#me: i need a break

[thetomorrowshow]

normal is relative (love is love)

Hola folks! if you weren't aware, i am on hiatus! however despite completely cutting myself off from social media, i haven't stopped writing. i wrote this last week and emailed it over to my bestie and beta reader, afternineattheoasis, who is now posting it here and on tumblr for all to enjoy. otherwise, my queue should post every second tuesday of the month until i'm back :)

~

"And, I was just wondering . . . um, I—oh, this is just—I can't do this."

Doc raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Try again," he said.

Mumbo sighed, adjusted his tie. "Right. Well, I was just in the neighborhood—in the neighborhood? I've never said that in my life, I don't know—"

Doc harrumphed loudly. "Again."

"Okay." Mumbo took a deep breath. "Hi, G! Uh, I was—I have, I mean, or, or, I want? Look, it's—we're, we're good friends, right?"

"Stop."

Mumbo, gratefully, stopped.

Doc watched him for a moment, eyes roving over Mumbo, from his head to his toes. Mumbo stood there, awkwardly, just waiting for him to say something. Anything. Any piece of advice.

"Lose the tie," Doc said eventually.

"I—what? What? Lose the—lose the tie?" Mumbo sputtered. "It's—I always wear a tie!"

"It feels too formal. Take it off."

"That's absolutely ridiculous," Mumbo said. "I don't see how that's supposed to help me."

"I don't see how I am supposed to help you," Doc said. "What do you want from this? Why me?"

Well, Mumbo had thought that was obvious! Why would he go to anyone other than Doc?

"You're the only other aspec person I know," he said, pushing up his sleeves. That felt awkward. He pushed them back down. "I figured, because you and Ren have your—your—"

"Our QPR?" Doc supplied.

"Yes! Yes, that. Well, you and Ren have feelings for each other, and your relationship is a QPR—"

"I do not have feelings for Ren," said Doc, nose wrinkled. "Ren has feelings for me, and I like his feelings."

"Oh. Right." Mumbo blinked a couple of times. He was pretty sure that's exactly what having feelings was, but okay. "Um, well, how did you confess? Or how did Ren confess, I guess? Like, how was it different from confessing other feelings?"

It was Doc's turn to blink, a slow action, his robotic eye spinning circles around in his head. "Different?"

"Yes. How is—" Mumbo patted his pockets, a tic he'd developed some time ago that he did when he was searching for a word or trying to explain something— "How do you confess feelings of like? Isn't that—isn't that weird?"

"I do not understand."

Mumbo bit his lip. Doc had to be messing with him. "Well, like, a love confession is normal. But, well—a platonic confession? And asking to be in a QPR? That's weird."

Doc frowned. "It is still a love confession, Mumbo. Love is love. Platonic, romantic—just two different loves. All deserve a confession."

"Well, sure," Mumbo waved, "but it certainly isn't normal."

"Normal is relative," grumbled Doc. "Nothing is normal."

"Something—some things are normal, and—"

"Ask Zedaph what normal is to him. And then ask Joe. And then ask Keralis. They will all have different answers. Normal is relative."

He shouldn't have tried to argue with Doc. "All right, but, but a committed platonic relationship is not normal to Grian. He could—"

"I don't understand," Doc said. "You care about him, yes?"

Well, yes. Mumbo did care about Grian. He cared about him very much.

But what if Grian felt differently? What if Grian didn't want a committed platonic relationship?

What if Grian wanted more?

What if Mumbo was wrong about everything? What if he didn't actually want a QPR? What if Mumbo wanted more?

"Do you think," he said slowly, "that I might actually want a romantic relationship but I just don't know it? Like—I've never felt this with anyone before—before Grian. Maybe, maybe I actually want to date him, but I don't know it because I don't know what romance feels like and—"

"Do you want to kiss Grian?" Doc asked, one eyebrow raised.

Mumbo felt a bit of revulsion for a second, just to imagine such a thing. That would weird, a total violation of the relationship they have. "No."

"Do you want to woo him?"

That got the same feeling. "No, no—I—"

"Do you want to play footsie under the table and giggle about it?"

Mumbo actually almost gagged. "No, that sounds—"

Doc held his hands up, a look of satisfaction on his face. "There you are. I do not think you have romantic feelings for Grian."

Mumbo wasn't so sure that was a definitive test, but it did help a little bit, in reassuring his identity. He'd been identifying as aromantic and asexual for as long as he knew they existed, but his recent feelings for Grian had made him start to doubt his entire existence. It was good to have that little confirmation.

"Right," he said, still turning Doc's words over in his mind. "Okay. So—but what if Grian doesn't like . . . the idea? Of a, uh, not-romantic relationship?"

