#i give everyone a chance and keep giving them

[i-dared-myself]

Skirt War

Requested by anonymous: Could I req a fic with the stray kids' ninth member being put in a short dress/skirt (you know those that don't look like it'll ride up if you move but it does and its annoying af??) for a performance with a dance dance - that she has to move around a lot and then she keeps trying to pull the skirt down but that piece of shit just keeps going back up. And she spends the whole performance playing tug of war with a bunch of fabric trying not to be indecent and humiliated. And backstage she feels shit bc she couldn’t dance well and looked pathetic and she's disappointed and frustrated and embarrassed and yk. Idk if this is understandable anymore

“Wow, Felix,” you say, “you look really good! The stylists worked really hard with this new set of outfits.”

Felix hums his agreement, adjusting his gloves. “Where’s yours?”

You glance down at yourself. You’re still in your normal clothes. “Ah, they haven’t called me back yet. I think they’re finishing with Seungmin now.”

Felix makes a small sound of understanding, reaching up to touch his hair. He stops himself and drags his hand back down to his side. “Should I dye my hair soon?”

You shrug. “Do you want to? Is your hair even alive at this point?”

You hear someone softly call your name, and turn before you head Felix’s response. A staff member is waving you over as Seungmin and Jisung walk by.

“Looking good,” you compliment them, smiling brightly. You’re excited for what you’ll be wearing for the performance.

So you’re handed the set of clothes that you change into. You don’t even get a chance to look at yourself in a mirror before you’re whisked away for makeup and hair.

You eventually step out, joining the others. It seems as if everyone else has finished with their own styling, and everyone looks great.

There’s one tiny little problem, though.

Your tiny little skirt.

Your shirt is amazing, and you can’t disagree with the fact that you look hot in it. But the skirt is as small as they get. You’re amazed that you’re even allowed to wear it.

You’re fairly certain it’ll stay in place during thr performance, but you really don’t want to take chances. So you do an experimental twirl, heart sinking when the skirt instantly flies up.

Hyunjin recoils when he sees you. “What the-“

“Watch it!” Chan warns, narrowing his eyes. He faces you, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh boy.”

You tug the material down, fiddling with it anxiously. “Is it that bad?”

Jeongin is averting his eyes, which does absolutely nothing to make you feel better. “Nope. It’s totally fine.”

“Did they ask you about this?” Minho frowns deeply, glancing out at the crowd between the curtains. The sound check is almost complete, so you’re running out of time to deal with this.

“No. I wasn’t aware that I’d be wearing this.” Your hands tremble. You feel sick with how short it is. You half believe you’re at risk of your most intimate areas just being on display.

Seungmin grunts a little. “Want my sweater? To tie around your waist?”

You consider it for a moment before shaking your head. “Maybe later. I don’t want it to look like I’m disrespecting the stylists.”

“But it’s fine!” Jisung assures you. “These aren’t our usual stylists, and they don’t know our boundaries.”

“But we also don’t want to start something with this event,” you point out. They stylists had come with the gig, and you didn’t want to disrespect them if you didn’t usually work with them. It might ruin any other opportunities.

“Positions, everyone,” Chan suddenly says. He gives you a pitying look as everyone files into their assigned places. “You’ve got this.”

You’re not as confident as he is, but you force a smile. You tug the skirt down one last time before bounding out onto stage.

The music starts up and you begin to dance. Every movement that involves legs (pretty much all of them) has the skirt flipping up. Felix is behind you for the beginning, and when you catch a glance of his face it’s bright red.

You miss a hand gesture because you’re adjusting the fabric again, and your stomach tumbles. The media is going to have a field day with this. Everyone is going to be talking about how unprofessional you are.

Positions are swapped, and then you’re next to Changbin. He turns his gaze away to be respectful, but it just reinforces the idea in your head that the outfit is bad. That you’re indecent.

You blink back tears as you stumble over yet another move, too busy holding the skirt down to make it to the next spot in time. You’re falling behind, mind focused on your decency and not the dance.

Then your lines come, and your voice cracks. You’re lucky enough that you don’t have to hold your microphone up, because you honestly don’t have a spare hand.

It comes to an end, and you all bow. You walk off stage, perhaps the most humiliated that you’ve ever been.

Changbin loops his arms around you, tying his sweater around your waist. You mutter your thanks and wrench your headset off. 

“Hey.” Chan gently grabs your arm and steers you back to the group. “Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You keep your head ducked, gaze locked on the floor. Your throat burns and you’re struggling not to cry.

Jeongin comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I think you did great.”

You shove him away. “Well I didn’t! I sucked because of this stupid skirt! I let it get in my head, and now everyone’s going to be talking about it!”

Minho sits on the ground and takes your hands in his. He gently pulls you down to his lap and lets your cry against his chest. “Yeah, it wasn’t your greatest performance.”

“How is that supposed to help?” Jisung hisses out.

“But Stay loves you no matter what. And if they don’t, they can go suck it.” Minho strokes your hair. 

Chan clears his throat. “I might not have said it in those exact words, but he’s right. And from now on, I’ll make it clear to our managers and staff about our boundaries. Including those that we work with for the first time.”

You hiccup between tears, burying your face further against Minho. “Really?”

Chan hums. “Absolutely. And we have time to change before our next song, so why don’t you go to the stylists again?”

You sniffle and push yourself out of Minho’s grip. Seungmin gives you a reassuring smile as you wander off.

“Excuse me?” you hesitantly say as you approach one of the stylists. “Would it be okay if I got a different skirt? Or maybe some pants?”

He tilts his head, nose wrinkling. “Why? Is there a problem with it?”

“Uh, it’s just that-“ You toy with the material as you try and find the correct words. You don’t want to insult the man. “Dancing in this is very difficult. I don’t feel comfortable in this.”

He smiles mockingly. “Oh, really? Well it’s fine. It’s not even that short.”

“I just danced in it and it didn’t go that well.” You’re aware that you’re running out of time. You need to hurry up. “Can you please just direct me to-“

“Have you considered that maybe it’s just your skill?” he interrupts. He sighs and shakes his head, turning away. “But fine. I could find something else.”

You swallow thickly as you follow him.

Is it actually your own fault? Are you just not a talented enough dancer for these clothes? 

“Is this good enough for you?” The stylist holds up a new set of bottoms, and you wince. It’s even smaller than the one you’re currently wearing.

“Ready yet?” Jisung comes sliding in, eyes widening at the skirt being held up. “Wow, that’s small.”

“Uh, almost,” you weakly tell him.

Jisung’s eyes catch on your face and trembling bottom lip. His arms shoot out to wrap around you, and he pats your back. “It’s okay!”

“Are you wearing this or not?” the stylist snaps. 

“No, she’s not.” Jisung tightens Changbin’s sweater on your waist. “She’s wearing this and we have to go now, since we’re on in less than a minute. But I’ll be telling Bang Chan about you.”

The man pales. Having an idol complain about you was pretty much a death sentence, especially when that idol had as much influence as Stray Kids.

Jisung grabs your hand you the two of you dash out onto stage. You burst out and join the rest of the members, just in time for the music to begin.

This time it goes smoother. The sweater gives enough weight to keep the skirt down, and you’re able to focus on the dance. Your movements are fluid and well-executed, and you know even Hyunjin would be proud.

When you go backstage, you feel mildly more confident. You take a swig of your water bottle as Jisung tells Chan about the stylist.

Jeongin huffs, overhearing the conversation. “What an asshole.”

Seungmin hums his agreement. “A real dick.”

Chan holds up his hands. “Let’s watch the language, everyone. We’re professionals at work.”

Changbin snorts. “Right. If he’s a professional, why did he basically humiliate her?”

Felix hooks an arm over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I bet Minho will screw up soon and everyone will forget about today.”

Minho makes a sound of protest, narrowing his eyes. “Why me?”

Hyunjin wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Relax, it’s just an example.”

Chan calls the stylist over, who appears vaguely nauseated as he steps closer. He bows briefly to Chan before his eyes flick to you for a fraction of a second.

“I heard you had a bit of an issue with one of my members?” Chan blandly asks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry. “Were you the one who put her in that skirt? Were you planning for her to humiliate herself and get kicked out of the industry?”

“Yeah!” Jisung cries out. He’s immediately silenced by Minho.

“S-Sorry,” the man mutters. “I just- I’m sorry.”

“No, no, continue.” Chan arches an eyebrow challengingly. “You just what?”

“Bet he just wanted to see her in it,” Seungmin drawls. “Is that it?���

A bead of sweat rolls down the stylist’s forehead. “Well- It wasn’t that short!”

“Would you feel comfortable wearing it?” Felix chimes in. “Because I thought it was pretty short.”

“Guys,” you say. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Poor thing.” Hyunjin pats your head. “Wanna eat a whole bunch of ice cream with me?”

“Maybe,” you slyly say, walking with him to the van. You ignore the sounds of Chan still scolding the man. 

“If you ever need my sweater again, just ask.” Changbin comes up from behind you to poke at the fabric of the borrowed clothes. 

“Are we just stealing these?” Jeongin questions once everyone is in the van. Everyone is also still in the performance clothing. 

Chan frowns. “Oops.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⸝⸝ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 ⸝⸝

a/n: i was thinking about this for a while and just HAD to write it!! Bill's a little freaky but ok. everyone kisses differently and i love how much that says about them :) maybe i'll do a part two tho idk if it'll be smth nsfw or no. also sorry if photos are random i just think it suits gravity falls aesthetic plus i was out of ideas (i want summer)

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚

Stan’s got a thing for forehead kisses, always has, always will. they’re effortless and easy. a quick press of his lips when he passes by, a habit more than anything. he’s a busy man, always moving, always going somewhere, but that doesn’t mean he won’t grab you, tilt your head up and press a warm kiss right to your forehead

it's a way of saying “i gotcha” without actually saying it. doesn’t matter if he’s in a rush, grumbling about tourists, wiping down the counter. he’ll keep you safe. he swears it.

big, warm hands cupping your face. his lips are warm, his stubble scratches against your skin but the moment you start to melt he’s gone.

he pulls back, smirks, winking at you

“gotta give the tourists their money’s worth, sweetheart.” you hear his voice through the walls of the Mystery Shack, always so confident as he launches into his usual con. “step right up, folks! come see the eighth wonder of the world!”

but, oh, don’t let that fool you. he’s a tease, and he knows it.

he’s got another favorite, too

your neck

he makes a game of it. a teasing peck when he leans in to tell you something. a slow, tender kiss at the curve of your throat when he’s feeling particularly smug, when he’s got you pinned between him and the kitchen counter, when he knows you’re hanging on to every little touch.

