#he is not well in the head but no therapy for him

[starsfic]

I hope you don't mind-

-_-

Everything was ready to go.

Princess Elise had been more than happy to donate her castle, allowing the Great Hall to be decorated in white, purple, blue, and red. Music tinkled as the rising sun caught the stained glass windows, sending rainbow light twirling.

The seated guests watched as the wedding party walked down the aisle together, taking up each side of the dias. After that, Omega served as the flower robot, sending latana petals dancing in the air. The ring girl Cream happily skipped behind, clenching the little pillow proudly.

In the front row, Vanilla and Aleena sobbed happily into a handkerchief together. Chuck patted the latter's shoulder, letting his tears simply flow. Next to them were two empty seats, bearing the portraits of Maria and Gerald Robotnik. Next to them, Stone sobbed into his own handkerchief amd occasionally hugging Sage. Ivo sat next to him, looking rather dazed. According to rumor, he had been practically comatose since the wedding had been announced. Still, several troops were stationed at the corners of the hall, ready to leap into action if any evil plot was unleashed.

The music stopped when the officiant, Amy Rose, stood at the podium. “Everyone,” she said.

“You ready for this?”

“You know I am.”

“I am happy to welcome in our loving couple…”

“Before we head out there…I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Sonic and Shadow!”

Gasps and cheers echoed through the hall as the soon-to-be-wed couple stepped out. Sonic looked dashing in a dark suit, while Shadow looked breathtaking in a white gown, with his red quills practically popping under the glittering veil. Sonic offered his arm and Shadow adjusted his hold on the latana and lavender bouquet before taking his arm. The music swelled triumphantly as the two began to walk down the aisle.

Honestly, both were surprised that they had ever gotten to this point. It had been a long journey of battles, blood, sweat, tears and therapy. Today was a victory, and they couldn't imagine it without each other.

The music once again died down when they reached the stage. Amy beamed at both of them before clearing her throat.

“My friends and family, we are honored to be gathered here to celebrate the union of two people we love so deeply. Today, they have decided to start a new life together, ushered in by those who love them the most.” A cheer rang out. “So, I shall keep it simple. Sonic and Shadow, do you swear to stay by each other's sides, no matter how rough things will get?”

“We do.”

“Do you promise to stay true and devoted to each other?”

“We do.”

“Do you swear that you will always love each other to the end of your days?”

Shadow reached out and squeezed Sonic's hand. Sonic squeezed back, guessing that he was thinking of his immortality. Despite that, Shadow’s voice was steady when they said “We do.”

Amy nodded and then took a breath. “If anyone has any objections, please speak now.”

All heads turned towards the only person who could possibly object. Ivo Robotnik stared blankly at the wall. As soon as the wedding was done, Sonic would be Sonic Robotnik. And, after he finished up his master's in archeology, he would be Dr. Robotnik. It would make sense for Ivo to reject such a nightmarish scenario.

A minute passed.

Two.

Three.

“Well then!” Amy said, and it was like a sigh of relief passed through the hall. “I now pronounce you husband and-”

CRACK!

Panic spread through the church at the sight of a red and black portal forming right in front of the couple. “It can't be-!” Shadow gasped, dropping the bouquet, as Sonic moved in front of him, protectively keeping himself between his almost husband and the monster. He knew Shadow could protect himself, of course, but-

Black Doom made even the strongest warriors terrified.

The supposedly dead alien warlord hovered in the air, his eyes tight as shimmering waves of rage came off him.

“I OBJECT TO THIS MARRIAGE.”

Without another word, he reached out. Shadow tensed, preparing to be grabbed. He would bite the hell out of Doom before letting himself get taken! He was wound up, ready to be the worst prisoner ever-

Which meant when Sonic was yanked off his feet and dragged through the portal, all Shadow could do was reach for him.

The portal closed, leaving the hall silent.

“NOOOOOOOOO-!”

A few turned to stare at Ivo as he stood straight up, screaming, but the wedding party's eyes were on him.

“Shadow?” Amy said, her voice thick with tears. “Are you okay?”

“Towers!” Rouge barked. “Where's the Black Comet?!”

“We need to get Sonic!” Tails said, looking ready to tear off his tuxedo.

Shadow agreed with everything except the tuxedo.

He smoothed his hands down his skirt. When Vanilla, the closest thing he had to a mother figure, offered to make his dream wedding dress, the one he picked out with Maria, he had one request.

There. Two pockets.

He yanked out the guns and began to march down the aisle.

“Wait, where did you get those-?”

“Oh, Black Doom, you chose the wrong day.”

Hopefully, most of the dress survived.

sonadow wedding🎉🎉🎊✨✨

I also made a mini comic😝

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 13: dinner and a movie?

🔹🔹🔹

“Hello.” an unknown voice calls out to you from the library doorway, you quickly turn and spot a redhead in a wheelchair holding the door open with one arm.

“Hi there, are you one of the befores?”you watch as she wheels herself into the room, the door falling shut with a quiet thud as the carpet crunches softly beneath the wheels. “The befores?” She tilts her head, glasses slipping down her nose a bit before she nudges them back up.

“The people I apparently knew before the attack.”

She pauses at that, before nodding her head. “Yeah, I'm a before. I'm Barbara Gordon, nice to meet you again. Please call me Barb.” She holds her hand out for a handshake which you give, her hold unsurprisingly firm.

“Like wise, I'd introduce myself but that'd be foolish.” You drop down on the couch behind you after the introduction, lightly wincing for a moment. “Funny, are you in pain?” she puts the brakes on her wheelchair beside the couch and pulls a lemonade out, watching you curiously through her lashes.

You shrug before answering, she likes to stare you note. “Physical therapy is a bitch.” You also fell on your side earlier while trying to hold a plank, but that's for you alone to know.

She snorts at that, “oh, trust me I know exactly how much of a bitch it is.” She mutters under her breath, when you glance at her with furrowed brows she elaborates. “Spinal injury, long story.” You nod your head with a small wince, you've had enough of those types of injuries in your life.

“noted, well Miss Barb can I ask what you're here for? Not to be rude, I just don't remember much yet.” You go straight for the point, she seems relaxed but you don't miss how she watches your every move, head quickly turning towards you when you reach for the book you'd been reading when she came in. She's on edge around you.

“Dick invited me over for the movie.” She says casually before taking a loud sip of her drink, the memory of the overly touchy young man nearly makes you roll your eyes, of course he's here-wait… “what movie?” Barb smiles something devious, looking amused with herself for a moment before replying.

“oops, guess Bruce didn't tell you yet. Just between you and me he wants everyone to have dinner and watch movies with him in the cinema room, you included.”

….. What? You give her an incredulous look at that revelation, her expression and body language showing she's serious. “…alright, is this something the family does often…?”

She nods, still looking amused at spilling the tea before anyone else could. She leans closer to whisper conspiratorially to you. “Mhmm, usually it's Duke or Alfred pushing it but I think your man wants an excuse to spend time with you. Just treat him like a boy with a crush, yeah?” “…okay?”

She pats your shoulder almost patronizingly before taking the brakes off and rolling herself towards the door, calling to you over her shoulder as she goes. “I'll see you in a bit, operater!” The door slams loudly behind her.

