#had not a clue what to do with this prompt

[parfaitblogs]

over the moon ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a bout of insomnia prompts the usage of your arguably overworked baking equipment. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. cliché flour fight into kissing... sorry... no i'm not. use of pet names. make out sesh (obviously).  word count: 1.4k a/n: also known as spencer and reader take on the margotlia bucket list for margovember!!! happy birthday to my lover @pathologicalreid!!! who has very quickly become my other half on this silly little side of tumblr. a prophet told me there are snickerdoodle cookies and a smithsonian date with our names on it in our futures ♡

"Honey, please tell me the light on in the kitchen is you getting a glass of water."

Like a deer in headlights, you're frozen in your beelined pathway between the fridge and the countertop of Spencer's kitchen, the carton of eggs in your hands preventing any attempt of a lie to him.

"Uh..." Your eyes lock with his, and he's visibly deflating upon spotting the pantry's baking ingredients arranged in front of you. "I'm just getting water?"

"I didn't realise you put sticks of butter into your water," he counters, voice meticulously picking apart your lie in front of your face. "Does that taste good?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sure," he nods his head, his feet carrying him over to you behind the counter. "What recipe have you chosen to victimise today?"

"Snickerdoodle cookies," you mumble, as his arms wrap around your waist, and his chin sits on your shoulder, eyes peering at your phone screen that had the cookie recipe open. 

"Any particular reason?" 

"I couldn't sleep," you explain. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah," he nods, and a beat passes where you mumble a quiet apology to him, before he's pulling away from you and picking up your phone. "Where do we start?"

It wasn't the first time you had baked instead of sleeping, and it certainly wasn't the first time Spencer had woken up to the sound of your hand mixer combining sugar and butter, or the oven timer dinging to accompany the smell of freshly baked muffins. In fact, he had become accustomed to not getting through an entire fortnight without at least one tray of baked goods taking up counter space. 

It was the first time he had offered to help you, though. He either accompanied you and watched you bake, or sat at his desk to get paperwork done (he said he should use the extra time spent conscious wisely). 

"You don't have to help," you're shaking your head, but he's already going to the sink to wash his hands. 

"You only slept for two hours before waking up to do this. I'd like to get you back to bed sooner rather than later," he answers, patting his hands dry. "I won't sleep until you do, anyways."

"Okay," you relent, staring at him almost stunned, before you return to the recipe you had up on your phone. "Um... could you combine the sugar and butter?"

Baking with Spencer Reid seemed to make everything a lot easier. Ignoring the obvious (the help an extra set of hands provided), his eidetic memory meant you could throw a step his way, and he'd know exactly what he was doing. Having asked him to add the eggs to his sugar and butter mix, he was already separating the yolk from the whites before you needed to say a thing.

"Have you ever stuck your hand into flour?" you ask him, and he lifts his head, eyebrows frowning together. 

"No. Why would I do that?"

"To know what it feels like," you say, dryly, though there isn't any malice behind it. "Have you never wanted to know what it feels like?"

"You can use context clues to figure out what it would feel like," he replies. "Correct?" 

"Spencer, you're entirely missing the point," you shake your head, and though he lifts his head from his sugar-butter-and-egg mixture to question you, he doesn't even remotely expect a large fistful of flour to explode across his chest. 

Then, you're laughing, and he's still battling with the initial shock of your flour attack for a few more seconds to laugh with you. But, when he does, he's almost mocking with it, and your face falls when he's putting his own hand into the container labelled flour, lifting it, and dragging his hand over your stomach. 

"Oh my God!" you say through a laugh, looking down at the smear of flour on your t-shirt. "Spencer!"

"Reap what you can sow," he retorts. 

So, you do.

You aren't too sure when the flour fighting gets more intimate. Somewhere between your fingers running it through his hair, and his hands landing on your ass, as he tugs you into him.

You're heaving, though the smile on your face is perfect, and he's certain he might be falling in love with you all over again. Cheeks stained in flour and all. 

"Hello," you sing, lifting your chin up to smile at him.

"Hi, sweet girl," he replies, ducking his head down to brush his lips against yours, and you pull a face at the faint taste of flour on them. 