“heh. what’s that face for, baby? didn’t think id be so smooth, huh?”

he’s a biter, too, making you shiver. he needs to feel the way you react beneath his hands. he likes knowing he can fluster you. likes leaving you breathless, just for him.

and if he’s feeling real bold, his lips might stray lower, making a slow, lazy path along your collarbone. “what? somethin’ wrong? i think I’m right where i wanna be.”

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅

Ford kisses like a man who’s spent most of his life not kissing anyone, like someone who’s read about it, thought about it, imagined it, but never quite gotten the chance. but when he feels the warmth, the closeness, how intimate it is he can’t stop.

he kisses your hands first, always. fingertips, knuckles, the inside of your wrist where your pulse flutters

your shoulders come next. he’ll press his lips there absently while he’s working, when you’re standing beside him reading over his notes. sometimes, he forgets himself, murmuring a distracted “mm, love you” against your skin before his smart brain catches up with his mouth. and oh the way his ears burn when you point it out

also when he’s overwhelmed, when the world is too much, when his mind is too loud, he rests his forehead there, brushing his lips against the curve of your shoulder. he just wants to feel you close

but when he’s really feeling it, when he’s past overthinking and just wants you, it's your calves. he kneels. Ford takes his time, hands so big, shaking a little as he presses his thumb into muscle while tracing a slow path from your ankle up, up, up with his lips

“you never let me appreciate you properly.” he worships you. lets you feel it in every single careful, thorough kiss.

𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓

Bill isn’t bound by flesh, but he's bound by desire

he loves mirrors. loves floating there behind you, his golden triangle form looming over you, all-seeing eye staring right into your soul. oh he loves the way you shudder when you see yourself in the reflection, when you see him, wrapping around you

thousands of long, dark limbs curl around your waist, a hand-like thing at your jaw, tilting your head to the side, exposing your skin to him. Bill's mouth appears where his eye should be and oh, that tongue. . .

“nervous, sweet thing? don’t be. i’ll take real good care of ya.”

his tongue is long. obscenely so. it drags over your throat, a slow, hot stroke that sends a jolt straight through you. you hear him laugh delightfully against your skin, because he knows exactly what he’s doing

“aww who’s my favorite little human, huh? who’s my delicious little slab of meat?”

kiss after kiss, mark after mark, he makes you watch. makes you see the way he devours you.

and he doesn’t stop at your neck, oh no, no, no. he follows your spine. mouth pressing open. dragging his long tongue against the curve of your back, your chest, your stomach

“every inch of you is mine. dont you forget that.”

𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒄𝒈𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕

Fidds kisses every part of you that makes him smile.

“well, ain’t you the cutest lil’ thing!”

your cheeks. he just can’t help himself, he sees your face and boom! instant smooch. one cheek, then the other, peppering you with quick, excited little kisses

he giggles into kisses. always, always grinning. pecks to your cheek when he’s working, smooches to your temple when you bring him a snack, laughter between every single kiss because he can’t believe his luck.

“gotcha! hehehe, ya oughta see the look on yer face!”

your nose is next. he thinks it’s adorable. boop. peck. boop. peck

“who’s the cutest thing in the whole dang world? ohhhh, that’s right, it’s you!”

sometimes he’s so excited he forgets to aim and accidentally bumps his nose against yours, which only makes him laugh more

but the most special place, the sweetest is your eyelids.

he does it when you’re falling asleep, when you’re curling against him, feeling safe and warm. a press of lips to your closed eyes, so feather-light

“rest easy, darlin’. im right here.” and if he wakes up before you, if the morning sun is spilling golden across your skin, he does it again

because he loves you. because he just can’t help it

[writingangst]

Friendly Fire

Summary: The aftermath of Simon Riley's paranoia has left the reader with an inner battle of holding onto her anger or making room for forgiveness.

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and torture, angst, cursing, hurt/no comfort.

Words: 1.3K

Part One

I wasn't planning on posting on this account except for that one off, but since a lot of people liked it, I'm down to give you guys more angst. So, enjoy. (Also, if you want to request anything be sure to message me.)

Whispers and lingering stares were a part of your day to day since you and Ghost got back from the extraction mission. The barracks were filled with theories, the team making assumptions to make sense of the bruising you wore like a collar around your neck. As if you were some damn dog, beaten into submission. You hated every second of being on display and serving as a symbol of what they thought had to have been insubordination.

She must’ve mouthed off to the Lieutenant.

Poor girl was probably put in her place. 

Because Simon Ghost Riley couldn’t do any wrong. Surely the woman must’ve misbehaved to deserve being put in a life-or-death situation by someone she trusted. You couldn’t calm the anger that stubbornly sat in your chest. You wanted to scream. You wanted him in the same position you were in. You wanted the fucking bruising to go away so everyone could stop talking about it, reducing you into a fucking victim.

You were a Goddamn soldier.

Ghost on the other hand had been quiet. Even more so than usual. You would catch his eyes roaming the patches of dark purple and blue he painted on your skin from time to time, turning away when he noticed you looking back at him, your expression stoic. You could sense the tension. The regret. The nasty gut feeling assumed to be guilt swallowing him whole. 

He’d never felt that way before.

It wasn’t a part of your lives. You got jobs done that would make any normal person weep for years. Trauma so consuming, veteran suicide rates were in increase and violent crimes committed by them going up as well. You had no room for guilt or regret. You were machines. It was in the job description, under the fine print. There wasn’t an option to dwell on things, it was either keep pushing or people could die in your line of work. 

Yet Ghost was stuck on that feeling.

And it was becoming harder to ignore. You saw the way his fingers twitched when you flinched from any sudden movement. The quietness that overtook the space when you stepped into any room he was in, like everything suddenly became too heavy to bear. You wanted to laugh from the bitterness of it all. This was the same man that had threatened your life. And for once, it seemed like the monster that made him who he was couldn’t hide behind the skull mask.

You couldn't decide which one was worse though. The silence or the moments you caught him struggling with himself and what he did. But the worst part. The thing that kept you up at night, tossing and turning in a bed that felt more like a grave… Was that you had started feeling sorry for him. For the way his dark eyes would catch yours when you least expected it, as if they were silently begging for forgiveness you didn’t know if you could offer him.

Maybe that was the worst part. There being a chance to be able to forgive, but never forget. Missing his touch and dreading it all the same. The way he tainted something both of you needed. Severing a conection both physical and emotional. Needing him and hating him. It was the same fight within yourself and it made you angry, until you began yearning again. Your own personal hell, a cage he viciously hand crafted to fit you.

I hate you, Ghost. 

It was a mantra. Maybe soon you would start to believe it.

But as night fell on the fourth night, the repetition wouldn’t preserve your sanity. The common area was eerily quiet, devoid of any operative in your wing. The faint hum of the overhead light was the only sound as you sat on the worn couch, eyes scanning the documents in your hands. They were sending you out again. A covert operation. Then, the bitter taste of reality hit you again as you saw his name typed out on the call sheet under personnel.

I hate you.

“I’m sorry.”

You jumped instictivley at the sound of his voice, your head jerking in his direction, slightly to your left, standing within the door frame. His words were clumsy, raw, but there was hesitation in his tone. Like he was scared. Scared of what he did, scared of what you thought of him now. The silence between you both stretched like a taut wire, brittle and poised to snap.

For a fleeting moment, something in your chest softened—a crack in the icy wall you’d built between the both of you. But it was brief. So brief. The softness evaporated almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the old familiar coil of tension in your gut. You straightened, pulling your walls back up.

“So, he speaks.”

“I didn’t want to push you,” he said, his gruff accent thick with something unspoken—uncertainty, regret? You weren’t sure anymore.

You laughed bitterly. “But choking me out is fine.”

Your words were sharp and unforgiving. A hard accusation that was meant to hit him in the chest. The tension was unbearable now, like the moment might snap any second. He didn’t move though, didn’t back down. But you saw it—his jaw tightening, his fists clenching at his sides, the way his eyes flickered to the ground. The frustration was there, the guilt too, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. He was struggling, you could see it.

He hesitated. “I fucked up.”

Raw. Unpolished.

But you weren’t so forgiving.

“You think?” You spat back, your voice filled with sarcasm, every word laced with the bitterness you couldn’t shake.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to excuse any of it. I was a paranoid motherfucker and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

His words landed heavier than you expected. You almost wanted to let you anger slip. To take the edge off, to relax into the moment, maybe even believe him. But you couldn’t. You’d betrayed yourself by awarding him with your forgiveness. Your nostrils flared at the turmoil you felt in your chest, your fingers digging into the documents in your hands with a fierce grip as you attempted to counterfocus the tightness.

“I don’t know what to do to make this right,” he confessed, knowing his words weren’t right. And they never could be. They didn’t carry the weight of what he had done. “I rarely ever apologize. If ever.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “So that should make me feel special?”

“Hardly,” he stated, wincing at your sarcasm, the impact of your words sinking into him like a punch. “I’ve made an even bigger mess of this. I can’t fix it. I know I can’t. I just—” 

—miss you.

You could almost hear it in the rawness of his voice, in the way he faltered. The silence was heavier with the words he didn’t dare utter hanging there. And that just made the anger swell in your chest. The more he held back, the more it stung, the more it fed your fury. The air felt thick around you. Heavy. Your breath shallow, your chest tight, and every beat of your pulse was a reminder of everything he had done. Everything he hadn’t done.

“Yeah?” You locked your gaze with him, the intensity in your eyes unflinching, your voice colder than you thought you could manage. It was steady, but laced with an undeniable edge. “Well, I fucking hate you, Ghost.”

The words slipped out, more venomous than you intended, but they felt good to say. They felt earned. You could see it in his eyes—the flicker of hurt, the way his shoulders slumped a fraction, as though your words physically struck him. But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to defend himself. He couldn’t. Not anymore.

The silence stretched, thick and unbearable, but it was better than what had come before. At least now there was nothing left to say.

Nothing left to break.

[iglowinggemma28]

Ok here me out! A time and dimension displaced Sam and Tucker! Who each lost their Danny +the other! Learned magic! (For Sam “normal or standard magic plus behaving the title of the Daughter of the Green) maybe she become the Dark Witch of the Green. And for tucker Pharaoh magic plus technology based abilities) both tried to avenge their friends and got labeled a villain for it!