Doc sighed. "Mumbo, why are you so afraid of platonic love?"

That—he wasn't afraid of platonic love! He was just—just nervous, he supposed. Nervous that—nervous that Grian would be. Absolutely not afraid.

"Love is love. And besides, you really just want to . . . ah, put a label on your relationship, yes?"

"Well, yes, and also—make it committed? But what if Grian doesn't want—what if he wants a romantic relationship, not with—not with me, with someone else, and I don't—and we're a, uh, platonic couple? And I'm not comfortable with that?"

Doc waved his robotic arm. "Relationship. Such a messy word. Relationships are . . . ah, transitiatory, I suppose? They develop, and change, day to day. Especially in a mixed-orientation relationship, like the one you want to be in."

Mixed-orientation relationship. What, because Grian was alloromantic and Mumbo was aro? Or would it mean something else entirely?

"What exactly is a mixed-orientation relationship?" Mumbo asked hesitantly. "Just to, er, make sure we're on the same page."

"Something like what Ren and I have," Doc explained patiently. "Ren is alloromantic. I am not. Ren has romantic feelings for me. I am fine with it. He knows that I do not return them. It involves much communication, and our boundaries change frequently. That is what you want, yes?"

Not that Mumbo knew what to expect, but that sounded like something that he wanted. Maybe not the whole bit about Ren having romantic feelings anyway. Mumbo didn't really like the idea of Grian wanting that sort of relationship, and Mumbo not being able to provide.

"Does it ever get—is it ever hard, to know—or, does, er, when Ren wants things you don't want, is that hard?"

Doc stared at him for a moment, clearly trying to parse out the question. He chuckled suddenly, crossing one leg over the other.

"Right, I forgot that you're asexual also," he said, still chuckling. "No. No, Ren and I never have that problem."

That was probably too much information. Mumbo could've lived without knowing that. He could feel his ears heating up, like they always did when he got embarrassed. Change the subject change the subject—

"Um, right then. But, like—did you ever feel bad that you can't, you know, return his feelings? Give him what he wants—in like, a feelings, romance sense? You know?"

Doc, again, sighed. "Mumbo Jumbo, my platonic . . . er, love for Ren is not worth less than romantic love. They are equal, if different. You must understand that before anything, yes? There is no love greater than another. All love is worthy of love."

Mumbo knew that. He really did. He knew about love, and the different kinds. He had learned that being aspec didn't mean broken, just different.

Why couldn't he keep it straight when it came to Grian?

"I think I'm just having a hard time with this today," Mumbo said eventually. "I know this stuff. Like, remember when Joe signed us all up for that gender and sexuality conference so that we could learn how to use Cleo's pronouns? I went to the, uh, the aspec panel, and they talked a lot about that. And I've also just . . . just read about it online. So I know—I know that you're right. I know this. It's just hard. You know?"

"Ah, I remember that conference," Doc said, gazing off into the distance with what was either a fond or a disgruntled expression. "Some racist man threatened me. The fun thing about threatening a part-creeper is that you're sure to lose."

Mumbo really didn't like Doc's smile. Maybe it would be best to return to the main subject.

"Another thing I'm scared about—"

"Another thing? Mumbo, how many fears can one have about this?"

Mumbo laughed self-consciously. "Well, well, I've—I've got a lot, so just—buckle in, bud. Another thing is what if . . . well, what if he says no? And then he thinks it's weird, that—that—that I feel that way. And he doesn't want to be friends anymore. Then what?"

Doc stared at him. "You are making things up now."

"No, I'm—this is a genuine fear! I just want to be—"

"Mumbo," interjected Doc, "when Grian first joined, I thought you were in a QPR."

Oh.

Well, Mumbo rather liked that. He and Grian already gave off QPR vibes? That was—maybe not, not great, but it made him feel kind of proud.

"Of course, others on the server assumed it was romantic," Doc continued. "My a-dar has never been wrong."

The others thought—?

Mumbo could deal with that later.

"I don't think it counts as an a-dar if I already came out to you, mate," Mumbo pointed out.

Doc waved. "Potato, potato."

"Those were the same potatoes."

"Mumbo Jumbo."

Mumbo sighed, properly looked up at Doc. When had his eyes fallen to his shoes?

Doc stared into his eyes as he spoke. "If Grian is worth anything, he will never stop loving you. Understood?"

Mumbo didn't argue this time. Doc was right. And Mumbo knew Grian. Even if Grian rejected him and it was a little awkward for a while, nothing would change.

He took a deep breath. He could do this.