🔹🔹🔹

dinners awkward, as soon as you’d walked in barb gave you a knowing grin before turning back to her conversation with cass and an unknown blonde girl. the blonde, upon seeing you, hopped up out of her chair and approached you.

“howdy partner.” they winked and gave you finger guns, looking you up and down with exaggerated scrutiny while starting to circle you.

you watch them with confusion, you’re guessing they’re one of the kids friends…

“…hi, we’ve met i’m assuming….?” “yep! call me stephie!” they nod with a smile and loop their arm through yours and pulling you with her towards the table, sitting you between her and dick, great.

the rest of the dinner was spent between two very chatty young people, by the end you understand captain rogers complaints about slang.

you tried to slip away after dinner, you even had the perfect excuse too. you were tired after physical therapy and wanted to crash early, but then you were cornered by bruce of all people.

“….hey, are you busy?” his voice is soft as he approaches you, he leans against the wall with forced casualness and crosses his arms loosely.

you shift slightly as you glance down the hallway and then look back at him, “i was just heading to bed, why?” barbs words echo in your head as he rubs at the back of his neck, is he still nervous around you?

“me and the kids were dogpiling in the screenroom….you wanna come sit in for a bit?” he smiles at you, though you can tell it’s forced. you glance down the hall again, he could invite his affair partner if he wants someone cuddly. you open your mouth to reject the invite when he speaks up again. “you don’t have to watch a whole film, i just think it’d be good for you to be around loved ones right now. maybe you’ll remember something?….” that’s practically a beg, you’re surprised he’s not on his knees for you right now.

just say no, your attempts at blending in won’t suffer if you’re too tired to play dollhouse. “……a few minutes won’t hurt.” why did you agree. but before you can backtrack he exhales and grabs your wrist to lead you, you’re so fucked…

you’re lead through the large house until you reach some kind of home theater room, barb and the two girls are again talking on one of the couches while tim leans against the stephie girl, damian is sitting in the floor with a large dog curled up trying to pretend it’s a lapdog, and dick is watching jason and duke bicker over something in the center of the room.

when bruce drags you in all eyes turn to you, there’s a moment of silence where you’re just awkwardly staring at each other before bruce clears his throat and pulls you further in the room to one of the couches.

“what’s the verdict, who’s picking this time?” bruce glances around as he speaks, his eyes landing on a scowling duke and a smug jason. “i want to watch the godfather again.” duke cuts in before jason or anyone else can. “dude, that was your pick at halloween. we’re not watching it again.” jason rolls his eyes as he walks over to you. “it’s a great movie!” duke calls out defensively as he follows jason.

“how about we watch something more light tonight?” dick tries to mediate, damian scowls up at him from the floor. “no, i’d rather watch the godfather again than sit through one of your disney movies.” dick looks offended at damian’s scoffing retort.

bruce sighs as the bickering morphs before your eyes, “come on let’s play nice, i thought you all had something picked out already?” “i just wanted to watch lord of the rings.” jason crosses his arms as he speaks, stephie rolls her eyes and speaks up from her spot on one of the couches. “you can’t just watch one of those though, we’re not sitting here for nine hours jay.” “you wanted to watch the barbie movie collection at christmas shut your mouth about long movie runs stephanie.”

you drop your head back against the couch while they bicker, bruce slowly sits down next to you at a respectful distance and drapes a blanket over your lap. it feels like he’s trying to keep you there. barb looks over at you with an amused smirk on her face, pointedly glancing between you two before turning back to her conversation.

“enough fighting guys, just pick something please.” bruce pinches his brow, clearly fed up. no wonder he’s going grey.

“how about we let master wayne decide? they should feel included yes?” a voice speaks up behind you all, alfred walking in the room with a sly look in his eyes. you bet he knows you don’t want to be here, he looks too smug as he sets down a tray of snacks and drinks.

the kids all exchange glances and turn to look at you, bruce shifts beside you and turns his head to speak quietly to you. “you don’t have to answer, i know you don’t know any of these movies so i can just pull rank on the kids.” you turn your head to also speak quietly, “it’s fine, i’ll manage somehow.” you glance at duke. “let’s watch the godfather.” you speak loud enough to be heard over the quiet bickering still happening.

duke throws his hands up in victory, “yes! suck it jay.” he quickly dodges the tossed pillow and goes to fiddle with the projector, looks like you’re resigned to sit here for a few hours.

🔹🔹🔹

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Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444

[gingerteafairy]

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

Somethings drag on for too long.

tags n warnings: carmy berzatto x reader, language, longtime friends, suggestive, slow burn past. word count: 2.4k masterlist

Everyone knew Carmy was a little bossy. Well, it was part of his job. Maybe he didn’t like giving orders, especially when they often ended with someone yelling or feeling desperate. However, your relationship with him seemed too close to be labeled as authoritarian abuse, free therapy sessions, or toxic interactions. Damn, you had known him for so long. You’d gone through so many seasons together—trends, wines, changes. Everything seemed to evolve except for the complex dynamic between you and Carmen Berzatto.

“That’s wrong.” Carmy’s voice cut through the kitchen noise, as if he could telepathically sense you skimping on a few sealing seconds out of sheer laziness.

“I know,” you replied without looking, reigniting the flame and moving forward. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be good enough.

"God, Carm,” Marcus grumbled, drying his hands to return to his station beside the chef. "Chill."

“She knows how I am,” was all Carmy needed to say, putting a quiet end to the conversation. Each of you returned to your tasks. "She has known me for a long time. Knows how i work."

“Hands!” you called, plating the dish in the designated container. Everything was just as perfect as Carmy had wanted.

“Chef, can you grab my knife from the other station, please?” Carmy asked, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m only doing this because I love you,” you teased.

You smiled as light as a feather, heading to the sink to wash your hands before fetching what he needed. The air in the kitchen thickened—though perhaps it was floating rather than heavy—because everyone could see the shared sweetness in the smiles you and Carm exchanged over that dish he was finishing with Marcus.

Handing him the knife, your fingers lingered on his for just a second longer than necessary. You could feel the sugary tension in the air, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips as you returned to your station. Maybe you had known Carm for too long to change anything now.

Carmen found himself watching your back, like he was trying to figure out what expression you were wearing without having to ask. He knew you were focused. The little curve of your lips when things didn’t turn out how you wanted. The way your brows knit together before you relaxed, remembering how frowning could cause wrinkles. He even pictured you mentally griping about your oily skin and how no cream ever seemed to help. The worst part? He was dead-on. And like you, he felt like he’d known you too long to want anything to change.

You could feel his eyes on you. Your cheeks warmed—not from the kitchen’s heat, but from the sparks in Carmy’s blue eyes. You knew his tells: how he scratched his nose when he was nervous, or how Marcus teased him for staring at you too long for just a boss.

Everybody knew. You both knew.

This unspoken game always made time fly. Maybe just the idea of being close to Carmy was more addicting than the idea of actually being with him. Fear of rejection? Probably. Mostly from him.

As the shift wound down, he quietly set a small slice of pie on your workstation and slipped off to check something in the fridge. His shoulder brushed yours as he passed—so subtle, but deliberate.

You found yourself smiling as you packed up and finally rewarded your taste buds with another one of his masterpieces. You’d wanted to go to Copenhagen with him. Not just for the work. You wanted to share those nights on that tiny boat. To bump into him while moving around, bicker over who got the bathroom first, and watch each other over morning coffee.

You took your time with every bite, savoring each piece like it was gold. In the fridge, Carmen lingered. He tried cooling his body, his mind—maybe his whole life. He worried the pie had come out too dense. He didn’t realize he’d been gone too long until the silence got heavy, and he timidly twisted the lock.

You were still there, pie half-finished.

Damn. Too dense. His chest tightened at your slow chewing, not realizing it was for the opposite reason—it was light as air, like the curls brushing his forehead. You just wanted to savor every second.

“Hey, you wanna head out?” His voice was soft as he scratched the back of his head. He often drove you home after work, but tonight it felt… different.

“Sure.” You took another bite, speeding up to finish. Not a crumb left behind.

“Where to?” He cleared his throat and rubbed his nose. Definitely nervous. That was rare for Carmy. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him this jittery around you.

“I’ll go wherever you go.” You pulled off your apron, stepping toward the lockers.

“Cool. Follow me.”

“I will.”

It felt like a familiar song—something you’d heard a hundred times but never got sick of. Carmy followed you, your lockers side by side. You bent to grab your bag, and his stubborn gaze followed before he quickly looked away as you stood. You both exchanged smiles before heading to his car.

He’d driven you countless times, yet it always felt new to him. You climbed in, and he started the engine. The destination felt as unclear as it did certain—a pull leading you both somewhere.

“There,” you pointed toward a park. He nodded.

It wasn’t too dangerous—people still strolled here at this hour. You gave a small, awkward smile, realizing couples often came here to kiss or lean on each other under the trees. But this was Carmy. What could you do?

He parked and turned off the engine. Neither of you moved. Realizing it, he switched on the heater and reluctantly turned to you. You’d already been looking at him for a while.

“How you doin’?” His voice broke the quiet. You paused, then turned toward him.

“Good. I think.” You didn’t want to overthink it. Life wasn’t bad—just… monotonous. “What about you?”

“Good.” He shifted in his seat, hands gripping the wheel. Then he exhaled. “Actually, no. I’m good, but I’m nervous. I’m always so fucking… wired.”

“Same.” You sighed heavily. “You still in therapy?”

“Yeah… Actually, AA. I told you.”

“That’s right. Sorry, I forgot.” You unbuckled to sit more comfortably. He did the same, resting his hands in his lap. You pulled out your phone. “How are you today?”

The app showed a smiley face that changed with his input. Carmy chuckled, sliding the bar to neutral. Neither positive nor negative. But when he looked at you again, he changed it to a smile. "Good day."

“Where’d you get that?”

“Found it when I was feelin’ pretty low and wanted to track it,” you explained, tucking your phone away. “You’d be surprised how many neutral faces are logged in there.”

“I wouldn’t be any different.” He let out a soft laugh. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with my future. Makes me anxious.”

“Same.” You laughed, though it felt more bittersweet.

Carmy’s phone buzzed. He checked it, shaking his head with a smile.

“What’s up?” You leaned in. He lowered his phone.

“Richie. Sending pictures of half-naked dudes and saying happy birthday. And it’s not even my birthday.”

“That’s your idea of ‘heavy’?” You teased as he put his phone away.

“Yeah… guess it’s not heavy.” His smile lingered as he ran a hand over his face, trying to smother the laugh bubbling up.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What do you think about dating?” Your heart wavered, but your voice stayed steady. Carmy clicked his tongue, seeming to chew over the question.

He scratched his head, sighing before answering. “I never got far enough to have an opinion. You know that.”

“I know.” You responded, feeling a little more awkward this time. “Have you had your first kiss?”

“Yeah. Actually… I had my first kiss when I was, like, 3.” He laughed, the ridiculous memory shaking through his body. “I was trying to copy… I dunno… something I saw on a soap opera.”

“What were we thinking, huh?” You chuckled with him, the mood lightening, opening up a little more. “I’ve had a few. But I dunno. It’s like, when things start heating up, I kinda lose interest. Like, ‘well, I’m here now.’”

“Yeah… exactly. There are highs—everything’s great for a minute, then…” He traced a sudden dip with his hand, shaking his head. “It just disappears. And I’m stuck there, same as before.”

“Feels like the idea of being close is way more interesting than actual closeness.” You said thoughtfully, and he stopped, snapping his fingers.

“That’s it.” He licked his lips, glancing around before settling his gaze back on you. “We’re cut from the same cloth.”

“Yeah…” You exhaled, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence. “Wanna kiss?”

“Sure.” He laughed, the sound growing louder as you puckered your lips dramatically. “What’s that?”

“A kiss.” You laughed, blowing him an air kiss that he caught and pressed to his chest. Then his hand moved up, pressing to his lips. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Kiss.” He whispered, resting his hands back on his lap. His lips insisted on curving into a smile. You turned your head to hide yours, just like he did.

For a brief moment, you wanted the playful game to continue—wanted something different. But who knows? Maybe that moment had come and gone. Maybe it had stretched too long.

The silence stayed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something unspoken hung in the air—heavy with expectation. Carmy let out a long breath, rubbing his hands on his thighs like he was trying to work out some kind of nervous energy.

“You think we’ve been putting something off?” he asked, his gaze fixed straight ahead, like he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

Your heart jumped at the question. Of course, you’d thought about it before, but hearing it from him made it feel real.

“Maybe,” you answered, softer than you intended. “But if we are… what do you wanna do about it?”

Carmy finally turned his head toward you. His blue eyes locked on yours—intense, but laced with uncertainty. “I’m not good at this. Like, saying what I want. What I feel. It’s just easier when I’m working.”

“What if it doesn’t have to be perfect? What if it just… happens?” you suggested, hoping to ease the weight pressing on his chest.

A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips—one of those rare, genuine smiles. “You always make things sound simpler.”

“Maybe because sometimes they are. We just make ‘em complicated.”

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment. The warmth of the car heater wrapped around you both, making the space feel even more intimate. Carmy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel before he let out another deep breath.

“Wanna take a walk?” he asked, his eyes flickering away for a second before landing back on you.

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile, sensing the shift in the air.

You stepped out of the car together, walking along the park path. Distant sounds of footsteps and laughter filled the night air, mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves. Conversation came easier—work stories, childhood memories, even a few half-formed plans for the future.

After a while, Carmy came to a stop. He turned to face you, hesitation mingling with a newfound determination in his expression.

“Can I try somethin’?” he asked, voice low and careful.

“Yeah. You can.”

He stepped in closer, the distance between you shrinking until the air felt charged, heavy with unsaid words and possibilities. The sounds of the park faded into the background—the faint rustle of leaves and distant footsteps no longer mattered. The only thing you were aware of was him.

Carmy hesitated, his gaze searching yours as if silently asking for permission. There was a vulnerability in his eyes—an openness he rarely let anyone see. His hand twitched slightly at his side, as if he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure he should. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned in.

Time seemed to slow down. His breath mingled with yours, warm against the cool night air. He moved with that same mixture of care and uncertainty that was so distinctly him—measured, cautious, but also raw with emotion.