So they disappeared into the ghost zone! Found the other. Learned that while they may not be the variant that they grew up with they’re still pretty close. And then realize if there’s time lines where they lost everyone….then they had to be at least one time line where A Danny survived but lost them. And have been hunting to find one since. Clockwork has had to constantly redirect these two so they wouldn’t find Dan pre redemption. As then Past Danny would have had no chance whatsoever!

But now that things are as stable as they’ve going to get. There’s a Jazz, Danny, Ellie and Dan( I vote he changes his name to Jordan as a tribute prior to Jazz showing up! Who then demands he keeps it so she’s not left out the the naming anymore! As well as a confused but supportive set of parents.

So they show up in all they’re dark glory and as soon as they see Danny (who doesn’t fight back because of shock) this leads to a chase that should end with Starfire finally showing up who has already read every text and update Dick has sent her.

Now the thing is Dark witch Sam and pharaoh tuck are messed up in the head. They both lost their Danny’s in different but equally tragic ways. So they’re border line Yandere’s at this point. (It can be romantic or platonic) So when they find out that this timeline has 2 Danny’s that have each lost and grieved their variants they HAVE to stay. Ok time to pull out the waterworks….

Finally they explain they’re from timelines/dimensions where they were the last person standing and got blamed and vilified for their grief over losing there loved ones. And that the original plan was find a Danny who has lost their variants and take him with them before anyone can hurt him like what happened in their timelines. But now that they see there’s a jazz, Ellie and a Jordan here they can’t possibly take him! They look up at Starfire. Who’s glaring at the 2 maybe villains holding her sons kinda hostage. (Kinda being the operative word as her sons are each desperately clinging to one.) but before she can try to get them to safety. They start crying.

W-we’re so SORRY! We just wanted to protect him because we were too weak to do it before! In their timelines Their danny’s got hurt really bad! Hell one timeline it was His parents who hurt him! But this isn’t what their Danny’s’ would have wanted they see that now! Please can they stay? They can be heroes! Help out they innocent! All for the low low price of not being separated from Jordan and Danny! Please! Just give us a chance!!!!!!!!!!!

Dick who has finally caught up really wants to say no. But Jordan abd Danny are clinging to them and flashing the most pathetic wet kitten eyes he has ever seen!!!!!!!!! He looks at his daughters who are also looking at him with teary eyes…..fine you can stay but your on thin ice understand! Both of you are going to under surveillance and he’s going to have since a magical contract that outlines the rules! (This won’t backfire….right?)

Thoughts! 

Future Son????

It has been a while since I have done an original prompt. So DCxDP prompt #2

Danny gets into a fight with Impulse/Bart about Bart changing the timeline messing things up for Danny and effectively erasing his family, because the change made it so Maddie and Jack never got together. But because of Clockwork sending him on a mission to the past while Bart changed the timeline and the medallion Dan had phased into Danny he remembers the old timeline. Also he has access to his powers but for some reason can’t change into ghost form.

This fight happens in front of the rest of the young justice team. And Nightwing was coming there to teach a training lesson and over hears half of what Danny is shouting.

From Dick’s point of view there is a black haired, blue eyed kid with powers that are suspiciously like a Tamuraneans, yelling at Bart about losing his family because his parents never got together. Also Dick and Kori had recently broken up. (Feel free to make up a reason.)

Due to a misunderstanding Dick is going to help his time displaced “son” adjust to the new reality.

Do I tag people too much? @azulhood @bianca-hooks123 @bloggerspam @confusedshades @dragonsrequiem @evilminji @flamingpudding @fightmebissh @ghostbsuter @hypewinter @help-itrappedmyself @hdgnj @kizzer55555 @menolly5600 @ourrechte-blog @puppetmaster13u @rboooks @starlightcat04 @stormikitty @virgamsysxvolumes @zeestarfishalien @zylev-blog

[pukefactory]

I'm not sure if you take twisted!reader requests, but if you do. Then could I request platonic Twisted!user who is surprisingly chill and non-violent with RnD?

Hehe, of course! This is such an adorable concept, and I had a lot of fun writing it. I ended up making it a headcanon post instead of a short story because I had too many ideas for just one scenario—I hope that’s alright!

────༺ LIFEJAM ༻────

ᗢ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring RnD with a Twisted reader

ᗢ Character(s): Razzle and Dazzle (Dandy’s World)

ᗢ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

ᗢ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⟢ When they first encounter you, RnD are terrified, just as they would be with any other Twisted. However, when they realize you mean no harm, they lower their defenses and attempt to communicate. Razzle does his best to speak with you, while Dazzle remains hesitant, voicing his concerns—though Razzle quickly dismisses them, albeit with some uncertainty of his own. Yet, due to your unexpectedly calm nature, they both gradually relax the more Razzle interacts with you.

⟢ Eventually, you wander off, leaving RnD to fill the ichor machines alone. As they work, they catch a glimpse of you chasing another toon around the area. They immediately stop and rush to their friend’s aid, but the moment you spot them, you halt, simply staring at RnD before turning around and walking away once more—leaving them, and everyone else, even more confused than before.

⟢ After finishing with their respective machines, RnD begins searching the area for items for themselves and their teammates. During their venture, they are intercepted by you, who nonchalantly hands them a box of bandages without a word. Before they can thank you, you walk off, only to return moments later with a first aid kit just for them. Finally, they get the chance to express their gratitude. Though you simply nod in response before scurrying away again, the pair remain very thankful for your help—even if they find you a bit perplexing.

⟢ Actually, you may go a bit overboard when giving RnD items. While you do hand them useful supplies, you also give them anything you come across—chocolate bars, candy, sodas—just whatever happens to be lying around. You provide so much in such a short time that they eventually have to start stacking everything in a corner. The rest of the toons are frustrated that you’ve left them with nothing, not even a single item. However, at least they can rely on RnD for whatever they need, and your constant gift-giving keeps you distracted, allowing them to work on their machines in peace.

⟢ Once the floor is nearly cleared of items, RnD decides to keep you occupied and away from the other toons by showing you what you’ve given them. They attempt to explain what each item is, which ones they prefer, and which they don’t. Though this was originally meant as a distraction, the pair soon become engrossed in their one-sided conversation while you calmly listen, occasionally responding with muffled groans. It’s nice to have someone who listens.

⟢ Just because you get along with RnD doesn’t mean the other Twisteds do. If another Twisted tries to attack them, you immediately become hostile, chasing them off and, in some cases, even attacking them. You take on the role of RnD’s personal protector, driving away any threats that come their way. They appreciate your vigilance—at least until you start turning your attention toward the toons. At that point, RnD has to quickly find a way to distract you before you can harm their friends.

⟢ When it’s time to leave, RnD feels conflicted about abandoning you but ultimately knows they have no choice. As they depart, guilt lingers, and they briefly consider finding a way to bring you along—until they realize you would be a danger to the other toons. That’s okay, though, because they can always visit, and they do! You may not be much for conversation, but you’re kind, protective, and always ready to help when needed. Even if you’re not who you once were, RnD still cares about you deeply—and that means something.

[faerygrant]

sympathy is a knife - carmen berzatto x reader

Couldn’t even be her if I tried, I’m opposite I’m on the other side.

notes: being with carmen means facing his family, whom of which are still ardent on him being with his ex girlfriend, Claire. [angst, swearing, crazy Donna]

It was no secret to you that the Carmen’s family thought he had settled for less when he decided to marry you. Sure you’d gone to college, had experience and a job you loved, but that was nothing compared to what they expected for their precious golden boy. They all had their minds set on him being with his (kind of) high-school girlfriend, whom he himself struggled to acknowledge as such. The disapproval was intensified when you and he had both come to the agreement that you’d stop working and instead focus on yourself and the well being of the incoming Berzatto you were carrying.

—

Most times you could ignore the subtle frowns of disapproval you’d receive from his family members during dinners, like when they’d ask what you did for a living and you’d simply tell them you’d been a teacher. Or when you’d told them you were expecting and that the two of you were floating the idea of you not returning to work after the 9 months. However it always seemed to sting a little worse when it came from non other than your mother in law, Mrs. Donna Berzatto. Who never failed to make it known, and almost her personal mission to belittle, humble and berate you any chance she got. Which was not often, as Carmen was hellbent on keeping you and himself away from her.

Tonight however was different, the two of you couldn’t find any excuse to get yourselves out of the family gathering, seeing as it was the 5 year anniversary of Michael’s death. You had no choice but to throw on your most modest maternity outfit and drag yourselves to Donna’s. Carmen kept a tight hand on your thigh throughout the entire drive there, a silent reminder that he was there and he was not going to allow you to be disrespected.

“Y’know I’m not gonna let her give you shit right?” Carmen turns from the road to look at you, his face genuine.

“I know, but I don’t want this to be about me, today’s about Mikey and you and the bond he and you and the rest of the family shared.” You squeeze his hand tightly, wanting to keep it together for him, it’s the least you could do, seeing as this was the closest thing he’d get to Mikey’s funeral.

—

As the car arrived in-front of the brownstone, you could see a lineup of familiar cars and your stomach lurched into anxiety. Anxiety that Carmen sensed right away. “Honey, if you don’t want to go in there, you say it right now and we’re leaving.” He puts the car in park and turns his body, completely facing you. His beautiful face framed by his curls and his piercing blue eyes boring holes into yours.

“Carm, stop worrying about me Kay? I’ll be fine, I’ve dealt with Donna’s stuff before and if she tries anything, then we can leave, I promise I’ll tell you if I wanna leave.” He smiles and nods in agreement of your words, trusting that you’ll keep your promise. He quickly places a kiss on your forehead and then places his hand on your stomach, giving it a gentle squeeze, before he’s unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you out of the car.

—

The aroma of ragu, antipastos and the burning of an oven were the first things to hit you as soon as you landed into the door of the home. The second was the buzzing of chatter and conversation that you believed was coming from the dining and living areas. Carmen shut the door behind him and held onto the small of your back as you two made your way into the salon. Here you were met with a horde of familiar faces, from the Faks to Richie and sweet Pete. Everyone was quick to bombard the two of you with questions, hugs and conversation. In the midst of a conversation with Richie, your attention is taken away when you hear Sugar walking into the dining area with a hot dish in hand. You smile right at her, but your face falls when you see who it is she was engaged in conversation with, right behind her.