"Right. So let's say I'm going to confess right now. What do I do?"

Doc, again, surveyed him up and down, robotic eye moving slower than his natural one, from Mumbo's shoes to his hair.

"Lose the tie."

-

Mumbo didn't lose the tie.

He did loosen it, though, on his way out of his tree, after doubling back to check himself out in the mirror.

Doc was right. It felt too formal, too much like he was inviting Grian to a dinner party rather than asking a close friend if they wanted to change their brand of friendship.

So he loosened it, then left to find Grian.

Grian was meant to really get some progress done on his alley build today (because of course they shared a calendar, how else would they ever get anything done?), but Mumbo didn't see him passing by, so he headed instead for Grian's starter base.

There was no one there, either. Grian must have been out mining or something. Which kind of sucked, really, because Mumbo had just gotten up the nerve to actually talk to him. Now he would have to do it all over again—spend a day hyping himself up, an hour getting ready, skip breakfast so that he doesn't throw up, et cetera—another time. After all, since Grian wasn't here at the exact time Mumbo planned, everything had entirely fallen apart and nothing that day would work because Mumbo hadn't prepared for it.

He turned to go, trying not to look too dejected. It was fine! He was fine. It was all going to work out, and everything—

"Mumbo Jumbolio!"

Grian landed in front of him, elytra clicking neatly together on his back. He smiled, big and sunny and welcoming.

Mumbo felt a bit weak in the knees. And not because—not because he loved him, or anything, but—

No. He did love Grian.

"What are you sneaking around my house for?"

"Just—just looking for you, dude!" Mumbo said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Any suspicion cleared from Grian's face instantly, even though Mumbo probably sounded like the most suspicious person ever. Instead, Grian just turned away and started walking, so Mumbo hurried up and fell into step beside him.

Instinctively, Mumbo slowed his pace, matching the stride of Grian's shorter legs. Grian started chattering about some builder thing like block palletes or something that Mumbo automatically tuned out. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear about block palletes—he was trying to become a better builder, after all—or that he didn't want to listen to Grian talk, he was just kind of busy not having a panic attack. Breathing exercises kind of took up a lot of his mental capacity at the best of times.

They arrived, somehow, at the Boatem Hole. Grian sat down on the edge of it, swinging his legs back and forth, still talking.

Mumbo didn't really like to sit at the edge of the Boatem Hole. He always felt like Impulse or Grian would be right behind him, ready to shove him in.

He sat down, anyway. He needed to have this talk with Grian right now, or else he'd chicken out.

"—right?"

Mumbo turned to Grian, trying not to look too much like a spoon.

Grian raised an eyebrow. "Were you even listening to a single word I just said?"

Mumbo swallowed. Loudly. Audibly. That swallow was probably heard by Grian. That was awkward.

How was he supposed to casually transition to his intended subject? He hadn't planned for small talk! He'd kind of just planned to turn up on Grian's doorstep and give his whole spiel!

He had to leave. He had to get out of there, regroup, and come back in five to two-hundred business days with an actual plan.

"Oh, your tie's all messed up—here, let me—"

Mumbo went perfectly still, heart pounding, as Grian started messing with his tie, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth just the tiniest bit. 

They'd hugged before, and cuddled, and just generally hung on each other. But this, somehow, felt like it meant something more than anything else. Like Grian knew what Mumbo was here to say.

Or assumed. Or maybe assumed that he was going to suggest a romantic relationship, because fixing someone's tie was generally considered romantic, right?

Mymbo didn't know. He hoped desperately that Grian couldn't hear his heartbeat.

When Grian finished, he sat back, surveying it with a frown.

Grian actually ended up making it worse, Mumbo realized, as he looked down at himself. The back part was half poking out, the collar stuck under part of it. The tie itself was not really any tighter than it had been.

"I know how to tie a tie," Grian said, eyes narrowed. "I don't know . . . what went wrong."

"I'm aromantic," Mumbo blurted out.

Grian blinked, looking a bit taken about. "I know?"

Right. Grian did know that. How could Mumbo save this? 

"I'm asexual."

"I . . . know that too?"

Okay. He could still save this. He could still make it work.

"Well, I don't—I'm not really looking for a romantic relationship, because of, because of that—not that every aspec person feels that way, but, but I do—" he was such a spoon— "so I don't want to date, not like—not like that, not romantically, but, like, if you would be all right with it, maybe platonically?"

Silence.

Grian half-turned his head away, then back, a look of utter confusion on his face. "Run that by me again?"

Oh, dear.

"Right," Mumbo said, ears on fire. "Um. Would you be interested in a—er, in a committed platonic relationship?"