Your finger lifts up to brush his lower lip, face growing concentrated as you brush the powder off it. "You've got a little... something..." 

"Do I?" he asks, condescendingly, and you're firmly nodding your head. 

"Yep. This is why I bake alone, Spencer Reid," you tut. 

His eyebrows raise. "I don't know if I want to even try to prove you wrong."

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Duly noted. Anything you do recommend?"

You pause. "Kissing me might help in my journey of forgiving you for this mess."

If he's got any plan to defend himself, it crumbles beneath the words of your request, and his lips are stretching into a smile. 

"I'll do whatever I can."

His lips have a film on them from the brushed away flour, making them softer than they usually are, as he presses them against yours. Hands that were once resting almost teasingly on your ass lift to your hips, and your own drop to the countertop behind him as you lean into him.

As you usually feel in your slow moments like this with him, you feel your heart soar, your head tilting to the side as you accomodate his face being so close to your own. 

Arguably, his favourite thing about kissing you for longer than half a second, is the mewls and hums that leave your lips. Never too much to prompt anything more, but instead just enough to tell him just how much you enjoy kissing him. A feeling that is entirely mutual.

As soon as it starts, it's over. Which can't really be true, for you are panting when his head pulls away from yours,  and he's got that glassy look in his eyes that always makes your body warm. 

"We need to go shower," he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. 

You want to decline, just to stay standing right there in the kitchen with him, the urge to keep kissing him almost overwhelming. But his fingers have lifted to brush against a patch of flour on your neck, and you're surrendering at the feeling. 

"Okay."

Thus, forty-five minutes and one unreasonably long shower later, you were standing back in the kitchen, a bowl with cinnamon and sugar in front of you. Spencer's t-shirt hanging off your body — after you had expertly coerced him into letting you wear it — and a fork in your hands as you whisk the two toppings together. 

He's sitting on a stool on the other side of the bench, stirring the dough together after you had complained it was too thick. He argued it was supposed to be. 

Heading over to Spencer once the cinnamon and sugar was combined in a bowl, you mumble, "Okay. 'm tired," your head buried into the crook of his neck. 

"Yeah, weaponising that flour probably exhausted some energy," he muses, letting go of the wooden spoon to wrap his arms around you. "We still need to bake these, though."

"Cookie dough is yummy too," you retort, hand reaching out to pinch a piece of the dough. 

"Cookie dough isn't safe for you to eat," he answers, catching your wrist before you can get ahold of any batter. Upon seeing your pout, combined with the tired look in your eyes, he relents, letting you pick up a small piece just to eat. "How about we put this in the fridge, and we bake them tomorrow?" 

"I like that plan."

"I thought you would."

Helping him with the clean up consisted of you putting the dough in the fridge and cinnamon sugar in the pantry, and him doing... everything else. He didn't seem to mind, though, and his hands found their place on your waist as he walked you back towards the bedroom. 

"C'mon, sleepy girl."

He laughs at your incoherent grumble towards the name calling, letting you drag him back into the bed adorned with wrinkled sheets. 

"Thanks for baking with me," you say, voice layered with your exhaustion as you're curling up next to him. 

"Thanks for attacking me with flour."

"And I'd do it again."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[intimidating-fettuccine]

I’m so excited because I got out of class early and I had time to make sure this ask was ready to go

Let me know if this doesn’t quite make sense, and I’ll try to clarify, but:

—

Jeff seeing/knowing his s/o died in a fight, but seeing them alive and well two years later, obvious they had been alive those two years, but they have no memory of him or any of the time they spent with Jeff. Bonus sad points if they were married or had some sort of matching thing so s/o KNOWS something was up with the two of them, but they don’t remember.

—

Feel free to use this prompt for anyone else you wanna write for :D

I hope you enjoy! This got super extremely long because I was feeling inspired ^^' I hope you're fine with the direction I took this in :)

It destroyed him. Watching you die that day was the most difficult thing he's ever had to cope with in his entire life, and he still struggles to cope with it some days even two years later. He's spent so long mourning your loss, that when he sees you walking around one day he thinks it must be a hallucination or someone that just looks far too similar to you, and he continues on his way. At least, until he hears that incredibly familiar laugh he first fell in love with all those years ago, and he's whipping back around, eyes locked on you as you converse with the unfamiliar person at your side. His feet move immediately, pushing him forward, but at the same time, you happen to drop something. He picks it up for you and hands it to you, and his eyes land on the ring decorating your finger, the one that matches the one on his hand, the custom-made promise rings the two of you had. You accept the item you dropped without complaint, your eyes also noticing the ring on his finger, but before he can say anything you just thank him and walk away.

He's so shocked by it that he just stands there for what feels like hours, before making a beeline back to the mansion. With Slender and BEN's investigative assistance, Jeff learns you didn't die that day, and he also learns that you have no memories of your time before then. You're still in the Underworld, still wandering around and joyful as ever, but you have no memory of him at all, and that thought alone is destroying Jeff all over again. The years you'd spent together, your promises of being together forever, all of your plans for the future, vanished. He finds himself entering an existential state of limbo in the coming weeks, not sure if he should try to find you and reconnect, or if he should just let you carry on your new life as you presently are. In the end, he decides to let you go. With all of his trauma and issues, with all of the struggles you both experienced gone from your memory, he feels as though it would be unfair to force you to learn how to love him and care for him again. You, however, have a completely different plan than Jeff.

It was eating you alive, the ring he was wearing on his finger, the familiarity in his eyes, the disappointment at your swift exit. You had to learn who he was, and how he was connected to you, you finally had a clue to your life before your amnesia and you weren't going to let it pass. It wasn't hard for you to track him down, with how well known he is in the Underworld and the fact that everyone knows he works for Slender, but you also spent time waiting and wondering what you should do. Eventually, you decided on it; you were just going to have to force him to talk to you. So, there you stood, anxiously on the front porch of a mansion that seemed far too familiar for you having no memory of it, and upon the door opening, a group of faces greeting you that were also far too familiar. Slender calls Jeff down and tells him he has a guest waiting outside, and when he comes out to see you, he feels his world halting once again. You both sit on the front porch in silence for quite a while, but you break the ice first, asking him who he is, and why he has your ring. You have a feeling you already know the answer, and when he looks at you in misery, tears flooding his eyes, you know you were right, without him even having to confirm it verbally.

Jeff explains it all to you, everything. How you met, when you started dating, what your relationship was like, all of your plans for the future together, the significance of the rings he had made for you, and most importantly, the day he thought you died. It's a shock to you, of course it is, but bits and pieces of things he says, you can catch small glimpses of them in your lost memories. A night under the stars, mornings spent waking up together, an exchanging of rings. You can catch small glimpses of him, but it feels so far away. It is, however, enough for you to believe him. It feels right, sitting beside him on the steps. It feels warm, and comforting, like you belong there beside him, and when you shyly move your leg to press against his it feels so oddly familiar and correct that you find yourself being moved to tears. He tells you he didn't want to trouble you, didn't want to make you have to deal with his fucked up life and issues all over again, he thought it would be cruel, and you can only smile at him through the tears.

You tell him you have a feeling the you that he knew would be upset at him for even insisting that, and he laughs, saying that you're probably right. Neither of you makes a move to leave, to end your reminiscing as he continues telling you stories, and both of you are okay with that. It's you who finally asks the question weighing on both of you. If you can try again. If you can try from the beginning, try to love him again and become a part of his life again. He smiles a smile that has your heart racing and cheeks growing warm, and lifts your hand, saying he gave you this ring along with a promise to stay by your side for the rest of your life, no matter what. He kisses the ring on your finger, and the brush of his lips makes you long for more. He agrees easily to start over, saying he'll never give up on you, but he can't help the chuckle that follows as he simply requests that you not disappear again, and there on that front porch you make your second eternal promise to each other, that this time you'll protect each other, and stay together no matter what. A promise you both successfully keep, to the end of your lives.

[iloveelvisss]

"Oh, don't stop on our account."

Prompt writing!! I found a prompt list on Pinterest, and I wanted to try one of them. Lmk if you like it and want more prompts, oh and give me prompts if you want!! Xoxo, your author <3

Arguing. That's what you and Elvis were doing, and the best part? You had both forgotten that you had company, and said company just so happened to be the author doing a book on your marriage.

"I oughtta wring yer neck, woman! Stop accusin' me of shit that ain't true! It ain't an affair if ya knew the whole time!"

"Oh?! Is that right?! Ya think that I was just happy as can be that my husband was fuckin' his backup singer?! I only knew 'cause she thought I wanted to leave ya!" You were far beyond shouting, so it was more properly full on fighting— not just arguing.

The author looked back and forth between the couple in front of her, eagerly listening to everything that spouted from your mouths. The King and his sweet lil' Queen weren't as perfect as the press made it seem.

All she had asked was what your thoughts were on all the traveling Elvis had to do for his career, and she unknowingly sparked a dorment flame within you. Memories of the phone call that you accidentally answered that day— Kathy Westmoreland's innocent voice telling you thank you for letting her experience Elvis' love too. Poor woman had no clue you were in the dark— she was in the dark too. And when you confronted the man himself, he said he forgot to mention he was seeing someone like every other time.

"Baby, I didn't plan on keepin' it from ya like that! And it ain't my fault she made her own assumptions! I never told her we weren't happy, she just thought we weren't!" Elvis tries, and fails, to grab your flailing hand. You yank it away and smack his hand away from you.

You run your hand through your hair, messing it up. "The fact that ya let her assume that is just as bad! I would've let ya pursue her if ya had just asked! I would've happily told her how I felt if ya had just let me know ya had another gal! I ain't one to judge ya for yer adventures, Elvis, ya know that! But being lied to hurt me!"

"And I said I was sorry, Satnin! That should be the end of it!"

Your eyes snap up to his immediately, the anger absolutely radiating off of you in waves that could rival the ocean. "End of it, huh?! I couldn't'a said it better! I'll serve ya the papers as soon as I can!"

You turn and get three steps to the arched threshold of the living room before you're yanked back. Your face flies into his chest before he grabs it and holds you steady.

"Now you listen here, woman, and listen good. I. Am. Sorry. But, so help me, if ya ever threaten me like that again, ya won't walk for weeks. I'll tan yer hide somethin' nasty, y'hear?" He lowers his head so that he's eye level with you, and his voice evens out to an almost scary calm.

And then it seems to hit both of you, your heads slowly turning to the one-woman audience. The look on her face makes you think all she needs is a coke and a popcorn, and she'd be all set.

You go to apologize or say literally anything to save you and your husband from the hole you've so obviously dug for yourselves, but she raises a hand and stops you. Her response shocks you, "Oh, please, don't stop on my account."

And the smirk that accompanies her statement is simultaneously friendly and wicked.

You can't help but feel as though the book that is due to come out in a year will have a chapter documenting this... interesting insight into the lives of the world's power couple. It makes you wince in premeditated embarrassment. And yet Elvis just laughs— a hearty laugh, and it only enables you, and soon all three of you are giggling like children.

I know it’s super short, sorry! But I liked it, and wanted to get it out before I started hating it. Please either comment or leave requests in my inbox if you want!! I’d like to do more prompts or even just requests for regular fics. Love all of you, my lovies!!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 273

You know what? We need more Good parents Fentons. 

And you know what else? Technically, Jack helped Danny defeat Pariah via the use of the Ecto-Skeleton. And like, that’s his son, his baby boy. Sure Danny is and has always been a mommy’s boy, but it doesn’t change that fact. They’re both already feeling horrible about the fact they could have hurt him, they could have hurt their son- they have hurt their son, killed him with their inaction and never again. 

So when these oversized jello-eyeballs try to insist that their baby, their precious baby boy, take a crown? Become a king when he’s not even out of highschool, when he doesn’t want it? No. Hell no! That is his Danny-o, his baby boy who was terrified of his own parents! 

Which is how Jack, despite technically still being alive even if so-very ecto-contaminated, became the Ghost King. 

And for some reason there’s several ghosts rather happy about this- oh, these are his Danny-O’s ghost-parents? Not-ghost parents seeing as some of them have never been anything but a realm denizen? That’s really fascinating- y’know what, want some fudge and we can exchange childcare- Maddie dear come over and meet our co-parents apparently!  

Now it’s not all easy, but they’re trying their best, and that’s all that can be asked. 

…

Which is perhaps why it’s so exasperating- or as Maddie would put it, downright infuriating- that it is now, almost an entire year and a half later that the Heroes finally arrive to investigate. Well, at least he has plenty of fudge since it’s almost time for the council meeting. 

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #94

Danny falls through a portal to the DC world from a natural portal that opened up while he was in mid fight with Skulker a fight that began at Vlads where the creep put a collar on Danny that kept him in ghost form, Vlad thought he’d force Danny to reveal his secret to his parents by taking away his human form. Looking around he’s in a dark city with dark smog colored skies. Unfortunately he’s stuck here as the portal closed leaving him trapped. He tried to find help but no one can see him in his ghost form. He starts tailing the vigilantes of this world and eventually follows one onto this space station through this tube (possessing inanimate objects sure comes in handy). He wasn’t expecting for the random British guy in a trench coat to see him.

[writingdevil]

Voyage [Hermittober24 Day Ten]

(Prompt list created by @collierose1 )

Pearl woke up,and stars greeted her.

She smiled out at the inky void,leaning back and letting herself float along to Season Nine.

Pearl has witnessed and took part in many extraordinary things,but there was nothing like a voyage into the unknown,that could really put her soul at ease.

She glanced back,and could only try and guess the direction that they had come from,and waved back at Season Eight and all its perfect memories.

She knew that most people would be freaking out if they were left to aimlessly float through space, when their last home got destroyed due to the moon crashing into it,but Pearl feels like she's had time to come to terms with it.Not that she knew how much time had passed.

She looked around at her fellow Hermits,who were all still asleep,their individual helmets giving their faces a funny hue,that looked like colourful lightbulbs next to the background of space.

They all looked so peaceful.

She tilted her head back,as much as she could with the cord attaching the five of them,her helmet almost touching her back,as she was met with the glittery expanse of darkness behind her.

It may seem obvious given her name,but Pearl truly adored the moon and space,and all its surprises it could bring.Whenever she felt restless,she wouldn't hesitate to fly through the night sky,imagining that each star was an audience member,and she was performing for them.

Other times,she would just stop whatever she was doing in that moment and stare up at the moon, even before they noticed it was bigger.Pearl would just gaze up at the sky,and suddenly feel all her stress leave her body.

Pearl didn't think she was even that scared when the moon was about to destroy the server.A part of her actually wanted to try and touch the moon.

But her heart decided against it,figuring that Boatem was more important to her.

She kicked her feet out,but felt nothing.She tapped her fingers against her helmet,but that did nothing. She looked to her left and right-nothing,nothing, nothing.

She felt something pressing down on her chest.

It wasn't that Pearl was getting uneasy-no,no that wasn't the case.

It was just a lot for her first season on Hermitcraft.

Did they take voyages through the void of space often?

Pearl looked down at her boots,but instead of ground,there was just more space,and it was beginning to feel less like she was floating,and more like she was being suspended in the void, waiting for the moment that they would drop and be swallowed by the darkness.

You could never know for certain what was in the shadows.You could never know what was waiting to bite you.

Suddenly,she could feel her breathing picking up,as she tried to look at anywhere other than the void, because now it didn't feel like a journey to the next destination anymore.Now it just felt like the end, and they would be lost forever.

But before she could spiral further,she felt something brush against her back,and she flinched,before she realised that it was one of Grian wings grazing her.

She looked over at him,at his mostly peaceful face, but with his brows furrowed slightly in annoyance or discomfort.

She thought the touch had been an accident,until there was another ruffle of his wings and she realised that he was tugging her closer.

Her panic froze,and she let herself float closer to the rest of Boatem,and when had she floated away from them?

She gazed at each of their faces,at how terrified they were in those final moments,and how calm they looked now,floating through the void with each other.

Pearl then remembered the laughter.

The Boatem Pole.

The meetings.

The pranks.

Then she concluded that-it had been fun.It had been more than fun.It had been beautiful,getting to know such fun and talented people,and to spend the rest of eternity on this voyage with them.

For her first season,it had been pretty amazing.

So Pearl closed her eyes again,and went back to sleep.

[optiwashere]

Much as I adore Asheera/Shadowheart I’m gonna also throw my hat in for the Moon Lesbians and say A6 for Aylin x Isobel 🌙

No worries, I expected this if you were to send in a prompt. Thanks for requesting this one! 💜

---

A6. Gift giving (this turned out pretty goofy and borderline cracky)

"Aylin, it's quite thoughtful of you, but—"

"Is it not? The merchant I met betwixt this inn and the bazaar in the square remained adamant of the quality of his wares."

Isobel stared at the thin box of cosmetics in her hands. She opened the lid again to make sure she'd seen things correctly. Confirming the splotchy, dull colors in mismatched squares and array of thin brushes, she sealed it tight and looked back to Aylin.

Aylin smiled. Beamed, more like. Like most other things in her life, she took to gift giving as if it were the most important task laid on her shoulders. When Isobel was involved, the entire process became a vital quest rather than a pleasant thought.

"Is there with my gift a fault?" Aylin asked. "Why have you not tried donning it?"

"Aylin, as I said, this was so very thoughtful of you, but it's... it looks as if you've bought counterfeits," explained Isobel.

At that, Aylin's face turned to a grimace. "Swindled by one who would slip past my most righteous gaze?"

"Aylin, it's not that serious, I promise. You simply don't know anything about cosmetics."

"That is no excuse to abdicate my duty." Aylin stomped to the door of their room in the House of the Moon. "We must hie ourselves to the bazaar. There is yet another evil in this wretched city that must be punished."

"And we're the ones to stop it?"

"Of course, my darling," said Aylin matter-of-factly, turning to leave. "Who knows what may lurk beneath an operation such as this."

As Isobel followed her out into the hall, she wished she had said nothing but her thanks for the gift. Now, it seemed, Aylin decided to gift them both with yet another evening of searching every corner of the city for the faintest remaining traces of Sharran influence.

[greglow03]

Day 05.05. - VanWeek Art👱‍♀️

SUNRISE!!🌄 Hope you guys like it!! It's my only contribution to the VanWeek😔, but it was fun seeing others' creations!!😄

@vanweek2024

[yujeong]

For the micro story ask, how about number 7 (silent fury) for Pete? With your choice of other character/s <3

Ohhh, that's a good one, my friend, thank you so much ❤️ ----------------------- "Hey, P'Pete." "Hm?" "You used to do boxing, right?" "Ah... yes, why?" "What was your nickname?" "My... what?" "The name you'd been given as a fighter. Like how P'Porsche was called The Phoenix." "Well-" "Silent Fury." "Bro, you're not funny." "What? It suits him, doesn't it?" "It sounds stupid and you know it." "It does sound a little stupid, Vegas." "I only meant to emphasize your strengths, Pete." "You did a bad job." "Shut up, Macau." "Phi never answered the question. What was it?" "I... didn't have one." "You didn't? But why?" "No point for a fighter who's bad at his job." "Pete-" "No, I refuse to accept it. We're giving you one right now... Don't laugh, Phi, I'm being serious!" "Fine, Macau. Do whatever you want. But it can't be Silent Fury." "It suits you-" "Hia won't participate in the brainstorming. Only me and P'Pete." "Okay, that's it. No dinner for you." "Will I not get dinner either, Vegas?" "It depends, Pete. Are you going to behave?" "Ugh, never mind, I'm out of here. You started being gross again." "Food will be ready in an hour!" "You better have finished until then!" "No promises."

[twist-dg]

Linktober 2023 Day #26 - Overgrown

[dixidin]

[GORETOBER 23]

!!Slight blood!!

First one to get the reference of the pose gets a gold star

If you repost this on another website, please give credit. Do not put my art in any ai or repost it as your own work. You are free to use this as a pfp as long as you credit. Any like or rebblog is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! -dixidin

[boganovault]

Batober day 24: Clarity

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 19-- Barbie

“You'll love it,” you promise, settling onto the couch beside Saeran with a piping-hot bag of microwave popcorn in your hands. “I forgot I had all these DVDs.”

Somehow, you came across a box of DVDs from your childhood over the weekend, and, for whatever reason, you offered to share them with Saeran. He doesn't get it, but if you want him to sit there with you and watch children's movies, he isn't going to complain about it. Saeyoung is away from the bunker for the evening at some sort of cosplay convention, so it's just the two of you and that robot cat, which has established itself on your lap like a real animal.

“Hm,” Saeran eyes the title screen suspiciously. “Princess and the Pauper?”

“It was my favorite Barbie movie when I was a kid,” you explain, “I thought it would be a good place to start our marathon.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, Saeran isn't particularly interested in the concept of the film by itself— is it actually going to be about dolls? That doesn't make much sense, considering the title, but why else would the movie be called “Barbie?”— but he enjoys spending time with you, and he knows it means a lot to you to share this with him.

“It's about this princess,” you explain, rather than just letting the movie play. Of course, this evening isn't really about the movie itself— the film is just a way for you and Saeran to get closer, right? You're sharing something with him, and although he's not sure how to navigate it, he's not opposed to passing the time this way. “And then this, uh, seamstress? I think? And despite the fact that they do not look remotely similar, they're supposed to look exactly alike? And then they switch places. I don't remember what they learn, but I guess they have to learn something, right? And then I think there's a scene where they go on the run, and they pass a restaurant, and they think about eating chicken? But that might be another Barbie movie, now that I think about it.”

“There's more than one?” Saeran wrinkles his nose as you finally press the play button, allowing the movie's opening song to begin. “Is it about dolls?” He may as well ask. Though he's still embarrassed to have so many questions about the world around him, you always take his inquiries seriously and answer as best you can.

“Yes,” you reply, “Well... no. Um, so... the dolls have characters, right, like Barbie and Kelly and whatnot?” Saeran has no idea what you're talking about, but he nods anyway. “And then in the movies, those characters are playing completely separate characters. It's pretty meta. At least, I think that's how it works? But the last time I watched a Barbie movie, I was, like, eight? Anyway, they're pretty funny, from what I remember. Mostly, they just take classic stories and add in weird animals, like the weasel from Rapunzel and that blue guy from Fairytopia, which is either supposed to be a utopia or a dystopia, I can't remember.”

Saeran looks at you blankly. He has no idea what you're talking about, but strangely, he doesn't mind. Your constant chattering is oddly comforting, now that he's gotten used to your presence. You’re always eager to explain things for which he has no context, even if your explanations often leave him with even more questions than he had to begin with. “Let's just watch the movie,” he decides eventually. 

“Okay,” you grin, like you're overjoyed to be spending time with him. Saeran can't make any more sense of that than he can of the appeal of these old Barbie movies, but he won't press. “It's not really that confusing. I'm just bad at explaining things— you'll see once it starts.”

You’re quiet while the movie plays, though you do rest your head gently on Saeran’s shoulder. That’s another thing he likes about you— though you can certainly be loud when you want to, you also offer him these moments of peace, where no words are required. He doesn’t have to explain his feelings to you, and he doesn’t expect you to articulate yours for him. The two of you can just exist in the same space together for a few hours while a movie plays. It’s nice, Saeran thinks, being able to sit around watching TV. It’s not something he ever would have dreamed of at Magenta, that’s for sure, and even after leaving, he never would have expected his life to be anything like this. For what it's worth, the movie isn't half bad, though Saeran elects to keep that opinion to himself.

[tears-of-boredom]

day 3: unnecessarily complex fit

ii gotta be honest, they were originally gonna have two feet but then i couldn't figure out the perspective of their right one so i decided to just not draw it

[rex101111]

What about "petty", for Jack-O' and Raven?

Living forever has a few odd quirks to it that no one really tells you about. Mostly because no one has lived long enough to find out about them.

The obvious thing, that everyone can guess, that books are written about, is that you go a bit crazy, because the human brain is, full stop, not designed to exist in perpetuity for any stretch of time beyond a century. You lose perspective on what is normal, food loses flavor, people stop being important and start to look like ways to pass the time.

But once that passes, when the mind reaches a point where it grows bored of insanity, for the human mind is capable of growing bored of anything given enough time, that's when the really kooky shit starts cropping up.

That's around the time you start sticking sharp objects in yourself to see what happens, that's when you dig a hole for yourself to sit in for a decade because you think worms are interesting.

After that, a switch flips in your brain, and you become a bit more unique. In the way that a deep sea fish is unique, not good or bad just so different that there exists no practical equivalent of you.

For Raven, that switch had something to do with how he prioritizes things. For someone immortal, priorities shift around pretty quickly. Food and shelter get shunted to the bottom of the list, and "ways to spend your time" get top billing.

He began to treasure the small, the fleeting, the petty and insignificant. Cobwebs floating on the breeze, leaves rotting on the ground. A child crying because a toy was broken until they get a quick comfort from their parent.

Things that don't matter on the grand scheme of the universe. He could afford to pay attention, now that the grand scheme had kicked him in the pants and told him to stay out of it.

Few people could really understand this, beyond those who dedicate their lives to deep meditation and the like. But even they only lasted so long, even they could only hold a conversation to a point to where a mortal and not-mortal mind diverged in thinking.

Jack-O was different. She was flighty, she was powerful, she had the fabric of reality in her grip and she played it with like cheap taffy. She was a being brought into the world for one, single, absolute purpose. She was a middle finger pointed at the bony face of death created by a man called a devil by his fellows for pretty fair reasons.

She was as petty as it came, she danced and laughed and ran off when it suited her. She had no value for her life because she realized that past a certain threshold it didn't have any value at all.

She asked him, airily and cheerfully, when he last had a normal conversation with someone. Anyone.

And fuck him if he couldn't give her an answer. A conversation. About the weather or what he had for lunch. Something petty and simple and easy that was forgotten as soon as two people parted ways. She asked him about something so petty even he didn't give it any thought. He wanted to laugh. He felt like crying.

Asuka was his friend, after a fashion. They had collaborated on a mighty endeavor, and they had conversations about the math that held the universe glued together. But theirs was a path that would soon diverge.

Jack-O was, despite her friendliness, was not his friend. She was his responsibility, his charge. A petty girl who asked him about when he last had a conversation with someone.

She was born to die. Well, everyone was born for that, eventually. But hers was not some hazy date somewhere on the horizon, her death was a set thing, a concrete thing. A thing she was built around.

She would reach out across the void and drag back Aria Hale to the living world, and burn herself to nothing in the process. There was no delusion, no tomato in the mirror to slap reality in her face. She shrugged her shoulders and went on her way. Smiling.

She was petty and small and finite. She would be gone very, very soon. And Raven would, as always, remain.

Raven will miss her.

Miss her more than anyone else, he thinks.

[queennightingale]

Dc x Dp Prompt

Is my classmate a secret love child of a rouge?!?!

Tim drake knew he was odd, with dark circles blacker than black holes, and skin as pale as Elsa’s, but some how this kid made him perplexed.

Danny Fenton was a genuine mystery. The first time he met the boy, was in the police department, asleep on one of the couches. He was waiting to be questioned about a mugging (because he was NOT a gothamite and actually went to the police about it) and fell asleep, and Tim was alarmed when he touched the boy’s paper- white skin and it was ICE COLD. Like- Tim probably would have been stuck to the ice if it was actually there, kind of cold. Yet, the boy was alive. His slow, too slow to be normal, breathing proved that.

Tim met him a second time in a college class, which they apparently shared? He was wide wake, with 3 cans of Red Bull and 2 cans of monster, and SOMEHOW Alive. How does someone genuinely do that? Then, he mentioned something about his parents during a group project.

“Yeah, my parents lab had ‘safety suggestions’ but they never followed them. Honestly it’s a miracle I’m still here.” He said. Then, as he thought no one was looking, but TIM WAS LOOKING, he accidentally froze his drink.

Tim froze up.

Mr Freeze has a son?!

___

Tim slammed the door open to the batcave, where the whole family was, and shouted “FREEZE HAS A KID?!?

(No, he doesn’t. Danny has NO CLUE what is happening, or why Tim Drake is so inquisitive, but he didn’t care. Gotham was full of weirdos, including himself. Tim is having a mental crisis that is not nessesary. Freeze is wondering why the hell the bats are talking about a kid. He doesn’t HAVE a kid. )