—

“I’m happy that finally my family cares enough to come together for something that matters to me, it matters a lot. I’m just h-happy that my baby boy Carmen is here, I missed him a lot.” Donna concludes after an almost 10 minute long speech that had not much to do with her dead son, but instead was full of jabs and digs at the people sitting at the table. Your eyes were focused on your lap, Carmen’s hand instinctively resting on your stomach, and Claire’s eyes trained on the two of you the entire time. If it weren’t for the pregnancy heat flashes, you’d of believed she was boring lasers into you.

Nonetheless, the dinner continues and while the wine, conversation and food continue to flow, the air of awkwardness is evident, especially considering Richie and the Faks’ rare silence about the elephant in the room. “Carm, I invited Claire here because I remember how sweet on her you were.” Donna says sardonically, followed by a huge gulp of red wine. The entire table inaudibly wince at her words and Claire smiles at Carmen in turn. “Good to see you again Bear, your mom says the restaurants doing good.” She smiles at him, hand methodically placed under her chin and he nods politely, thanking her.

“You must be Bears partner, lovely to meet you.” Claire smiles at you, the grin in-genuine , hardly even an attempt.

“I am, it’s nice to meet you too Claire.” You force out the pleasantries, not wanting to come off as bitter, but the fire inside you is raging and you want to scream.

“You know sweet Claire is a doctor, she’s doing so good for herself, I wish you’d go on a date with her get to know her.” Donna whispers the last part, but the damage is done.

“Y/n’s a teacher you know, so in a way you’re both doing jobs where you help people.” Sweet Pete chimes in, bless his heart.

“Oh please, Claire is actually saving lives, not teaching woke literature to highschool children.” Another dig at you from Donna, that’s not so subtle.

“Ma, another shitty comment and we’re out of here.” Carmen says, really trying to calm himself, earning him a nod of approval from Richie.

“Ofcourse she has you threatening your own mother.” Donna rolls her eyes, ever the queen of finding new ways to shift blame to you.

“Congratulations on your pregnancy, I heard you’re expecting a girl?” This time it was Claire, but before you answer Donna’s cutting you off to make another comment.

“Remember when Carm and Claire used to date in junior high, aww I always thought they’d make great babies, I mean she’s got the looks and the height, can’t say the same for all.”

“MOM!” Sugar yells out, offended at her mother’s hateful remarks towards you.

“What the fuck ma?” Carmy groans, as he watches you get up from your chair and waddle to the front door.

—

You’re sat on the stairs of the brownstone, hysterical when Carmen finds you. “I fucking knew she’d do this shit, please don’t cry.” He wraps himself around you and your burry your face into his chest.

“Y’know none of what she says is true yeah?

“But what if it is Carmen? What if you settled for me, I’m not successful like her and I’m not an all Italian girl like your family wants me to be. She’s near perfect and I’m just me.”

“Y’think I give a fuck about that shit?” He looks genuinely bewildered.

“You don’t?” You sniffle as you ask.

“Fuck no, I don’t care about money or a job, just care about you, you’re my girl, perfect f’me, all I’ve ever wanted.” He runs his thumb against the tear that had just begun its descent down your cheek.

“Y’gonna stop crying now and let me take you home? He stands up, dusting off his workwear pants before he’s reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Yeah.” You sniffle, before getting up with his aid.

“I love you for you, you know that?” He asks as he holds your hand, guiding you into the car and buckling you back in and you nod and smile so sweetly.

[goshikisbaee]

Let me be here for you

[ Akaashi x reader ]

Content: Fluff, emotional vulnerability, hurt/comfort, panic attack

———

Akaashi has always been the steady one. The calm in the storm.

It was his voice, his choice of words that grounded Bokuto when he spiraled, his presence that steadied his teammates when things felt uncertain. He was reliable, level headed, and in control.

That’s why it was so startling to see him like this.

You had found him in his room, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, knees drawn up, fingers tangled in his hair. His breaths were uneven—too fast, too shallow. His shoulders trembled with each inhale, and his chest rose and fell like he was struggling to pull in enough air.

“Akaashi?” Your voice was soft, careful.

His head snapped up, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he had even realized you were there. His usual composed expression was gone, replaced by wide, unfocused eyes, his lips slightly parted as he tried to regulate his breathing.

You had never seen him like this before.

Immediately, you moved closer, sinking to the floor in front of him, keeping enough distance so he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

“Keiji,” you tried again, gentler this time. “You’re having a panic attack.”

His fingers curled tighter into his hair. His mouth opened like he wanted to speak, but no words came out.

Your heart ached. He’s always the one taking care of everyone else… when was the last time someone took care of him?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, voice steady even as your own heart clenched at the sight of him like this. “You’re safe. Just focus on me, okay?”

You reached out, slowly, giving him the chance to pull away if he needed to. But he didn’t. Instead, his fingers hesitantly found yours, gripping onto them like a lifeline.

“Good,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “Breathe with me, alright? In for four…”

You took a slow, exaggerated inhale, holding eye contact with him, making sure he was following.

“Hold for four…”

Akaashi’s chest still rose too fast, but his grip on your hand tightened as he tried to mimic your rhythm.

“And out for four.”

He exhaled shakily, his shoulders still tense, but his breathing was less frantic now, more controlled.

“That’s it,” you soothed, rubbing slow circles over his knuckles with your thumb. “You’re doing great.”

Minutes passed like that—his breathing still uneven but steadier, his grip still firm but no longer desperate. His fingers untangled from his hair, and he let his head drop forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

You didn’t move, just let him stay there, one hand threading through his soft hair, the other still holding onto his.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a while, voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head immediately. “Don’t be.”

Akaashi swallowed, his breath warm against your skin. “It’s just… I don’t know why this is happening. It’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you said firmly. “You take care of everyone else, Keiji. That doesn’t mean you have to hold everything in all the time.”

He exhaled slowly, pressing just a little closer. “I don’t like feeling like this.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

For a long moment, there was silence—just the sound of his breathing, the weight of him against you, the warmth of your hands still linked together.

Finally, Akaashi pulled back slightly, his eyes clearer now, though still tired.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice soft but sincere.

You smiled, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Always.”

And you meant it.

———

[esotericfaeryfeminism]

I do think women tend to look strange (like aliens) or ugly with makeup on.

What I find really sad, is the ones who are so used to wearing it all the time, that they've destroyed their skin and now they wear makeup to not look like they're wearing makeup.

Young women, please just don't wear makeup in the first place. Don't start yourself into this obsessive, expensive habit of pandering to patriarchy, and giving yourself health problems that go beyond bad skin. Men aren't worth that, and you're worth so much more.

Most men (even if "only" subconsciously) view women who wear makeup as performing for them the way porn actors and prostitutes do.

I'd rather be considered ugly to everyone, than a desired rape victim.

While of course all of the blame for all rape lies with the rapist, that doesn't mean we have to make ourselves look like we're trying to attract them.

And, not that I would ever recommend that even straight women should take a chance on creatures with such high crime stats, but if you're going to keep dating them, cultivate your confidence in other ways. Learn new hobbies, sports if you want (but definitely self-defense) & muscle up. Read books or listen to podcasts about whatever interests you, to grow your mind too.

Do it for YOU primarily, and learn all of the red flags. The first time a red flag appears, don't be like me for decades and try to justify it with stuff other women have told you about how, "men are just like that".

Get toys if your hands bore you, and fantasize about fictional men. Your pleasure is always more important anyway. One of many reasons for why women are superior is that we're blessed with the easy ability to have multiple orgasms without penetration. There's never any need to deliberately risk pregnancy, as condoms break.

Before I realized I was (the original and real definition) of asexual (for those who think it only happens due to abuse, I have secretly known I had no real sexual attractions to others before I experienced sexual abuse), I felt deeply flawed because I wasn't attracted to anyone. I spent years trying to fake it til I made it by having a few relationships with men. Because that's what all people are brainwashed from birth to do. This is similar to how lesbians and gays have beards, because society is not designed to meet their needs with the equal compassion which they deserve.

However, as we're living in a world of people with sex drives which are aligned towards others, my view is unique in that I naturally (and healthily) lack the drive to attract a partner.

I do appreciate that most women are not asexual, and so there are more driven and easily programmed reasons for why many continue to pander to patriarchy, or mask as non-radfems by wearing makeup.

I think as women we should all try to consider that people may have valid reasons for that behaviour. Maybe where they live they get less (or no) unwanted male attention for masking through wearing makeup.

Makeup-obsessed girl: You have nice skin. What's your routine?

Me: Hot water and soap.

Makeup-obsessed girl: ...Oh. Have you ever thought of just using eye makeup? I can show you the best type of concealer and best colours for you.

Me: No thanks.

Makeup-obsessed girl: Come on, are you sure? You said you're single, well, you want to stand out, right?

Me: No. I'm happy single.

Makeup-obsessed girl: ...What about your eye-brows? I know a quick -

Me: I said no thanks. I think everyone looks better without makeup. Wear it if you want, even though it's unhealthy because it ages skin and contains harmful chemicals linked to health problems. I see no reason to be ashamed of my natural face, and I don't care that some people think I'm ugly. Nature is beauty and as a part of nature, I'm beautiful.

~

The brainwashing to tow the line for patriarchy is sad in all kinds of ways. Usually when I have this kind of conversation, the other woman reacts as if I'm being rude for stating a preference and trying to prompt her to research the harmful effects of makeup.

And if I thought it was a friendship that was developing, then it goes nowhere.

The wild animals who coercively rape them are fawned over, yet the rest of us women who don't sacrifice our own dignity to fit in and put our throats up for men to slice, are discarded.

[kirain]

Emmrich giving Rook her first kiss? 😶

I've never written so much romance in my life! I have been absolutely blown away by the requests and everyone's kind words, especially since this is such uncharted territory for me. I tried to keep this in line with the canonical first kiss in game.

I hope it delivers!

The moon hung heavy in the sky, its silver beams spilling through the garden where Vae and Emmrich stood. The evening air carried the scent of night-blooming flowers, a heady perfume that wrapped around them like a song. The peace, the romance—the temptation.

A sense of unease pricked at the back of Vae's mind. Her hands wrung together, a nervous habit Emmrich had rarely seen but fully understood. Her blue eyes, lidded and uncertain, briefly met his before darting away, as if ashamed. He could feel the hesitation in the space between them—the weight of something unspoken, something fragile.

"Vae?" he hummed, his voice kind, coaxing.

She swallowed before trying to speak, her words crumbling in defiance.

They had been dancing around their feelings for weeks, maybe months. Every glance, every lingering touch, every amorous word had built up to this moment of perfection. But now, her face lit by the stars, Emmrich could see it—ambivalence. The way her breath hitched in her throat, the way she swayed ever so slightly towards him, but didn't dare take that final step.