Grian stared at him for long moment. Mumbo kind of wished he could shrink down to the size of a frog and hide under a rock. Not something that would be very practical or logical for most situations, but definitely something to work on.

Maybe he could put Zedaph on it.

"It's okay if not," Mumbo said belatedly. "Like, it's mostly an aspec thing, so if you aren't comfortable or—"

"Oh, like a QPR?" Grian asked, face clearing of his confused stare when Mumbo nodded. "Okay, I think we're on the same page, now."

Mumbo nodded several times. "Great," he said stupidly. He wasn't sure what else to say. What else he could do to keep his heart from being shattered.

"Wait—you're asking me—aw, Mumbo!" said Grian, a silly smile spreading across his face. "Of course, I'd love to!"

No way.

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes—

Streamers, confetti, a big sign rolled out that read 'he said YES' in big letters—

Mumbo, who was so busy celebrating in his mind, almost forgot to pay attention to Grian, who had begun speaking again.

"So, I don't really know how this works? So maybe we can have a sleepover tonight and do some research and stuff?"

Mumbo nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yeah, of course!"

"Because all I really know—you remember that gender and sexuality conference that Joe had us all go to, the one where Doc got us all kicked out on the second day? Well, before we had to leave, I went to the aspec panel—well, you were there, of course, we sat next to each other—and they talked a bit about QPRs there. But that's all I know."

He said yes.

Grian didn't do any of those horrible things that Mumbo had laid awake imagining, he hadn't rejected him or laughed at him or broken their friendship or tried to kiss him or anything.

He said yes. He said he wanted to learn. He said—oh, he was still talking—

"—that they have, but I imagine it'd be a bit different?" Grian was saying. "Not just because you're a different person from Doc, but because you probably have different needs than him. And me from Ren. Right?"

"Right," agreed Mumbo. "Yeah, of course, dude. Er—"

"Dude feels weird now," Grian said, brows furrowed. "Do we get, like, new cool nicknames and pet names?"

Mumbo had been thinking about the same thing last night. "There are a few," he said. "I mean, names are names and no kinds of names ought to be restricted by anything, so if you—if you wanted to try some, we could—but there are a few that already exist. Um, QPP? Like Queer Platonic Partner?"

"QP Partner," said Grian thoughtfully. "Cutie Partner. I like it. Anything less formal?"

"Um, datemate? Because we're like—just mates on dates, mate." That was so awkward why would he say that why would that come out of his mouth— "And, um, Zucchini? That's one—"

"Zucchuni!" Grian exclaimed, actually clapping his hands together. "You're my Zucchini, Mumbo Jumbo!"

Mumbo could have sworn his heart flew straight out of his chest.

This was so many new developments. Everything was changing all at once—in a good way, of course, but Mumbo kind of needed a moment to scream into a pillow and try to not have a panic attack. Or maybe just have it and get it over with.

But he didn't really want to leave Grian to go do that. Not while Grian was so excitedly redefining their entire relationship.

And as if he could read his thoughts, Grian took a deep breath and sat back.

"You probably need a bit of time to process, yeah?" he said.

Grian knew him so very very well. They had been best friends for years, after all.

"That would be wonderful," he said gratefully. "I'll, um, meet you for our sleepover?"

"I'll come over once the sun starts setting," confirmed Grian. "Don't be afraid to come find me if you need me earlier than that. And I'll text you in an hour or two, all right? Just to make sure you're doing good."

Mumbo nodded, heart bursting. Grian was like that, always remembering his anxiety and helping to remind him that he's cared about. 

He said yes.

Mumbo was officially in a QPR with his best friend.

He really did need to go cool down for a little. He felt like he was going to jitter out of his skin.

"Well, er, good talk!" Mumbo said lamely, standing and helping Grian to his feet. Grian sent a brilliant grin his way.

"Absolutely, datemate," he said, before suddenly pulling Mumbo into a hug.

Mumbo was never going to get used to this. He was in a QPR, for goodness' sakes—he was in a relationship!

He needed to get used to it, honestly. He wasn't sure he could stand this level of jitters every day.

He would have to tell Doc that his tie suggestion did absolutely nothing, Mumbo thought to himself as he headed back to Treesa. All that happened was Grian tried to fix it, and it halted all conversation, and gave Mumbo the chance to confess, and. . . .

Well. Maybe Doc was right.

Who would've thought?