When his lips finally brushed yours, it was gentle—like he was afraid to break something fragile. Yet there was a quiet intensity beneath it, a weight carried by all the moments you’d both left unspoken. The kiss lingered, neither of you willing to let it end too soon, hands taking a slow path to each other's side, gripping gently on your waist.

When he pulled back, his eyes stayed locked on yours, his breathing slightly uneven. He didn’t move far—just enough to study your face. He was searching for something—for regret, hesitation, or anything that might tell him he’d misread the moment.

But there was nothing like that. Instead, your gaze held his, steady and sure. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips—a silent reassurance that you were exactly where you wanted to be. And slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

“Was that… okay?” he asked, his nervous smile giving him away.

“It was more than okay.” You reached out, your fingers lightly grazing the back of his hand. “It was… how do you say? Ottimo?”

“Yeah, ottimo.” He chuckled, roaming your face, his eyes resting on your lips.

“Ottimo.” you echoed, trying to suppress a terrible fake italian accent coming through. “Did I do great?”

“Attagirl. Molto bene."

“Yeah… whatever this is.” you laughed, licking your own lips, umid on his taste. For the first time, it felt like all the waiting—all the second-guessing—had finally led you both to the right place.

He took a deep breath, like a weight he’d carried for years—maybe even decades—was finally lifted off his shoulders. He clicked his tongue, glancing around to check for any strangers or suspicious movement nearby. But there was nothing—just the warmth radiating from both your bodies.

“I feel like a hypocrite now,” you teased, his hand resting firmly on your hip, giving a gentle squeeze as you chuckled.

“How come?”

“Intimacy doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you admitted, letting yourself get carried by the lightness of your laugh.

“Doesn’t seem bad at all.” His smile softened, shy as ever but now intertwined with something deeper. Everything you hadn’t said to each other—but that the whole world seemed to know—hung between you. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he finally spoke again. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.”

The way he said it wasn’t just casual. It was a quiet promise—a subtle acknowledgment that something had shifted. And as you both started walking back to the car, it was clear: things wouldn’t be the same after tonight.

[silentplanetcat]

Fuck….I forgot about Jeff Dunham. I remember seeing a clip of him somewhere as a little 9 year old. This is actually bringing a lot of stuff back. I was in a very different area (namely, New York) and I was 3 when the attacks happened so I remember nothing. My first memory of the time was a WILD conversation that took place between my dad and me in 2003ish. Let me set the scene. I am a gangly little 5 year old with terrible hand-eye coordination, crooked glasses, pigtails that stuck out of my head and 2 years of 40-hour-per-week ABA therapy under my belt. I am going through something of a questioning phase as I try and figure out how the world works. Notable questions included “Mommy, how did you and Daddy meet? Are you siblings?” “Is George Washington Still the President?” “Do *all* boys named George become the president?” etc.

My dad and I are walking in New York. I had just finished reading a children's book about World War 2 and I have a lot of questions about it. This is how the conversation begins. Me: So World War 2 was started by Germany trying to take over the world...

Dad: Yes honey

Me: Did they want to take over America?

Dad: Well they didn’t get that far, but they probably would have tried. Me: Are we in any wars right now?

Dad: [considerate pause. Glances to his right. We are currently passing by the Iraqi Embassy, I shit you not.] Well…yes..yes we are.

Me: Who are we fighting?

Dad: Two countries you haven’t heard of. One is called Iraq. That’s its flag right there. Me: Whoa! What’s the scribble on it?

Dad: That’s writing in their language. Me: Do they speak…Irakian?

Dad: No. Their language is called Arabic and it has a different alphabet from us. Me: Are they trying to take us over?

Dad: …no Me: Then why are we fighting them?

Dad: Well Iraq is ruled by a very, very mean man named Saddam Hussein. We think he has weapons that could hurt a lot of people. Like I said, he’s a very bad man. So America is going to try and stop him from doing bad things.

Me: Like we’re gonna put him in a time out?

Dad:…something like that.

Me: Is the President gonna put him in a time out?

Dad: Well the President has to stay in America, so he’s going to send some very brave men and women to put Saddam Hussein in a time out.

Me: Wow! [Pause] You aren’t going to fight Saddam Hussain, are you? Dad: No, don’t worry honey.

Me: Ok. Good.

After this, I start getting interested in reading the newspapers my parents get every morning. I don’t know if they’re on the Internet. I only use the Internet to play flash games on the American Girl Doll website (RIP Flash Plugins). It starts with me looking at pictures and asking what’s happening in them. Then I move on to reading captions, then shorter articles, then longer articles. The New York Times and NPR become my foreign policy teacher—but I know not to listen too much to NPR because dad says sometimes they’re a bit crazy. My understanding of America is very…liberal. I know we are the Best country in the world with the best and nicest army in the world. I know that when I see someone in a soldier’s uniform I’m supposed to go up to them, look them in the eye and thank them for their service. I know that my classmates talk about these buildings that don’t exist anymore called the “Twin Towers,” but mom and dad won’t tell me what they are until I’m 9. I know that Saddam Hussein is a bad man with a very silly-looking mustache and that he hates freedom, children and America and we need to stop him. I also know about another bad man named Osama Bin Laden. He wears a hat and has a long beard, like Santa, but its black instead of white. I know he hates America and Freedom too and that we’re trying to find him so we can put him in a time out with Saddam Hussein. I am shielded from a lot of the homophobia and rape culture. When I find out the gay couple that introduced my parents to each other aren’t married, I’m very confused because I don’t know why the President or Congress would make a law against Uncle [Redacted] and Uncle [Redacted] from getting married. I’m also a bit peeved because I want them to make me their flower girl, but mom and dad say that they won’t have a big wedding because they want to do it quickly in case the government of Massachusetts changes their mind. The rape culture doesn’t become apparent to me until I’m 10 and learn what rape in my Catholic School bible study class. By the time I’m able to appreciate it at 12, it’s 2010 and the decade is over. Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein are dead. We’re still in Iraq and Afghanistan and nobody knows when we’ll leave. The economy is collapsing and a lot of my classmates are moving away. The rumblings of oncoming fascism are there, but Mom and Dad say everything is gonna be ok. I believe them. Then I’m in my college’s dining hall in 2016 watching the election, the results come in, a collective wail erupts from the crowd of students staring at the screen and a thought occurs to me that I’ve never really considered. What if Mom and Dad are wrong?

…I’m asking this as a younger queer person who was busy with other things during the 2000s (namely being a toddler/very young child)…what was being queer teen in the early 2000s like? Also, before I go interrogate the first willing 40 year old I find at the LGBT Center…do you know of any books or articles about this time period?

it was a lot of being forced through abstinence only sex education, getting hate crimed, being super eating disordered and that being completely normalized and even considered healthy, having classmates die of a mix of eating disorders & drug use, rampant teen pregnancy, both teachers and students getting into fistfights, being sexually harassed literally all the time, the one trans kid having to take school online so he wouldnt kill himself, 25 year olds hanging out around the school giving girls cigarettes and sexually assaulting them, working a part time job at the mall for 5.50 an hour then driving home to find your mom watching bill oreilly ranting about how people like you are evil and disgusting and next thing jeff dunhams on the tv doing jokes about dead muslims. cant tell you just how ambient and everywhere both violent homophobia and rape culture were like it was omnipresent. lotta slurs too. lots of teens getting black out drunk all the time and puking and getting into situations. what resistance to the wars i got to see in my small ish city was a few rallies of a few dozen people and some protest signs tied to highway overpasses, but otherwise american flags and jingoistic propaganda were everywhereeeee, on every minivan window and classroom etc. nobody spoke up for gay people that wasnt gay and everybody hated women and were so so anti black

the internet was a lot better though.

[thetravelingegg]

I’m a horrible horse nerd and also a horrible transformers nerd so enjoy my headcannons of my favorite mtmte characters as horses! 😋

First up Rung the Connemara pony!

Really, really old especially for a horse but has the soundness of a 10 year old. It’s a running joke between the farm hands that he’s actually an immortal god and will outlive everyone like he did his previous owner

No one ever rides him but he loves having a job to do and would make the best lesson pony for little kids or therapeutic riders

The most amazing horse to go on a trail ride with

Mostly forgotten about in favor of the other, larger, more exhilarating and athletic horses, but is extremely affectionate and social

The best thing to do after a bad day is to hide in the corner of his stall while he gently nibbles at your hair or puts his head in your lap

Someone should braid his mane and put little flowers in it <3

Would make a great therapy horse. 10/10 sweetest boy who deserves all the peppermints

Next up Megatron the draft horse!(no particular breed however I’m pretty sure the one in the picture is a Belgian draught)

The horse is a war criminal

Usually pretty well behaved but is highly intelligent and is constantly outsmarting his handlers

It’s a running joke between them that one day he’ll start a revolution and take over the world

Has phenomenally smooth gaits and would be a good horse for a rider learning how to trot, canter or jump

Pretty patient with inexperienced riders but will not take shit and will absolutely tell you if you’re yanking on his bit or kicking too hard

Actually not that old but years of neglect has caused his joints and back to be in rough condition so he can’t do anything too strenuous

Would push himself between the fragile farm hands and other horses if they get too rowdy for his comfort

Is much gentler when disciplining the humans than he is disciplining the other horses

Yes you read that right he will discipline the humans. He likes to keep everyone in line and won’t hesitate to correct unnecessary aggressiveness whether human or horse

Basically the “alpha wolf” of the farm, will make sure everyone is cared for

Thoroughbred Whirl!

Bites. Bites. Bites. Bites

I only say thoroughbred because I’ve worked with them before and a lot them acted like Whirl(to be fair they also weren’t trained but I digress)

Was in one race where he bucked off his jockey immediately after the gates opened and ran around the track spooking the other horses.

They tried to fix his behavioral issues by gelding him but it turns out he’s just like that

Is missing an eye and some teeth(idk what else to do for his claws since horses can’t live without all of they’re hooves

Trying to ride him is literally the worst

If he doesn’t buck you off, he has a really jittery trot that is impossible to sit and a canter that feels like your getting launched into orbit(impossible to half-seat).

Hates all tack but has absolutely crotch-killing sky high withers if you try bareback

Amazing jumper though. Can scale practically anything with perfect form. Would be fun to do cross country with if he actually listened

(A picture of a cross country jump because holy fucking shit that’s insane)

Jumping with him feels like flying

Is constantly jumping the fences to raid the feed room no matter how big they are and confusing everyone who works there.

I honestly can’t see him ever behaving enough to be ridden calmly for more than five minutes(if he really likes and trusts the rider)

Will leave the farm randomly to go on a romp through the woods then come back for dinner

The apex predator of his area. Will fight off bears and eat small wildlife like squirrels because he can

Last but not least it’s friesian Tarn!

Infinite ♾️ aura horse

The most graceful thing on four legs. Gorgeous and intimidating

Absolutely demolishes dressage competitions. Completely captivates the judge with his flashy movement and his scar only makes him more charming

As soon as he steps into the ring his competitors know they lost

The kind of horse who loves training and his job

The only one who’s still a stallion and is actually well behaved for the most part although he’ll throw the occasional tantrum when things don’t go his way

He sometimes even goes overboard in an attempt to please his rider

His best friend is a feral barn cat named Nickel who hates humans and will attack anyone who tries to pet her

She terrifies the farmhands more than the actual stallion and they will fight over who has to enter Tarn’s stall first because she likes to sleep in the straw

She will nap on his back while he grazes

Here’s a video of what he would look like

[m4rv3l-girl]

Man Up, Barnes

Bucky x Y/N

Post TFATWS, Bucky is settling into a ‘normal’ life. Will one coffee change everything?

Warnings: None, just fluff!

The bell above the door had chimed softly when Bucky Barnes stepped into the small café, the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon brought a sense of comfort. He didn’t have a particular reason for coming here - just another quiet spot he’d stumbled upon while attempting to navigate his life post-Flag Smashers and post-therapy, post-everything. Sam had been hounding him about getting out more and talking to people.

He figured this was a pretty good start.

His eyes swept across the café, taking in the happy glow of hanging Edison bulbs, honey-colored shelves lined with mugs and the occasional patron tucked away into the corner, lost in their own world. It was cozy.

Safe.

And then he saw her.

Sitting near the window, curled up with a book, was a woman who looked like she belonged here. The crisp autumn outside accentuating her warmth - engulfed in a thick knit sweater, legs tucked under the chair. Her fingers were delicately holding open a well-loved copy of The Hobbit. Her hair fell softly around her face, her nose scrunched slightly in concentration, completely taken by Tolkien’s pages.

Bucky didn’t realize that he was staring until the waiter approached her table and placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate down in front of her.

“And this,” the waiter added, sliding a small folded napkin next to the drink, “is from me.”

The woman blinked up at him, clearly startled out of her reading, before looking down at the napkin. Even from where Bucky sat, he could see her cheeks go a brilliant shade of red. She stammered something, probably a thanks, and the waiter gave her a smirk before walking off.

Bucky found himself chuckling under his breath. The shy reaction, the sheer awkwardness of it, was endearing. There was something about how flustered she got that made him want to go over and tell her it was okay, that guys like that were a dime a dozen.

Except…he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who just walked up to strangers and struck up a conversation.

But then again he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore.

He was Bucky Barnes and Bucky Barnes was trying to be a better human being.

‘Man up, Barnes.’

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face before he stood up and walked over. His boots were silent against the hardwood floor as he crossed the café and before he could change his mind, he plonked down into the seat across from her.

“Hey,” he said, resting his metal arm on the table as casually as could muster.

She jumped a little and her eyes went wide as she took him in - first his face, then his unmistakable vibranium arm. He waited for the flicker of recognition, the usual shift in demeanor that people had when they realized who he was. But it never came. Instead, she blinked and tilted her head slightly, her lips parting as if she were going to say something and then thinking better of it.

Finally, she settled on “Uh…hi?”

Bucky smirked. “I saw what happened. The waiter. You looked like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.”

A small, embarrassed laugh escaped her. “Oh god, was it that obvious?”

“Painfully.”

She groaned and buried her face in her hands for a second before peeking at him through her fingers. “He caught me off guard, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting-” She gestured flustered, toward the napkin. “That.”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Not used to guys hitting on you?”

She scoffed. “Not in such a direct, ‘here’s my number, call me maybe’ kind of way.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, well…at least he’s got confidence.”

“Mm.” She nudged the napkin away with one finger, shaking her head. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I just wanted to enjoy my book in peace, y��know?”

His eyes flicked to the worn pages of The Hobbit and something in his chest softened. “Good choice.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You’ve read it?”

He grinned. “Doll, I read it when it first came out.”

For a second, she just stared at him before realization dawned on her. “Oh…Oh.”

There it was. The recognition.

But instead of recoiling or looking at him with wary eyes as he was expecting, she just laughed and shook her head in disbelief. “You mean to tell me you were around when Tolkien was still writing?”

Bucky chuckled. “Not personally, but yeah. 1937. I remember picking up a copy from a little bookstore in Brooklyn.”

“Okay, that’s actually really cool.” She leaned forward slightly, the initial shyness from the waiter long forgotten. “So, what’s it like? Being a man out of time and all?”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “You want the short version or the long one?”

“Whichever one involves less existential crisis.”

He barked out an airy laugh, the sound surprising even himself a bit. “Alright, well… it’s weird. A lot of things don’t make sense. People talk too fast, coffee’s too expensive, and apparently pumpkin spice is a personality trait now.”

She giggled “Guilty as charged.”

He smirked. “Figured.”

She let her fingertip circle over the smooth rim of her mug before asking, “So what made you come over here? I mean, its not that I mind or anything, but I have a feeling you don’t make a habit of sitting down with strangers.”

“You looked… safe.”

She blinked, it was a rather odd statement. She assumed it was a compliment.. “Safe?”

Bucky nodded, exhaling through his nose. “Like home, kind of. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, you weren’t staring at your phone like the rest of the world. Just you, your book, and a hot chocolate.”

Her lips parted, and for a second she looked down at her book as if contemplating things. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Bucky glanced away, a little sheepish. “Just telling the truth.”

Smiling, she took a sip of her drink. “Well, since we’re being honest… I think you’re a lot more charming than you give yourself credit for.”

That caught him off guard. He tilted his head at her, searching her face for a hint of dry sarcasm. There was none, just a welcome warmth.

Something in his chest relaxed. “I… don’t hear that much.”

“Well, you should because it’s true.”

They talked for what felt like a minute and a day at the same time. About books, movies, the absurdity of modern slang (her having to explain what “it’s giving” meant), and the strange comfort of his new life routine. He found himself lessening up and his shoulders lost their usual tension. She simply sipped her hot chocolate and listened to him like he was just a normal guy.

Eventually, the café began to empty out, and she glanced at the time on her phone, sighing. “I should probably head home before I get too comfortable and decide to stay here forever.”

Bucky hesitated before finally saying, “I could walk you home.”

She blinked at him, surprised, but then smiled. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I want to.”

For a moment, she just studied him, as if trying to decide something. Then, with a warm, shy smile, she nodded. “Okay. That sounds nice.”

And as they stepped out into the crisp autumn air, Bucky realized that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just existing.

He was living.

——————————————————————————————————

Just a little peek into my imagination here! 🫶✨

[midnightshindig]

what if cecil’s spouse was one of the guardians omniman killed in the first episode 👀

Cecil x OgGotG!Reader

Damn we all need some therapy, huh?

I've been getting a lot of angst requests and if you requested angst, and I haven't done it yet- especially if it's a Viltrumite reader, it's mostly because I'm mentally quite soft and it takes a lot more out of me to write good angst than good smut or fluff

Don't let this make anyone feel bad or stop requesting, I love it, but I just wanna be transparent about my process

You guys are amazing at requests though I eat this shit up EVERY time

Fic below the cut!!

I'll be honest idrk how to format this

Cecil and you are married in secret due to your status as a Guardian of the Globe

and it actually works out quite well

He's able to trust you to not die, and he's not constantly anxious you're going to get murked in battle

your power is super healing, like on some Deadpool type shit it should be virtually impossible to kill yo-

what the fuck.

Cecil and Donald arrive on scene at GHQ and there's blood everywhere.

Literally.

Everywhere.

Now Cecil is a tough man, he's been through stuff that would make the average person lose touch with reality

But this makes him almost throw up.

By far the worst part is that he can tell which blood Is yours because it's actively bubbling and trying to pull itself back together

The rescue team is trying to scoop you into a pile so you can reform, but there just isn't enough of you

Just blended and mashed guts and viscera, like your insides had been slushies before you'd died, and you'd been torn to shreds

but your blood was bubbling

could you even really die? Could you feel this? Could you think? What was Cecil going to do?

He watched you struggle to come back, and after THE IMMORTAL couldn't be resuscitated, he knew it was over

Your blood levelled and there was no effort to reform

maybe you'd finally died, perhaps you'd just given up

He didn't know.

He's pissy when he gets home, he can't cry, he's not sure he physically can

He wants to, but he's alone now, in his house, there's nothing stopping him

but he can't.

He looks at your wedding photos on the mantle, and down to the band on his hand

The cleanup team leaves yours in a box on his desk the next day

and he sobs.

He sobs so hard and so violently Donald clears the room, before excusing himself.

He hasn't cried since he took his job the GPA, this is decades' worth of tears just built up and pouring out of him as he clutches your ring to his chest

His was a black tungsten band, yours the very same band with Lonsdaleite set in. The two strongest materials available to him so you could wear it in battle.

He remembers asking you to marry him, and sobs harder

The two of you are on the beach, a ridiculous venture to get Cecil over his distaste for it. He's younger then, shortly after accepting his position at the GPA

"Y'know-" you start, adjusting your sunhat as he grimaces on the towel laid out for him, under a large umbrella "I don't understand how you can hate the beach, it's so cheery!"

"You get sand in your ass and the water is polluted, there are screaming children everywhere and this beach allows dogs."

You roll your eyes, leaning over to kiss the top of his head before standing back up

"Well I'm going into the water, you don't hate me, do you?"

"No, of course not. I know what you're doing, Y/n, it won't work."

"Noooooo, of course not" You wink at him, leaving him under his umbrella as you head into the water.

Ah hell.

He adjusts so that the ring box in his pocket isn't so obvious

This should go well. This has to go well.

You're at the beach until sunset, when Cecil is so anxious he springs into action without any thought

He doesn't have a speech prepared

He doesn't have anything prepared except the ring in his pocket

but fuck, it's so picturesque.

"Y/n- Y/n get out of the water!" He calls to you, but you just stick a tongue out at him

"If you wanna talk to me you have to get in!"

He can't believe you're doing this to him- or rather, he's marrying you because you do this to him.

And so Cecil plunges into the water, all the way up to his hips in it before he reaches you

You smile wide at him "Ahh you got in!! What's up?"

The wind blows the hat off your head as Cecil pulls out his ring, unable to kneel due to the water

"Will you marry me?"

"..."

"...??????" He's stressing out

"...!!" You're estatic

You tackle him into a hug, plummeting you both into the water

so much for not getting his hair wet

"Oh Cecil- this ring is beautiful!"

"Haha- I know, and it's resilient too, you can wear it while fighting..."

"and never take it off..." He finishes to himself, wiping the tears from his eyes and hoisting himself up, braced against the desk in front of him.

"Ugh... that's embarrassing. I can't believe it." He tries to put back on the tough guy act, but there's a pain in his heart and in his gut and everywhere. It hurts everywhere.

This is when Donald pokes his head back in with a box of tissues and a warm beverage

He doesn't say anything, just brings it over and sits in the desk chair next to where Cecil is holding himself up

After a long silence, Cecil nods at him, taking a drink from the mug

It isn't better, but it helps.

[beef-brisket]

Adam went about his day like normal, going to Charlie's lessons, and even had one on one therapy.

Basically, he is doing everything in his power to not think about the book.

But he was failing. Miserably.

His mind kept drifting back to one specific section he red. Toys. Adam's never used them, he was made before the concept was even a thing, and in Heaven... well, they didn't really... get into that business.

So, Adam was more than curious, and it's a good step forward. It's not a leap like bondage or choking. Which is apparently quite popular.

Heading back to his room, he was actually thankful that Lucifer was out at meetings all day. He'll be able to have a look at some websites to get a feel for it... then he'll talk to Lucifer about it.

He just didn't want to seem like a complete idiot.

Locking his door, Adam sat on his bed and started to scroll through the only sex toy website he knew of. Ozzie's.

Adam: Jesus christ...

Adam was staring at a dildo that was moulded to look like Jesus. He really hopes his quater brother never falls down here. He might have an aneurysm.

Scrolling through, Adam looked at vibrators, flesh lights- which looked slightly disturbing if he was being honest, butt plugs, nipple clamps- which look like they'd hurt, and-.

Adam: Cock cages? The fuck?

Clicking on the product, a few pictures of how to use it and what it would look like on a cock. And... yeah, no. That's a hard no.

Adam: Fuck, that looks painful...

Going back to the home page, Adam continued to scroll until he came across three long, metal looking rods. Each one has a different size and had bumps.

Curious, Adam clicked on the product, which he found out were called sounding rods. Weird.

Adam: ...Oh- fuck no! Nope!

His dick actually hurt looking at those imagines. Who the fuck came up with this shit?! It took him months after getting with Lucifer to even stuck a finger in the kings ass, let alone putting g his dick inside his husband.

It took even longer for Adam to be okay with Lucifer fucking HIS ass. But then, it was one of the best things he's ever felt.

Adam: Why does everything look... painful?

Maybe he should wait for Lucifer? He was really starting to rethink this toy thing...

Adam Is Vanilla

@beef-brisket

-

Adam played with the wedding ring on his finger as he waited for Lucifer to come home from a Sins meeting. This shouldn't be this big of a deal but it is, he knew that a key to a good relationship is a healthy sex life among other things.

His and Lucifer's relationship was great, perfect even!

But Adam...... He just wasn't super adventurous in the bedroom. He was satisfied with their current love making and missionary position was always a perfect go to of his. His idea of spicing things up was getting different colors of lube.

But he doesn't want Lucifer to get bored, just because he's okay with how things are doesn't mean Lu is. And he wouldn't pressure Adam into doing anything he wasn't comfortable with.

He wanted him to be happy too, he loved him so much he'd try most anything once.

Within reason.

The sound of a portal opening caught his attention and Adam perked up.

Lucifer walked through and smiled: Well hello dove ~

Adam: Hey Luci. How was the meeting?

Lucifer: Mammon was there Soooo not great.

Adam: Are you.... Up for talking about something?

Lucifer joined him on the couch: Sure.

He watched Adams face take on a shade of pink and he looked away for a moment. He was just so cute!

Adam: W-Well, I was thinking that maybe..... We could spice things up a bit. You know.... In the bedroom.

Lucifer: Oh? How so?~

Adam was so flustered, he didn't know where to start this was so far out of his depth.

Adam: I-I-I don't know....

Lucifer smiled gently and cupped his cheek: If this is something you would really like to do, we could always start somewhere easy. Like a different position?

That sounded simple enough.

Adam: O-okay, which one?

Lucifer: You could always ride me if you want.~

[kozmicmizuu]

a lil bit of a sad headcanon of mine, is that Giyuu just refuses to get checked by any hospital or anything medical related if he doesn’t know them. not that he’s not aware he needs it, he just doesn’t trust it, not since he’s been called crazy by some “professionals” in the medical field when he was a child (his backstory basically)

He also would frankly rather die then be inside a hospital other than the ones in the slayer corps, he flat out just doesn’t trust it at ALL. no one really knows about his hatred towards the medical profession but Shinobu. she noticed this behavior whenever(like, once in a long time) that he genuinely seems uncomfortable, and actually looks like he’s going to hurt someone if they get near him. it’s very worrying but he’d never lash out, he has a lot of self control.

same goes for the education system, they failed him too, he was supposed to be taught and tutored but they never did that. just hurt him mentally and emotionally, he doesn’t like teachers other than physical education teachers, cause it’s kinda hard to hate mfs that quite literally teach some physically demanding things.

he taught himself like reading (at a more mature level), writing, cooking, and all other subjects, except math, another headcanon is that he has Dyscalculia (learning disorder that affects a person's ability to do math. dyslexia disrupts areas of the brain related to reading, dyscalculia affects brain areas that handle math- and number-related skills and understanding.) (god bless google)

he can’t do math so this day, no one really nods but himself, Urokodaki, and Gyomei and Tengen. why those two? it’s cause they knew him the longest, kinda

he also HATES being called crazy, or anything like that. he’s not crazy, he never will be. if like, the person doesn’t let up about calling him that, he can get fucking physical if he needs to be

anyways Giyuu don’t fuck with any of them mfs ong‼️ they failed him and he is not and never willing forgive them, he’s real for that

[yuwuta]

peds surgeon yuuta??? u cant say things like that i need to jump. the cartoons, the glasses, of course his freaky ass would have a thing for u calling him doctor okkotsu i need to die id wanna tease him sm and be all over him but i cant think of anything if its in a hospital how did the greys anatomy ppl made it work?

the grey’s doctors were FREAKS LMFAOO bc there is not space to be doing all that in the on call rooms…. honestly yuuta is probably too busy to even try anything with you in the hospital 90% of the time… he’s either in surgery or buried in the research library or falling asleep standing up 😭 sometimes you two pass each other in an empty stairwell and have time for a kiss or two, but never more than that (also because yuuta has very little self-restraint when it comes to you… if he allowed himself more than that, then it would be much harder to stop…) 

sometimes the two of you will fall asleep in the same on call room. yuuta will page you there and by the time you arrive he’s already half asleep, it’s probably his only nap in the last 24 hours, so you do your best not to wake wake him when you cuddle up next to him. you get a few hours of bliss in his arms before his pager is waking the both of you up, and he’s got to scurry downstairs to the peds floor and in his hurry he doesn’t realize he’s snagged your lab coat instead of his own, and it’s only when he’s haphazardly slipped it on and the arms are too short and the shoulders are too tight that he figures it out. it’s too late by then, because gojo is the attending on this case which means he doesn’t miss anything, which means he’s the first to giggle and tease, poking at your name embroidered above the breast pocket, “oh? i didn’t know the two of you got married already! oh and you took her last name, how noble, yuuta!~” 

[gxlden-angels]

Bro I hate fundamentalists and culturally-fundie parents they'll say shit like "spare the rod spoil the child am I right haha yea my parents used to have to beat my ass with a switch almost everyday but I sure did learn my lesson" but like??? no you didn't??? you were hit multiple times for something you very obviously did not, in fact, learn

Like studies about how harmful even lightly spanking children is aside, you're literally contradicting yourself?? Some even admitted they got worse as they got older cause they wanted to see how far they could push their parents before they got punished

And studies not aside, you're gonna get child raising advice from the same book that tells you to stone your wife if her hymen doesn't break on your wedding night instead of the decades of research we have now?? Just say you're a bad parent and move on my guy. Skill issue

[mangyraccooon]

Luffy arrives in November.

It’s just as fucking awkward as dragon feared

Robin is the first to greet him, “you are skinny without the cloak.” She smiles “sanji will fix that.”

Dragon can’t help but let out a snort. If god knows how many years of what essentially boiled down to food therapy. He had doubts that a pirate chef could make him less underweight than he was.

The rest of the crew stand in an obvious guarded circle. Luffy slowly steps into view.

His curly hair is longer now, an errant braid or two stick out. He stands taller and his face is serious. He looks like..

“Did grandpa also throw you into the jungle with tigers?”

Yup he’s definitely dragons alright.

“From the minute I could walk.”

Luffy cocks his head those wide eyes catching the weak sun, there’s a red tinge to his eyes now that dragon suspects is nikas influence.

But there’s also amber flecks.

“I’m the pirate King.”

“Good.” Dragon says a little hoarsely.

Luffy cocks his head to the other side now, he’s examining a bug. “Do you want a tour of my ship.”

Dragon thinks his lips twitch into some approximation of a smile. “Sure.”

It’s still awkward. The crew mill in the background as luffy leads dragon around. Sharp eyes cautious, ready to take their captain back if needed.

Luffy talks most of the time, and Dragon listens soaking in the stories he heard third and fourth hand or god forbid through Morgan’s

His son shines so brightly, he almost needs to squint.

“Oh and I want you to meet shanks!”

The noise that emerges from dragons throat surprises even him.

Luffy stops and turns his eyes big with questions or maybe concern.

Dragon clears his throat perhaps a little too hard and winces, “I uh, I used to babysit shanks when he was little.” He says rather lamely.

“Woah, that’s so cool! Does that mean you can marry shanks?”

“What?!” Dragons voice came out in an octave he thought was no longer physically possible for him to reach. “I- I don’t- he’s kinda young? Isn’t he?

His son hummed eyes looking inconspicuously off into the distance. “I suppose.. are you really bothered by something like that?”

Am I? Thought Dragon who couldn’t say one way or the other without being a massive hypocrite. The last time he’d seen shanks he’d been a pimply preteen.

“I- guess I wouldn’t marry someone unless I knew them very well.” He settles on.

“Like if you were in an alliance?” Asks Luffy.

“Sure?” He still has no idea what his son seems to be skirting around but that seems to be the right thing to say.

Luffy breaks out a huge smile and Dragon feels a tentative push to smile back.

Dinner time is where things go to shit, Dragon stares at the mountains of food and feels the anxiety crawling up into his throat.

The smell of chicken is making his stomach churn.

“Is everything ok?”

Of fucking course it’s his son who asks and Dragon would lie, he would. But he can’t because the last time he did he nearly chocked on his own vomit and every single person is staring at him..

“I can’t eat this.”

You could hear a pin drop.

Dragon can hear the sound of a sword being popped from its sheath.

“Oh Dragon san forgive me.” Robins voice breaks through, cleaning, sprouting, washing away tension. “I had forgotten that you had dietary restrictions.”

“Restrictions?” The chef with the swirling brow, stared Dragon down with the same intensity a wolf would a sheep. “What are they?”

“Dragon san suffered trauma to his trachea many years ago” , Robin interjected smoothly. “He struggles with completely solid foods, and developed aversions to others during his recovery.”

The chef, sanji. Dragon reminded himself looked back and forth between him and Robin.

“Lemme guess.” He drawled, his mouth quirking. “Chicken noodle soup.”

Dragon couldn’t stop himself from making a face and Sanji gave a low chuckle.

“You got anything against northern spices?” He asked and Dragon shook his head.

“Alright, gimme 10 and I’ll whip up something palatable for you.” Sanji called as he bustled back into the kitchen.

Luffy took Dragons hand, “don’t worry, Sanjis cooking is the best!”

Dragon could only nod as his son led him to a seat by jinbei and Robin. A small blessing or maybe planned.. which ever Drgaon was just glad he wasn’t sitting by the cat burglar. 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to nab what he had in his pockets. Even if he was gonna die, there were things he wished to keep with him till the end.

“Mr dragon sir,” came the squeaky, cracking voice.

The tiny reindeer who was the doctor was looking at him in awe and curiosity. “Could I take a look at your throat after dinner? I am curious to see how the muscles healed.”

Dragon hesitated. “Can you do it without touching?”

There was an all to knowing look in the youngsters eyes as he nodded.

“Ok.” Dragon exhaled.

Sanji chose that moment to bring him a bowl of northern bean stew alongside a small pot of melted cheese with bits of meat and vegetables to dip.

Dragon very mindfully did not moan with his first bite.

If he had he might have to take himself overboard before dessert.

He got about half way through the soup and a quarter through the cheese before his stomach couldn’t handle anymore.

“It was a side effect.” He tells sanji when he catches the inquisitive look. “My stomach shrank during recovery, I just can’t handle as much food.”

The chef smiles politely but Dragon can see the gears turning in his head.

Goddamit

After the dinner Dragon goes to the infirmary with the little doctor.

He patiently tilts his neck this way and that, swallowing, talking a coughing after pushing a tad too far.

Chopper scribbles on his clipboard. “Do you take any medication?” He asks.

“Shit ton of Zoloft, concerta or vyvanse when I can get my hands on it, adderall when I can’t.”

“I see.” More scribbling “and how do you feel taking all of those medications?”

“I feel like I would’ve killed myself before Luffy turned 4 if I didn’t.”

He has to give it to the young doctors level of professionalism, because there’s only a skip of unwanted movement before the pen is smoothly rolling again.

Monkey D Dragon and the auDHD/depression/vocal cord paralysis induced curse of “I need to eat, but I don’t want to”.

Oh it’s the worst, the only effective method they have found is if Sabo or one of the younger members asks him if he can make some food

Then he’ll wander into the kitchen and make something and end up joining in the eating out of habit.

At his worst kuma had to hold him down while Iva shoved a tube down his throat (it only happened a couple times but still those weren’t good times)

Dragon had been brought kicking and screaming back from near death multiple times and it is the biggest tragedy that it doesn’t bother him whatsoever

[everywaythatmatters]

The boy himself from Of Cats and Closed Doors by @tragediegh

[kaocat-tatatat]

Just read the comic Arkham Asylum: A Serious House On A Serious Earth recently and I am surprised how little fanfiction I can find around the idea of Bruce being trapped in Arkham, there's so much you could do with it (and stories focusing on a decent into madness/breakdown of a characters psyche are very interesting to me).

if anyone has any fanfic relating to this idea they can recommend, please do!

[sysig]

Dr. “Has to get a good grade in therapy” Doran (Patreon)

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.