"You've never been kissed before."

It wasn't a question. She had told him she'd never been intimate, but he assumed that, at least—perhaps when she was younger—there might have been a boy who wooed her. Some friend or classmate who, in a moment of awkward, hormonal bliss, took something she was equally willing to give. A simple kiss and nothing more.

"No," she admitted, her blush deepening. "Not by anyone."

Emmrich's gaze softened, his usual sharp confidence tempered by something indispensable. He reached out, slowly, delicately, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn't. Instead, she let him trace his fingers along the curve of her jaw, his touch light and reverent.

"You don't have to," he said, and she could tell he meant it. "We never have to, if you don't think you can bear it."

"I..." She paused, a tremor in her voice. "I do want to. I just... don't know how."

A persuasive smile tugged at the older man's lips, his dominant hand finding her waist. "Then let me show you."

Vae's breath caught as he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against hers. His fingers swept over her cheek, until his whole hand settled there, the touch so gentle it sent a shiver down her spine. She liked it, and that was all the incentive he needed, his thumb ghosting over her lower lip.

"Emmrich," she gasped, the sensation new and exciting.

"Just breathe," he purred. "I see you, my darling."

His eyes, fervent but steady, held hers with a quiet patience. There was no demand in them, no expectation—only the promise of something she could choose, if she wanted.

She did want.

She let herself melt into his touch, basking in the way he looked at her—like she was his whole world, precious beyond comprehension. Her legs shuddered.

"What if I'm bad at it?"

Smoothly, as if rehearsed, Emmrich asked, "Have you forgotten I'm a professor?" He grinned, his tone laced with a reassurance that told her she could never disappoint him. "I'll teach you."

"Emmrich..."

"Vae."

He whispered her name like a secret, and she closed her eyes at the sound. Slowly—agonisingly slow—he dipped his head, the kiss nigh. Inevitable. Yet he paused, hovering so close, offering her one last chance to pull away. Instead, she lifted her chin with an earned trust, her silent invitation sending a needy ache through his chest.

Finally, his lips pressed against hers with an exquisite tenderness, careful and unhurried. He didn't demand, didn't take—he simply gave. A brush, a breath, a gentle push that sent heat spiraling through her body. Her hands, unsure where to go, moved to the collar of his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric, and he moaned, approving yet restrained, holding back for her sake.

Then, he stepped back, only to capture her expression—to make sure she was comfortable. To his delight, her eyes held nothing but desire.

"What a day of unexpected splendor."

To show her how this could be.

Of pure ecstasy.

He dove back in, bringing his lips to her neck before roaming back to her mouth. He poured all his love and devotion into every ministration, hoping to reach the depths of her soul. Then, he lingered, giving her a moment to adjust, to take it all in, before he deepened the kiss just enough to fuel her hunger.

He wanted more—so much more, but he let her set the pace, let her explore the taste of his lips; guiding her, showing her. As she relaxed against the altar behind her, his hand slid back, fingers threading through her hair, cradling her as though she might collapse.

"Mmph..." Vae shivered, the kiss unraveling something inside her she hadn't known was wound so tightly.

A small sound escaped her, and Emmrich felt it—a spark of something untamed, just beneath the surface. He broke away again to meet her gaze, his fingers exploring the elegant contours of her face before gliding down to her shoulders, ready to draw her back in if she willed it.

"How was that, my darling?" he teased, his voice soft as velvet. "A worthy first time?"

Vae's heart raced, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, her cheeks blazing. She could still feel him, her lips tingling with the impression of his own. For a moment, she feared she'd float away, anchored only by his sensual grip. Then, she stared at him, enraptured by the memory, a shy smile his reward.

"...Again?" was all she could manage.

Emmrich chuckled. "As often as you like."

This time, it was her who leaned in first.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Cater Diamond - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Courtyard]

Cater: Whew～ Today's Alchemy class was a real brain wiggler. What class do I got next… Hm?

Cater: Hey… Is that you Leona-kun? Woah, that's a surprise, are you just getting out of class too?

Leona: Shut your trap already… It's got nothing to do with you, Cater.

Cater: No, no, I just wanted to give you the drop on a bit of info. Do you know what tomorrow is?

Cater: You see, it's YA BOI CAY-KUN'S BIRTHDAY ♪

Leona: Oh. Good for you.

Cater: NO REACTION!? I mean, I guess I knew that was coming～

Cater: Shoulda known it wouldn't be easy to get a warm birthday greeting from ol' Leona-kun.

Leona: What nonsense are you spouting? I just did.

Cater: What, you mean when you said "good for you"? C'mon, you just threw that out there 'cause you had to～

Cater: If you're gonna say something, you gotta put more heart into it, not just toss me a few words here and there ♪

Leona: Your birthday's tomorrow, ain't it? I couldn't possibly be rude and wish you a happy birthday the day before all your fellow housemates have a chance to…

Leona: So, bye.

[Leona leaves]

Cater: There he goes again, spouting off whatever… Well, guess I should just consider myself lucky that we got to hold a convo and he didn't just ignore me.

Cater: Alrighty, then. Looks like my next class is Animal Linguistics. I got a feeling I'm gonna get called on today, so I should prep for it.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Hallway]

Cater: Woah, it's that delicious!? I wanna go right away… Oh, but I don't think I'll be able to until after next month.

Cater: Yeaaah, I did terrible on the last Magical History exam～ …Saaame, I wish those tests weren't basically one bit puzzle.

Cater: And also… Oh, we're already back to our rooms. Okay, night～

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Cater's Room]

Cater: …Whew, finally I'm back.

Cater: I wasn't able to check Magicam while I was in the shower, so I should do that now.

Cater: Oh, looks like some of my old posts are getting likes too. I'm glad people are still seeing what I posted ages ago.

Cater: There's a few comments, too… Ugh, this question is waaay too long.

Cater: Not to mention, half of what they're saying has nothing to do with their question, they're just gabbing on about themselves. Ugggh… It's gonna be a pain to respond…

Cater: But if I leave it for later, I'll want to reply even less～ Guess I should give 'em a response ASAP then.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Cater's Room]

Cater: "Except, that eye mask was a limited-time item, so if it's already sold out, sorry." …And, send. Was that all of them?

Cater: Whew～ I finally finished responding to everything. Guess now I can go check out everyone else's posts.

[phone pings]

Cater: Huh, who's post is this on trending right… Hey, it's that one guy! I can't believe they got a cat.

Cater: "Your cat looks so soft and suuuuper cute～! Can't wait for more pictures!"

[phone pings]

Cater: Ooh, I like the picture of this guitar. I wanna try customizing like this, too.

Cater: "I can't believe you did all this yourself! I'd love to see the play-by-play of how you made it next time."

[phone pings]

Cater: What else is there…? Oh, hey, I've heard of this Magicammer before. Looks like their video giving a tour of their room is hot right now.

Cater: Woah, that's hella cute! Both the floor and wallpaper are done up so meticulously. The entire room's been designed to mesh well with everything～!

Cater: The little trinkets they have scattered around their room are also all the rage right now, so they might be a good reference to keep in mind. I'll give them a follow.

Cater: Maaan, I wish I had a cute, pastel room like this. I bet they get tons of likes.

Cater: Oh, yeah. I kinda left it 'cause I didn't really have anything to say, but… Guess I could write a suggestion here.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Cater: It's been more or less smooth-sailing ever since I got a single room, so I didn't think I'd really have any complaints…

Cater: But this place is a bit too chic for the kinds of photos I want to post on Magicam. Maybe it's more accurate to say it's cute in an old-fashioned way?

Cater: The colors in the room are more on the darker side, which makes the videos come out too dark…

Cater: And it's a pain always having to lug out my photography equipment each time. I'll just write "I want more attractive walls and floors."

Cater: Honestly, I'd love to be able to do a room tour or a day-in-the-life routine video...

Cater: But I bet there'd be a ton of trouble I could get into when it comes to everyone's privacy if I'm shooting in and around the dorm, so that'd probably be impossible while I'm still attending school.

Cater: Mmkay, then… I'm already ready for bed, so I guess I'll just go to sleep early, ready to tackle the day tomorrow.

[fwumps into bed]

Cater: What time should I set my alarm for…? Oh, there's already a reply on my comment from earlier.

Cater: I should probably respond right away since they were also quick with it, huh… Hmm…

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Cater's Room]

[alarm rings]

Cater: Mmm… Mrrrnngh… Is it morning already…?

Cater: Yawn… What time did I even fall asleep last night?

Cater: I think I was replying to a comment I got wishing me a happy birthday right at midnight… Did I fall asleep in the middle of that?

Cater: Looks like a got a lot more comments after that, too. I need to respond… But before that, there's something else I need to do today.

Cater: Can't just laze about here! I need to go to the washroom and wash my face ASAP!

Cater: My face is washed, and I did my skin care routine… So, let's get started!

Cater: The photography lights are turned on, the reflector board is adjusted, and my phone is on the tripod…

Cater: The plushes in the background are… Good, they're settled nicely on the bed.

Cater: There's nothing in the shot that shouldn't be. Perf, time to start the video!

[phone pings]

Cater: Hey-o everyone, it's Cay-kun! Today, I'm going to show off some base makeup items that's been my go-to these days.

Cater: First up… Here's the UV primer that just came out on the first of this month! I know this has been all the rage lately.

Cater: I've been using this every day since I bought it the day it came out ♪

Cater: And you know what's the best thing about this primer…? It's got no reflective shine at all!

Cater: It's got a nice toning effect, and I think it works well with just a little bit of powder on days when you don't really need to spruce yourself up too much.

Cater: I've fallen in love with it, 'cause whenever I wanna take a pic on the fly, all I have to do is dab a little here and there with a tissue and it looks like I did myself up in proper makeup ♪

Cater: Aaand it rolls on so smoothly, too. I'll apply some now to show you what I mean, so keep your eyes on the screen!

[phone pings]

Cater: …Nice, video done.

Cater: I'll snap a few pictures in the afternoon during break and put together a comparison picture, then edit the video… I guess I'll be able to upload it the day after tomorrow.

Cater: I still have to think about some other stuff like the background music, but I should focus on finishing my makeup for now.

Cater: It's my birthday, so I think I'm leaning towards using some of my more cuter cosmetics… Oh, I know.

Cater: I found it! Here's the glitter eyeliner that I got as a part of that limited-edition holiday cosmetic set!

Cater: Both the package it came in and the glitter itself is waaaaay too cute. I'll draw the line with this, and snap a pic to see…

[snap!]

Cater: Nice, I can see the glitter glimmering around my eye. This'll give my birthday photos a little bit of a different feel from usual.

Cater: As for my hair… Eh, I guess it's going a little too far if I did something with that too. I'll just massage in a little bit of wax and just set it like usual…

Cater: Perf, looks good. Hmmm… I still have a bit of time, so I guess I'll reply to all the birthday comments I got earlier.

Cater: I still need to record a birthday video, and I bet there'll be a party, or at least a get-together with the Pop Music Club...

Cater: Eheheh, I can't wait. I think I'll have enough content to upload to Magicam for a while!

[Main Street]

[Cater chats with everyone]

Cater: Yaay, thanks everyone! …Hm?

Cater: Who's that I spy walking over there…? Oh, hey, it's Leona-kun!

Leona: Cater…! Tch, what'd I do to be this unlucky?

Cater: Ehhh, you really gonna act like that in front of the birthday boooy?

Cater: So, anywaaaay… Remember how you said yesterday that you couldn't possibly be rude and wish me well the day before my birthday?

Cater: Which meeeeeans… Since we've met the day oooooof…

Leona: Yeah, yeah, you don't gotta tell me twice. …......Happy birthday.

Cater: Ahahah, I really got you of all people to wish me a happy birthday! This is gonna be a great year!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[genderqueerdykes]

Wow. Talk about having a shit experience. Why is people explicitly keep saying not to tag their aro or ace post as aroace.

Why why why am I not valid anymore? Can I really not be aro and ace anymore? Can I not open the tag and say "ahh aroace me is so related with this post" anymore? What is it??

It feels fucking shitty seeing community that barely get mention in big queer space like this. Gatekeeping their post and experience to the "right" identity only.

If you someone that do this please stop. I just want to see positive post about my aroace identity. Heck anything about Loveless Aplatonic Afamilial barely get talk about and they don't gatekeep their post from aroaces because what's the point?

this is a great ask, i really appreciate you taking the time to stop by & share your experience, anon. this is something i've noticed within the past few years and i've wanted to talk about it, so thank you for giving me a chance to do so

i've seen 2 excuses for this behavior and they're both terrible and only hurt other people and serve as a method to control strangers.

the first way people try to excuse this behavior is by saying "well I'M not aroace, therefore the post isn't for aroaces!!!!! it's ONLY for JUST aromantics or JUST asexuals not both!!!!!" i have gotten yelled at this before as well. like, profusely. over tags. i feel like people should NOT take a stranger's tags personally. even if they tagged it something you don't agree with or don't like... that's kinda not really your business. this particular behavior stems from people who neurotically check their reblogs/interactions, and it's not healthy.

if you find yourself scrutinizing every single interaction and reblog you get on this website, it might be a good idea to reduce the amount of time you spend on social media, because you quite literally cannot control what people do with a post once you post it. you're at the mercy of god at that point. like i cannot stress this enough: You CANNOT control what strangers do with a post once it's published. these are PUBLIC FORUMS. tumblr is not a private club where only the people you like interact with you. it's a public space. you gotta learn to cope with the fact that other people will interact with your posts in ways you don't like. i don't like it when rad fems interact with my posts, but i also can't stop them from doing so unless i already have them blocked, because they also have free will and a tumblr account.

the second excuse for this behavior i have seen is definitely the worse of the two. people will say that "aroaces get TOO much representation!" or things like "everyone ASSUMES you have to be aro if you're ace/ace if you're aro which isn't true and i take very personally which gives me an excuse to bully aroaces!!!!!!!!" like it legit comes from people thinking that somehow, aroaces are "over represented". the behavior stems from the OP feeling literally attacked by aroaces existing and feeling like they're somehow talking over aromantic people who experience sexual attraction, or like they're somehow talking over asexual people who experience romantic attraction.

people seem to have forgotten that aroace people are STILL ARO. THEY'RE STILL ACE. you can't sit here and go "well i'm mad that 'too many' people know about aroace people so i'm going to harrass aroace people like they're the ones making my life harder and not cisheternormative society." also it's disgusting because a lot of asexuals quite literally believe that aromanticism doesn't exist, and that the term came about to "rip off" asexuals. it's the "transandrophobia doesn't exist because it threatens trans women" argument but with aspectrum identities.

it legitimately causes you NO HARM if your post about just asexuality or just aromancitism is tagged as aroace. they are not saying YOU are aroace! they're tagging it that way for themselves, because they are aroace!!!!!!!!!!!! aroace people are aromantic! aroace people are asexual! stop with this weird gatekeeping and acting like posts tagged just aromantic or just asexual are for people who are ONLY aro or ONLY ace. this shit is hurting people. like i cannot get over the fact that aroace people are. aro. and. ace. and somehow people freak the ever loving fuck out about a mean nasty aroace making them feel bad for.... also being aromantic and asexual ?

like your experience matters. you don't deserve to be told that you can't interact with posts about aromanticism or asexuality because you're both of those things and somehow that's threatening aromantics and asexuals who aren't both. you are still aromantic. you are still asexual. you aren't hurting or threatening anyone. you deserve to be seen and heard, and you shouldn't have to specifically stick to JUST the "aroace" tag and nothing else. i DON'T understand this behavior.

honestly a lot of it smacks of arophobia on the behalf of asexuals and acephobia on the behalf of aromantics. it blows. it's not cool or cute or funny it's hurting people.

this attitude sucks. as the anon said, please stop this. it's unnecessary and petty infighting for no reason. aroace people are not a threat to other aromantic and asexual people. stop treating other people like shit for no reason other than you are insecure and angry about it. nobody is saying YOU are aroace if they tag your post about aromanticism or asexuality with "aroace". they're doing it for themselves. knock it off.

[jealousmartini]

Reality shifting and My kind of love

Thinking about shifting and how I have too much love to give just for one life and how shifting has shown me an open door into a world of opportunities for me to show my eternal love and not just to have it overlooked. I'm a motherly lover, some would call the mother friend. So I have a craving to show my loved ones a personal kind of love that makes non-believers believe in love again.

Because all I've ever done in this life is want to show my love for my family; my loved ones, what I have to offer but never been able to its full extent because I feel too closed off, too over-looked and too misunderstood to really express all my love to them.

It's the kind that is honest, understanding, and is forgiving. It's the type of love that seeks to understand more than it does winning in an argument.

It is nurturing, it is kind, and it is selfless, but it is also vengeful, it is just, and it is unapologetic.

It is light-hearted, it is playful, and it is passionate and It is affectionate and accommodating, and it is comforting. It is that kind of love that is unfiltered and real. So it doesn't hide who they are, and it definitely doesn't try to change who you are either. It's the kind of love that lets you be you completely and naturally and quickly matches your energy. But it corrects you when you know you're in the wrong because it takes no bullshit

It is the kind of love that prioritises words of affirmation, physical affection, quality time, and acts of service. So although it has its own unique combination way of showing love it still finds ways to adjusts itself to better suit the loved one without thinking twice.

— It mentally and literally takes notes of your habits, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes, your special interests, what pisses you off and what calms you down and it immediately but subtly starts catering to your unspoken needs. It is attentive and observant so it immediately notices and remembers the smallest details about you. Subtly because it doesn't want to startle you or make you feel smothered and exposed.

— It loves to do simple gestures like sending you a good morning text, asking you about your day, did you have a goodnight sleep? If not, what was holding you up so late? It'll take pictures and buy things for you because "it reminded me of you". It loves to make your life a little easier by remembering things you most likely forgot, keeping an extra batch of essentials just for you and brings those snacks you love that you mentioned once.

— It has a habit of referring to you with cute petnames and nicknames based on what it recognises you for. It is a suckered for teasing but knows when to knock it off. It loves to spend time with you, it loves to listen to you, and it loves to just be in your presence even if you dont want to talk. Its presence is warm, inviting, and reliable; in the sense that it believes comfortable silence is so precious and important, and it knows how to make the anticapated awkward tension after a conversation between us slip. without even saying a word.

It's that type of love that leaves no room for doubt. Theres no chance for you to feel insecure and It is near impossible for you to second guess whether it means it or not. It is stubborn but it isnt petty. It doesn't go away just because you say you dont want it in the moment, but it does give you space and comes back when you need it again even if you dont want to admit it.

It's that type of love that treats you based on who you are, not who you show everyone. Because it understands you further than what the surface leads on. And it wants to know you at your core, no matter how much trauma it has.

— And as much as it wants to get ALL of you, it understands there is a line. So whenever you have a problem to share it is always ready to pay attention. And it knows when to mind it's business when you don't want to talk about it.

It's the type of love that loves to give and never expects. The type of love that never runs out. My kind of love.

[illustrationist-of-the-stars]

In the Stitch event, what do you think the HSR characters' reaction would be off getting stuck on a random beach and meeting Stitch?

I think they all mostly would have very mixed and different reactions to the little alien gremlin once they get over the shock and slight concern of getting transported into some random book and ending up in a tropical paradise....

Besides that, for just the Beach itself:

Yuu!Jing Yuan would be surprised at the sudden turn of events he got into but would just go back to being his usual laid-back attitude at the face of his current companions in the same predictament as him so as to not overwhelm them or induce more panic into them more than neccassary but make no mistake, the white lion is ready to pounce on any true threat if were one show itself in his wake because while he has no access to his weapon in this dimension, his own fists and claws aren't exempt from the aquation if a sudden battle were to commence that dare to threaten his companion's lively hoods.

The sudden wardrobe change perplexes him, to be honest and the choice of it without his actual input into it but he supposes it suits the overall islander aesthetic in whatever this dimension is going for if you ignore the whole getting stranded and lost at sea issue. He's not quite used to wearing something as casual in public but he comes to appreciate the feeling of just being himself with no high expectations or responsibility placed upon him for a bit and decides to treat it as like a true relaxing vacation before they inevitably find a way back home.

Yuu!Dan Heng is in a similar protective mood aswell, with the added sudden stress of getting literally stranded into a seemingly deceitful tropical paradise and with his powers made useless for an actual escape from it all and back to the familiar yet not world of Twisted Wonderland, it's no wonder how he didn't just flooded the entire island with his own high-strung emotions alone.

Honestly, if it weren't the slighy twitch of his expression and tense shoulders and figure giving himself away to the students there, one could've said his stoic attitude was fairly convincing...yet everyone by now knows him far too well much to his chagrin.