[eastgaysian]

[milesofstars]

dick grayson in fanon: sweet silly older brother, pretty but stupid, favourite child, happy robin, basically batman 2.0 but a nice person, his brothers are more skilled and could outpace him but they love him anyways, goody-two-shoes, good relationship with batman, responsible eldest child, mentally stable and supportive

dick grayson in canon:

became robin so he wouldnt commit first degree murder

like all of his appearances young justice season 1 are about how hes a maniac and a genius

leader and strategist of the teen titans

actually Murdered the joker

considered an equal by the worlds most dangerous and deadly mercenary

was literally fired by batman and only really continued working w him because of jason and babs

managed to keep up with angsty new-to-the-job batman

has had so many arguments with bruce its a miracle he hasnt cut him off forever (hes tried though)

can take down the entire teen titans if he wanted despite being the only one of them with no superpowers/abilities

was the definition of angsty teenager

inherits his insane paranoia from bruce

a thread away from breaking the no-kill rule, give him a rest

hes literally feral guys i mean cmon

[willabee]

not supposed to be on the table but she looks so polite

[hinamie]

I'm always pushing you away from me / but you come back with gravity / and when I call, you come home

[newttxt]

crisis of disbelief

[emilinqa]

BLOOD FEVER

[lazylittledragon]

Dadstarion has me in a chokehold and the way you draw him being so GENTLE with Kit is so precious, I would die to see the transition from his new parent terror to how comfortable he eventually gets with him :O

of course he got there eventually <333

[ionomycin]

archfey warlock

[teddybeartoji]

suguru kisses your temple as he places your coffee in front of you, softly laughing at your still half-asleep expression before taking his seat right across from you. messy strands of hair cascade down over his shoulders and he tucks a few stray ones behind his ear, so his view is as clear as day – suguru needs to be able to see the way your eyebrows furrow as you yawn or he'll die. he needs to be able to see that sliver of skin that peeks from under your shirt, his shirt, as you stretch and rub your eyes or he'll die. he needs to be able to see the way your eyes widen just a tad at the first taste of the coffee, of the affection suguru offers you through a simple drink. it's him, it's all him.

he's everywhere – he's on your tongue as you swallow, he's in your nose as you inhale. he's on your skin as you get dressed every morning, he's in your head when you wake up. your shoes are clean and you know it's him, your laundry is done and you know it's him. there's a cup of coffee waiting for you and you know it's him. a pair of soft hands, a brush of lips against the shell of your ear and it's always him. he's everywhere you look, guarding and protecting, loving, and all he needs in return is the little sweet 'aahh' that tumbles from your lips just as you meet his eyes across the table.

you see the grin tugging on his lips before he hides it behind his own mug, the very same one you gifted him last christmas. his hands cup the ceramic with utmost care; he likes the warmth of it – of the coffee and of the adoration stored inside it.

under the table, your knees knock together.

under your ribs, your hearts stutter.

you're laughing and he's in love.

[panthermouthh]

U ever get those days

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[ghosted-jazz]

I like to think breaking the canary curse via dying in the void had some effects on Lizzie

[antiwhores]

My thoughts on how Bakugou cums:

He lets out a deep guttural moan every time he cums without fail. Its summoned from somewhere deep within him. He would die if anyone heard it except you. It’s for your ears and your ears only.

He does this while either burrowed in your neck or with his head tilted back. If he’s buried in your neck he’s either sucking on it or biting you. You love either but when his head is tilted back you get to see more of him. His Adam’s apple bobs so nicely.

His hands tense and untense rapidly. His fingers squeezed whatever he’s hanging onto almost painfully for him and definitely painfully for you (you love it tho). Also, his hands heat up. He’s gotten better control over it but when y’all first started he burned you so bad bro.

He grabs onto whatever part of you he has access to. From your hips and legs to your hair and neck. He gets too in the moment of his own pleasure and forgets that he’s strong as fuck. You usually come out with bruises.

When he can’t get a hold of you he does one of the three things: grabs fistfuls of his own hair, grabs the counter/sheets/headboard (whatever surface is near), or he lets himself loose and lets little explosions out.

Sometimes he whimpers. You have a mutual agreement to not speak of it.

He kisses you if he’s not covering his face. But if he’s not covering his face he’s covering yours. He hates the face he makes when he cums. Eventually, you got him to stop. Anyway, he kisses you sometimes if he’s not in your neck or throwing his head back. He bites your lips and moans into your mouth.

Okay I’m done

[findmeinthefallair]

It can't be overstated how powerful the catharsis is when a scene of a character connecting with their wounded inner child is done right. The key poses...the expressions...the timing...storytelling like this can help to provide some healing for so many people in the audience.

[arttsuka]

I made @wolfythewitch 's fox Bill design out of polymer clay

It's pretty thin (so thin I'm afraid it'll snap in half anytime I lift it)

Front and back side: