightens up just as he parks the car by the curb and a series of comfortably buzzing jolts travel along his spine as she smiles to him. Stop it, you moron. You know what you gotta do. And he braces himself as he pushes the car door open.

“Have you waited long? Hi!” His stress makes her laugh a bit as he gets out of the car and around to her side. He keeps his distance, though a slight pang of disappointment makes his heart ache.

“…no, not long at all…” A greenish brightness in her eyes replaced by the usual shade. “Besides…I’ve been able to entertain myself...”

She indicates towards her work, causing Bucky’s mind to boggle at the host of tiny snowmen and the beginning of something larger. Maybe a snow dragon? One of his eyebrows shoots upwards in disbelief at the view of the miniatures.

“Then you must’ve been here a long time…or you’ve grown extra arms.” Fuck. Crap. Damn. “I’m sorry, the old piece of junk’s having a hard time.” Grabbing the trolley, he hoists it into the trunk and as he slams it shut, flakes of rust fall off as if to prove the point. “But at least it’s warm inside. Get in and tell me where to first.”

… Reader’s PoV …

First destination’s the loft in Brooklyn. It takes almost an hour to get there due to traffic, but it feels like less because of the company. Bucky’s talking about the city and how it’s changed since he lived here in the forties and it’s hard not to warm up to his friendliness despite the odd buffer that lingers in his words and movements. You notice the stolen glances he shoots you, but he seems dead set on being a perfectly chaste gentleman.

Eventually, the ride does end, though, and he pulls up outside a red brick building. Getting out of the car you look around at the quiet area (relatively speaking) with small shops and a diner or two on each their corner further off. On this street, there’s the typical amount of graffiti and things are worn from years of use...but nothing’s broken. The building's lying across from Prospect Park and the Botanical Gardens. Ringing the doorbell, you’re let in by the real-estate agent.

On the way up, you sense some of the neighbours. An old couple downstairs to the right, some empty floors, a mom and her two kids to the left on third and a young woman above them. Bucky and you’re headed to the seventh floor which is as high as it goes here.

Stepping through the door on the left you enter a small hall and are met by the friendly face of a lady introducing herself as Donna. She lets you look around on your own.

The apartment’s technically one big room (and a few smaller) in four odd levels, the second of which starts where the hallway ends as there are two steps going down (in the hall there are doors leading to both sides with the left hiding small room with washer and dryer; right’s a lavatory, and a storage room).

Walking in you see a kitchen to the left with a window at the sink. The area’s shaped like a U with the bottom and one side confined by a low wall over which you can see the rest of the place. The hallway’s opened up to the other side, clearing an area in front of tall windows where a dining table can stand.

Passing through that and past the kitchen you reach a winding metal staircase leading to an upper level where one corner’s closed off to hold a fancy new bathroom. The other side could easily be a bedroom even though there’s a banister instead of a wall at the edge of the repose.

Underneath the repose, a few steps lead down on the right side of the stairs into the remaining two thirds of the room with more big windows facing out towards the park while the rest’s accessible by going to the left at the winding stairs. In your mind, she’s already placing her desk and bookcases there.

Bucky’s taking a much more practical approach to things...he’s walking around inspecting the plumbing and electricity and the sturdiness of the beams holding up the upper level, and you know you should probably be critical too, but honestly…you love the place. Thankfully, he ends up approving of the condition of the place in the end, so half an hour later you’ve got the keys to your new home. Payment’s sorted, and you’ve been promised to have your things by 14:00 next day.

The only thing you haven’t had yet is a kiss or a hug from Bucky.

“I used to know this neighbourhood quite well, but some things change and those that don’t...” He looks out the window although you’re not sure you see the same out there right now.

“You’re from here…”

“Me and Steve both. Now I’ve got a place in Queens...” He shudders by the thought of it, but there’s a grin on his face.

…

You decide to stock the fridge with the bare essentials. Having no bed yet, you need to either find an airbed or a hotel room. There aren’t a lot of airbeds available for some weird reason, but the groceries are taken care off easily at a small convenience store only two blocks away which, to Bucky’s delight, is the same that was there back in his days. Only the staff has changed – of course.