The outfit change concerns him greatly actually but he has no say in it so he'd just make do with what he's got until further notice.

Yuu!Argenti would still somehow manage to keep his composure and find the positives, and of course, the beauty that could be found in this sudden turne of events. He already knows that whatever it is that brought them there would have to release them eventually so he'd take his time to just appreciate the flora and fauna surrounding him whilst leaving some poetic commentary on everything he sees which some of the guys learn to just tune out or nod every now and again so as to not hurt his feelings or just to be polite.

He would also give compliments to whatever entity that chose such tasteful new outfits that suit him greatly and the comfortable feeling of being in this tropical atmosphere.

Yuu!Aventurine would find this situation suprising but not at the same time, to be honest. At this point in time, he'd just be resigned to just follow the flow and see whatever it takes him unless it somehow threatens his life or a chance to gamble something is present to him since the stuff he's been through in Twisted Wonderland taught him than in situations that involve magic as potent and strong as this is that it's just best to let things run it's course and leave it up to chance like the true gambler he is.

He would eventually decide to just reap the benefits of being there and use it as a much needed relaxing, vacation time that he really got so it's a win for him regardless...

Though the wardrobe change does concern him alot and the intrusive thought of some unknown entity changing his clothes midway through his unwilling transportation here gives him a twinge of disgust and uncomfortability wave through him, he supposes that whatever it was that did it, he should be somewhat grateful it didn't do anything more than that, right? Could be worse...

Yuu!Silver Wolf would be surprised upon her arrival at first but would later realize the situation is like sort of reverse isekai but island retreat theme so she'd be apprehensive at first but later would just go with the flow aswell. On the outside she'd continue with her stoic, 'idgaf' attitude to her friends but on the inside she's actually sort of nervous in this new environment no matter her weird instincts telling her that she shouldn't be worried...

The outfit change into something more a beach goer aesthetic did shock her at first, but she'd be a little happy at getting new clothes she can be comfortable in and just having something new to wear in general cause the school uniforms, hand-me down clothes qnd school bought clothes were not cutting it at this point...no matter the implications or the 'how's' or 'why's' she got them or here.

As for seeing Stitch himself in all his gremlin, chaotic glory...of course the reactions and attitude towards him would vary:

Yuu!Jing Yuan would just treat him as like an unruly yet very bratty child that may or may not have rabies and would often than not hold him by the scruff of his neck and put him in solitary air jail when he gets to fussy or risk letting himllse to wreak havoc on the island and it's inhabitants.

In the end though, he'd learn to actually like and be quite charmed with Stitch and his odd quirks aswell. He'd try to teach him to regulate his emotions more and try to understand why he likes to cause destruction so much and try to teach him better ways to use that anger to something more productive or atleast in something that won't harm other people and would eventually come to treat him as like a pupil no matter their limited time together.

Yuu!Dan Heng would be super disturbed and agitated at first with the little guy upon first meeting since the new situation is still fresh with him and suddenly having some weird rabid alien following them around causing mayhem is not helping them get any favors or any way back so he'd just be apprehensive and keep his distance.

After awhile, Stitch with his strange way of getting under anyone's skin and him being oddly cute in his own meesed up way, would eventually get closer to Yuu!Dan Heng mostly due to him being fascinated by his Imbibitor Lunae form and would try his hardest to instigate a fight between them but would just settle with poking and prodding at his new features curiously much to the Viyadhara's misfortune and his disregarded personal space.

He'd also later learn of Stitch's instinctual aversion to open seas and water in general and yet his own curiousity and want to play outshining such survival instinct so he'd relent and let him play with the water dragon or just let him get accimalate with water in small doses if Stitch wants to.

He'd have a bregruding liking to the little alien and would often than not talk about space with eachother and the concept of family once they get more comfortable with one another's presence.

Yuu!Argenti, as expected, would still somehow find Stitch quite beautiful regardless of the other's saying otherwise and would come to treat him as like any other person or thing that he deems so and would hold with reverance which Stitch would preen into with each compliment that spills out pf his mouth but would eventually find abit annoying after awhile...

Yuu!Aventurine would be a bit understandably apprehensive at first and would treat Stitch like he'd bite off his fingers anytime which is, again, understandable and he'd maybe even do something worse than that-

But after awhile of getting used to eachothers presence, they'd later would get along with one another while Yuu!Aventurine would pamper and treat the little pipsqueak like his own kid or something or act as like a makeshift sugar daddy (lmao-)

He would turn a blind eye at any havoc the little guy would cause and would gain a little bit of satisfaction if that same havoc were to be directed to some of the guys but would hold him back if he were to see he's going a bit too far.

He'd also absolutely teach the guy the art of gambling and play some games with the guy to pass the time mucn to everyone else's displeasure...

Yuu!Silver Wolf honestly would just treat him as like some weird ass furry little brother that on occasion causes property damage every now and again in a fit of frenzied rage or bloodlust but don't we all?

She'd absolutely introdictate him into playing games with her on one of her old tech screens and thankfully it can handle a little mishandling due to it being mostly transparent and sort of magic-like(?) So he can be as brash and reckless as possible with it so long as he doesn't rage quit and somehow dedicates every inch of himself into finding a way through sheer force of will.

Yuu!Silver Wolf would also absolutely try to get him into being an ipad kid and would be the groups saving grace with always being the one to give the guy something to watch on one of her screens to distract him long enough to have some sort of reprieve from his manic self.

[corrosionbunni]

The Secret to Happiness

One shot

Summary: After being found wandering empty roads, you’ve found home at a prison. You’ve grown a reputation of being a constant beam of happiness. After a spontaneous night of drinking and a game of truth or dare, one question burns bright. What is your secret?

Fluff/slight angst

Word count: 1443

Pairing: Daryl x female reader (or not female only gendered term used once towards the reader is ‘miss’)

Setting: prison era - season 4

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cigarettes

A/n: this is my first time writing in years, but it came to me in a dream. It’s also partially proof read but done so with the lack of sleep and the lack of glasses.

The night is cool as you sit cross-legged in the grass. Your skin heated from the heavy amount of Jack Daniels you have already downed. It’s safe to say, you are border-lining drunk. A constant smile is spread across your lips as you look at the group around you, illuminated by the small fire you’ve gathered around.

Maggie sat across from you. With one arm planted behind her to keep her up, Glenn lying on his side beside her, hand placed over hers. Sasha was on the other side of Maggie, with Rick beside her. On the other side of Glenn, Tyreese sat with an arm around Karen.

And finally, Beside you was Daryl. Silently taking sips of his whiskey.

“Okay!” Sasha chuckles, having just answered a question of ‘truth or dare’. “Who’s next? Daryl?”

“Nah, I’m not playin’”

“I know!” Maggie speaks up from where she’s sat, “How about little miss sunshine over here” She gestures towards you.

You lean forward slightly, grinning wide at Maggie. “Alright, give it to me!”

“Truth or dare?”

You cross one arm across your chest, the other being upwards as you tap a finger to your chin.

“Hmm. Let me think.. dare. ‘Cause I ain’t no pussy!” Laughter is heard from around the group. You keep smiling Maggie’s way. Drunk. You are definitely drunk.

“Okay,” Mirroring your grin. “I dare you… to kiss the hottest person here.”

“What are we, high schoolers?” You laugh, “Either way, I can’t do that. I’m already certain they can’t stand me, and I don’t want to do anything that’ll make them hate me more.” You say giggling, taking another sip.

“Okay then,” Maggie shifts slightly, “what’s the secret to being so happy all the time?”

“Well the thing is…” you draw your words out. still smiling wide, moving to position yourself on your knees, you can feel the cool grass making an indent on your knee where a hole has formed in your worn out jeans. “Secrets, are secret for a reason.” You beam widely.

“it’s the game, choose one.” Sasha chimes in.

You debate with yourself for a moment. Everyone awaiting your response.

“well, in that case.”

You turn to your side and place a hand under Daryl’s chin, stabling yourself as you place a short, yet sweet, kiss on his cheek.

Silence.

A surge of electricity goes straight through your chest as you quickly stand to your feet. “Well!” -anxiety- You exclaim, clapping your hands together, “I’d say that’s my queue to head off.” -panic- You brush off some grass that stayed sticking to the skin of one knee peaking through your jeans.

Everyone stuck in a trance of stunned silence.

“Goodnight!” You give a wave and make your leave.

Heart racing, your legs pull you across the grass, up through the gates. You don’t realise you’ve stopped until you’re planted on a bench in the courtyard.

You sit in a rigid silence for a few minutes. Internally screaming at yourself.

Why would you do that?

You can’t believe your actions.

You’ve had a crush on Daryl for a while now. But you never had any plans to act on it.

You were certain he could not stand you.

Anytime the two of you were left alone he’d not utter a single word. He wouldn’t even look at you.

And then there were the times you’d say something in your overly happy tone, he’d shake his head and you swear you could hear him scoff.

It seemed like he would avoid you at every chance he got, so it’s a surprise when the body that sits next to you belongs to the man himself.

You stay silent. Staring ahead. For once, not smiling.

Your peripheral vision allows you to see Daryl lighting up a cigarette. Taking a deep breathe in, exhaling the grey smoke.

He clears his throat slightly.

“Ya think I hate ya?” His voice low.

You nod, not knowing if he’s even looking at you to see, as you keep your stare ahead.

“How could I not? It doesn’t seem like you enjoy my presence very much.” Your voice is also low, a little defeated. “You won’t even talk to me.”

“Nah, I don’ hate ya. S’just- you’re so damn happy. It’s blindin’. Your blindin’.”

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. The smell of his cigarette wafting through the air.

“So wha’s the secret?”

“Hm?”

“Ta happiness.”

“Oh.” You let a small breathy laugh, looking down shaking your head.

“Uhm… I guess,” You pause, thinking for a second. “I Uhm, I don’t really know.”

Your voice gets quiet. “If I’m being honest,” you start picking at the frayed fabric of your jeans, “I don’t think I’ve ever truely felt happiness. It started as a way to distract myself from feeling any of the bad things. I somehow convinced myself that if I was going to put energy into anything, it may as well be a smile.” Daryl stays quiet beside you, “and it sorta just stuck.”

You finally turn your head to look him, but he’s already looking at you. The eye contact you hold felt heavy.

“Plus,” you break the eye contact to to stare ahead, “I think it’s better to have everyone see me endlessly happy than have them see me for what I really am.”

You both stay silent for a second before Daryl speaks up “And wha’s that?”

You turn your head to regain eye contact, your voice comes out soft, while with a small, a sad smile you state “a truely broken person.”

The two of you stay staring at each other, the faint sound of laughter can be heard from the group as a slight breeze carries the noise. Daryl bites his lip in that way he does, as his eyes flicker between yours and anywhere but you, simultaneously.

You clear your throat “I also want to say sorry.” “What for?” “For kissing you. I know it was just on the cheek, but still. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I am sorry”

“nah,” he shakes his head slightly. “Don’t be.” He moves his gaze ahead of him. “Was nice”

you feel your chest flutter for moment.

Staring at him, a lopsided grin growing on your face. “Yeah?”

He gives you a side glance before nodding again “yeah.”

With a new found confidence, carried by the work of Jack Daniels still in your system, your usual cheery persona returns.

“Well, if you liked that, I know a better place.”

He turns his head to you, confusion littering his expression.

“Better place?”

Your lips stretch into a wide closed mouth smile, as you gently tap your lips.

His eyes widen slightly, staring at where your finger now rests softly upon your lips.

“Would that be okay?” You ask, softly, but still confident. His body is a still as ever, eyes lifting to make eye contact once again.

He softly nods.

You turn your body to him, taking the hand that had once been pressing a finger to your lips, and use it to rest gently against his left cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he ever so slightly leans into your touch.

Your other hand moving down to rest on the bench infront of you to aid you in leaning closer to him.

You stop just in front of his face, looking to his still closed eyes and letting out a faint breath, before your own fall shut as you close the gap. Lips pressed together, gentle.

One singular kiss causing your whole body to send signals of pure joy throughout your entirety.

You part, faces still close, eyes still shut. The soft exchange age of air passing through both of your lips, the smell of whiskey and tobacco fill your nose.

He reaches a hand up to hold you. His index finger lay just below your ear, as your jaw rests just at the base of his thumb. Pulling you back in. This time the both of you lips move together, slowly, softly.

You both stop, lips still touching. Hands still placed on either one’s face. Slowly pulling away your face away, eyes opening.

The pair of you stare at each other, not saying anything.

Hands drops as you move back to your original position, both staring ahead. A small smile stuck in place.

Beside you, you hear a soft chuckle. You turn your head to look at him “what?”

He looks at you with the faintest smile, “nothin’.. just.” He lets out another chuckle as his smile grows a little more.

“Im thinking’ I just found my secret to happiness.”

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

Winx Club? I haven’t heard that name in years. *slides you $20* got anymore drabbles or HC for the Links and fairy reader?

(If that’s okay to ask ofc. I loved Winx as a child and now I think you got me wanting to watch it again. I’ll never get over how stunning those girlies were 😩)

We love our beautiful and badass girls. I really hoe the reboot will do our queens justice (but I am sceptical).

I know that in the previous fic, I mentioned that [Name] had already earned their Enchantix, but I imagined them in their basic Magic Winx/Charmix form in this one.

--

This was the worst.

As if these monsters couldn't be more disgusting, you just had to get caught in a giant Skulltula's web. It was thick, sticky, stringy and stronger than it had any right to be. And you hated it. Any and all attempts to free yourself only resulten in you gatting more stuck.

Thankfully, you had just enough wiggle room to shoot a couple spells at the few remaining Skulltulas that wanted to sink their mandables into your flesh. But who knows how long it'll be until more come.

At this point, you would rather get swallowed whole by one of those "Like Likes" that Hyrule mentioned.

"[Name], are you okay?" Oh thank the Great Dragon, Wars was here. You were wondering when someone would notice that you were missing from the fight.

"Never felt better." You answered with some sarcasm. "This is so gross."

"Don't worry, I'll have you out in just a moment." He took hold of whatever parts of you weren't covered in sticky web and began to pull.

Wars was undoubtedly stronger than you, so he had a much better chance at getting you down. However, he was pulling too hard too fast and the web just wouldn't let go. It was as if he and the web were playing tug-of-war, but for keeps. Particularly, your wings and the rest of your body were being yanked in different directions. It hurt. A lot.

"Stop! Stop! You'll tear my wings off!"

It was only when you started pleading did he stop pulling. Thought he did still have half a mind to apologize.

The next brilliant idea was to cut you loose. But, to be fair, this one was much more successful. With just a few swipes of his sword, Wars had severed the bits of web holding you in place while staying away from any of your body parts. Thankfully, you were spared the fate of faceplanting onto the rocky dungeon floor when Wars caught you.

"Would you look at that, I caught a butterfly. A big, pretty one, too."

"One more word out of you and I swear I'll blast you."

"Fine, fine, just having some fun." He set you down before mentioning for you to follow. "The others must have already gotten rid of the leftover monsters on this floor."

Sure enough, Wars was right. Everyone - minus the two of you - had gathered in the middle room, each giving their reports from when you decided to split up.

"Are you badly hurt?" Time asked as he saw you coming back, pulling some loose hanging webbing from your clothes.

"I'm okay. But I won't be able to fly until I get this gunk off of me." That's going to be a day to itself.

Time gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Actually, taking a good look around at the group, they all looked pretty worn out. "We'll call it a day. Let's go back into town and get some rest. Tomorrow we clear the rest of this dungeon."

There were no objections.

--

Thankfully, the inn was quiet this evening. You didn't know how much more irritated you could be right now, especially if people were running around and causing a ruckus.

You've already gotten the web from your body, so that only left one thing. The part that you dreaded the most: your wings. Your hair had already been a painful mess to deal with, so you could only imagine what your wings would be like.

"How are you doing?" Sky's (or your self proclaimed "Flying Buddy") voice cut through the silence as he stepped through the doorway. He was probably one of the better roommates to have right now. You'd have to thank Time later for putting you with him instead of Wind or Legend.

"This web's really annoying. And it's in some hard to reach places, too." You grumbled, frustrated. "I swear, if I see a single Skulltula again, I'm exterminating the entire species."

"That bad, huh?" He cuckled a little, but stopped himself when he noticed you slightly flinch as you got another sticky chunk out. "Do you want some help?"

A sigh escaped from your lips. "You know I don't let just anyone touch my wings."

"I've had to help clean Crimson's wings many times before. I'm sure I can handle it." Sky sat down on the bed next to you.

"It's not you I'm worried about." You admitted. "I know I don't have my wings out most of the time, but they're still a part of me, and they're really sensitive."

You've long heard stories of fairies losing their wings, either in an accident or by someone destroying them. Either way, it's a horrible fate for someone of your kind. Yes, they eventually grow back, but that takes time, and it doesn't erase the fact that it was a traumatic experience or that it left the fairy vulnerable and weakened in the meantime.

"You're having trouble and I want to help. Besides, you won't be able to reach some of those places."

"You'd really do that?"

"Of course. What are friends for?" He gave a reassuring smile. "Just lay down and I'll handle it. You won't even notice I'm here."

He had a point, you supposed. Guess he couldn't do that bad of a job. You laid yourself on the bed, back facing Sky.

"Just... Be gentle, alright?"

"Promise."

--

And then, they fu-

Btw, if I have convinced anyone here to watch this show fo the first time or revisit it, my personal reccomendation is to watch the Rai English dub (you can find it on YouTube for free) because it's the most faithful of the English dubs (of which there are 5, apparently, and none of them have the entire series). I would also stop watching after season 4/the second movie. Trust me, you're doing yourself a favour by not watching seasons 5-8.

There are the Nickelodeon Specials that condense season 1 into 3 hour long specials and one that covers season 2, but I really don't reccomend them for new veiwers. Just watch the original full seasons. They butchered my precious season 2 so badly.

P.S Also, you should maybe skip the "Miss Magix" episode in season 1. It has a pretty bad scene that mocks a black woman's natural hair. It's a filler episode, anyway, so you're not missing anything.

[laurentidal]

Hey Lauren! Do you have a schedule and/or process? You have stories lined up weeks in advance, while I'm struggling to figure out what I'm doing Tuesday. What's your secret?

I'm so happy you asked as it gives me a chance to talk about my favorite piece of software in existence, Obsidian.md. I apologize because where some people probably just have a "I'll post this today" mentality, I am mentally ill and need to build complex systems to keep my brain in check.

Obsidian is how I organize absolutely everything in my life, including my bills, my law school notes, and of course my stories and publishing schedule. I don't mind giving you a little peak behind the curtain of my absolute organizational mania (nor do I mind giving everyone a tiny preview of the things in the hopper).

I have a second blog where I keep all the images that I like that I might one day incorporate into a story, tagged to high-heaven so I can find the thing I'm looking for easily (say, topless and outside). Then once it's ready to work on, I save it to my Obsidian vault.

This is what my workspace looks like where I'm writing:

I typically start with a picture and let the story grow out of it. It's much harder to match a picture to a story that's already grown. Thus the in-depth tagging in my storage blog. I rarely edit, which I KNOW is a bad habit, but it's not one I really intend to work on. I fix typos when I see them though. (Or when people point them out to me.)

All the data about a story is logged in the front matter so it can be analyzed by the vault. Then, based on the Status, and the Publication Date, it's put into the scheduler that's run by an Obsidian plugin called Dataview, which has changed my life (not an exaggeration):

Blue is for anything already out. Green is for stuff finished and in the queue to be published. Yellow is stuff that's done but not scheduled yet. Orange is stuff I've started but am not happy with. Red is stuff that has a title and a picture and nothing else. (Black is stuff Tumblr hid. Sad.) There's also White, which is for copies of my old stories that I've managed to recover from other people's blogs.

The other columns are the Original Publication Date, the Notes (last I checked) and the Rebloggability (calculated by how many times I've reblogged it already and how long it's been since that happened). And there's a special area for the multi-post stories.

I also use Google Calendar:

More color coding. Green for reblogs. Yellow for new posts. Orange for reposts of stories that were on my old blog. Blue for chapters. And Grey for Special.

That's it as far as my process. But if you remember all that frontmatter on the story... Obsidian, Dataview, and another plugin called Charts can team up and give me some dazzling data analysis.

There's about thirty graphs on my Analysis page, so I won't share all of them, but here's what you freaks are into:

I also have some compelling data that you all have short attention spans:

Because that's the most goddamn perfect reverse exponential function I've ever seen, and also the reason I posted zero long story updated in January.

So that's THE PROCESS and by way thereof, THE VAULT. Hope you enjoyed this deep dive into my particular brand of bullshit. I know here in this corner of the world we like spirals, but to me, the sexiest shape is a little box with a little piece of data in it.