You also find a diner and head back there after stowing the groceries away. It may not be a fancy celebratory dinner, but you’re both having fun talking about childhoods and families now that the initial awkwardness’ wearing off. For the first time, Bucky’s taken off the jacket and gloves, revealing the metal arm that’s protruding from the pushed up sleeve of a very well-fitting Henley. No one seems to notice or care which sets him further at ease.

[azureeall]

So after I posted the last few drawings for the night and kissed my Optimus figure good night I IMMEDIATELY got a nightmare and it was pretty bad to a point where I have to yap about it right after I woke up from it (it's currently 2 am but who cares)

Apparently this nightmare isn't like the usual scary monsters or dark alleys like traditional nightmares but rather... It was just my room. And it actually just looked like how my room normally looks like probably at the time I was sleeping as well.

But what's different are my stuff that are in my room. It all started out just fine until everything just evolves into utter chaos.

Starting off there's my Optimus figure. I put him on my desk after cuddling with him on my bed so that I don't accidentally sleep on him. And if you're wondering yes this was the exact thing I did right before I went to sleep (call me cringe or weird for that idc but that's not the main point.) Anyways I noticed that there were a few of his pieces missing and started looking for them. Once I found one I noticed he started losing more pieces. I continued searching for them but he just kept losing more and more to a point where he's just FUCKING DETERIORATING. At that point his pieces were just every where. My desk, my bed, and idk maybe the fucking backrooms too now that I think about it. Also a bunch of them that used to be just whole pieces that had fallen off are now literally broken. And the actual figure himself? Almost unrecognizable.

Next there was my phone. Somehow my phone just got this really big crack that could actually split the thing into 2. I tried to hold it more gently but the crack just kept getting worse and worse until it actually split into 2. And the 2 pieces didn't have the regular jagged edges on where it snapped. It was something like what I could describe as REALLY sharp teeth. But somehow after all of that my phone was actually still functional??? Though I still panicked cuz who wouldn't panic if their phone just mysteriously snapped even if it was still working.

Another thing I remember was my tablet. It didn't actually broke or anything, it just kept... teleporting... somehow. It wasn't that much of a concern compared to everything else that was happening but the fact that it kept teleporting made me worry that I might break it. You see, during this whole thing my room just kept getting messier and messier so I had to keep moving my tab. And when I started spiraling down into madness, that's when I actually worry about breaking it.

Oh and all of this wasn't just happening one by one. Everything was happening SIMULTANEOUSLY. I had to worry about my deteriorating Optimus, my cracked phone, my teleporting tablet, and everything else that happened in between all at the same fucking time. And the fact that the situation just gradually became worse really made me feel like I was losing my marbles.

At its worst point, everything was a MESS. Stuff scattered everywhere, new items appear outta nowhere. Hell there was even a whole fucking desk that just spawned next to my bed. And what was on that desk? Even more stuff. There were just so many things happening at once to a point where I just started having a panic attack.

At some point I thought to myself that all of this was just too bad to be true, and thought that all of this could just be a dream. So I tried waking myself up but yknow what happened? I JUST WOKE UP TO THE SAME DREAM AGAIN. At first I thought I actually woke up but things were still as bad as they were so I tried waking up again. Every time I try to wake up it just kept taking me to the same dream over and over again, with each time I wake up, the false "realities" Just kept feeling more and more realistic, as if it's trying to entrap me in this illusion.

I kept waking and waking, trying to finally free myself from this nightmare, until I actually woke up. My head was heavy and hurting, and so were my eyes. But when I looked around, everything was exactly where it was before I fell asleep into that madness. My Optimus was intact, my phone was unscathed, my tablet was where I last left it, and everything was in its tidy... but not so tidy condition (I'm not the best at cleaning my room ok.) But everything was finally normal

Now I'm not sure if I should go back to sleep again or nah.

[spaced-out-tiger]

Misfit Menagerie AU incorrect quotes cause I’m bored (might draw some of these later)

- - -

Riley: On the count of three, what’s your favorite cake?

Riley & Ryker: One, two, three-

Riley & Ryker: Chocolate cake, peanut-butter frosting, and chocolate chunks!

Doey: Our turn, Bobby! One, two, three-

Doey: Vanilla!

Bobby: I’ve never had cake before. What is cake?

Doey: I'm naturally funny because my life is a joke.

Riley: Snow got me feeling some type of way.

Doey: That's hypothermia.

Riley: Damn, the paramedics told me it was the magic of Christmas.

Ryker: Wake up! The sun is shining!

Riley: What do you want me to do, photosynthesis?

Ryker: Onion rings are vegetable donuts.

Doey, used to Ryker being dumb: Sure...

Ryker: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed.

Doey: Okay?

Ryker: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake.

Doey:

Ryker: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio-

Doey: Jeez, that one is a little-

Bobby, interested: No, no, Ryker, keep going.

Bobby: Riley, I want a bedtime story!

Riley: I’m busy, Bobby. I’ll tell you one tomorrow.

Bobby: If you don’t tell me a story, I won’t go to bed!

Riley: Once upon a time, there was a kid named Bobby, who always wanted things their way. One day, their friends got sick of it and locked them in the basement for the rest of their life. Everyone else lived happily ever after. The end.

Bobby: I don’t like these stories with morals.

Riley: Is this a good idea?

Riley: Probably not.

Riley: Do I care?

Riley: No.

Doey: Real life should have a search function, or something.

Doey: I need my socks.

Riley: I am convinced Ryker and Bobby share a brain cell.

DogDay: And it's not in use very often, it seems.

Emma: I just wanna be called cute 21/7.

Doey: Why not 24/7?

Emma: Snack breaks.

June: I love making parties more interesting by telling strangers “I want you to know that I personally have no problem with you being here.”

Bobby: *Gasp*

Riley: wHAT??

Bobby: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish?

Riley: *inhales*

DogDay, in another room with Doey: Why can I hear screeching?

Ryker: The risk I took was calculated but, man, am I bad at math.

Doey, handing out popsicles: which flavor do you want?

Bobby: blue flavor!

Doey: uh you mean blue raspberry?

Bobby: blue flavor! Blue flavor!

Doey: Blue is not a flavor!

Bobby: BLUE FLAVOR!

Riley: Bobby has discovered "deez nuts" jokes and it's all they say now. Everything is deez nuts. They simply can't stop.

Riley: I asked Bobby where they learned that joke. They made me promise they wouldn't get in trouble if they told me. I agreed.

Riley: So they lean in and whisper, "deez nuts."

Riley: What if people had food names and food had people names?

Ryker: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Riley for dinner.

DogDay: What is wrong with you people?

Bobby: Shut up, chocolate.

*The squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one*

DogDay: I will not let you down.

Bobby: Sounds fun.

Ryker: K.

Kissy: *glares* (which means ‘No, I'm not.’)

Doey: Do I have to be?

Riley: Please god, I am so tired.

Bobby: Assert your dominance over your friends by kicking them in the face, and then giving them a little smooch on the forehead!

Riley: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Ryker: ... Your what?

Riley: My friends.

Doey: Are they saying “friends”?

Ollie: I think they're being sarcastic.

Bobby: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Riley! All of your friends are in this room.

Bobby: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen.

Ryker: That’s a snake.

Riley: DogDay… I’m bleeding…

DogDay: Oh god… what’s your blood type?!

Riley: B positive…

DogDay: I’m trying to but you’re bleeding-

Ollie: Yeah, I’m a false prophet, but you believed me, so whose fault is it really that we’re in this mess?

Ryker: You ever get so tired that you start seeing spiders?

Ollie: Me after I take 17 Benadryl and start seeing the hat man.

Ryker: THE WHO?

Ollie: Oh is this not a safe space suddenly?