#sometimes i write stories

[theladyragnell]

ooohh, leverage ot3 talking late into the night?

(Set early in the Boston era.)

More often than not, it’s the three of them on Nate’s couch long after Nate’s gone to sleep.

After all, Alec is his landlord, and he’s not going to be a shitty landlord. He splashed out for the good internet connection, the kind that can handle the sort of load Alec works with regularly, and the bar and the apartment are in a neighborhood with enough utilities that nobody’s going to think twice about that kind of load, so it’s safer than doing the work in his own brownstone that he largely picked for the view and so he could enjoy people’s expressions when he says he lives in Beacon Hill.

All that to say, when Alec’s got work to do, and no matter what his teammates say he’s always got work to do, he does it at Nate’s, while Nate sleeps or pretends to sleep or makes whatever terrible choices Nate is making this week.

There’s no real reason for the other two to stay. Eliot claims he only sleeps four hours a night, and Parker thinks wandering around the Isabella Stewart Gardner at night trying to solve their unsolved heist is a good use of recreational time (which it is, but also her theories are wrong), but their work doesn’t take the kind of preparation and long hours of filtering through security footage his does.

When Eliot stays, he makes excuses about it. The rest of them are animals who never do the dishes from team dinner, or the mark’s security looked shifty and Eliot wants to make sure nobody followed them, or Nate’s kitchen has better wild yeast for a new sourdough starter, which was a wild conversation but the resulting bread was good as hell.

Parker doesn’t make excuses. She just twists herself up in a pretzel a few pieces of furniture away from him or finds some way to hang from the ceiling and hangs out. When Eliot makes a late-night snack of homemade soft pretzels or Swedish meatballs or spinach balls, she eats them. Sometimes she steals Alec’s orange soda, which she doesn’t even like.

So Alec talks to them. It’s sort of his natural state, talking to people, keeping up a running commentary on what he’s doing, and with Parker and Eliot, they’re pretty likely to chime in with something helpful sometimes.

Neither of them are chatty people, which is why he doesn’t really notice it when they do start chatting. He’s so used to one-sided conversations, and then he looks up from a laptop at two in the morning and realizes that Parker’s spent the last ten minutes telling him where she would put cameras if she wanted a thief as good as she is to know they’re there, that Eliot’s sometimes chiming in to argue with her about maybe tailoring their plans to make thieves a little less good than she is paranoid.

“What?” Eliot demands, a little aggressive like he can sometimes get, when he catches Hardison staring at them a few minutes later, fingers hovering over his keyboard while he puzzles over the situation and then puzzles over why he’s puzzling.

“Nothing, man. Just wondering if you guys need to get some sleep, that’s all. Don’t you have that early meet with the mark? Or am I doing all this work on identifying his security team for no good reason?”

Parker, who is upside down on the couch in a way that would have Alec dizzy if he tried it out, makes a face like she smelled something. “Oh, I’m not going to bed before that. I’ll sleep later.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” says Eliot, who definitely doesn’t. “Especially if Parker is going to be wrong about parking lot cameras—”

“I am never wrong about security cameras!”

“You’re both wrong about security cameras,” says Hardison, who has looked at more footage than both of them combined, and hits his last few keystrokes before he can shut the laptop, work done, and argue with them for a few more minutes until Eliot admits it’s time to go to bed.

[bizarrelittlemew]

i can't wait to be 30+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 40+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 50+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 60+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 70+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 80+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 90+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to look back on my life and know that i loved things deeply and passionately and was inspired to create and was part of communities with incredible people from all over the world brought together by the stories that touched us

[foldingfittedsheets]

At this point in our relationship my betrothed is well versed in my compulsive need to help animals. It wasn’t part of their upbringing but it was a huge part of mine. So now whether it’s lost dogs or injured birds they know that for me it’s not a matter of convenience, it’s just the only possible option.

My most notable rescue took place during one of the least opportune times. We were watching a friends boxer puppy, Bella. The dog was dumber than a box of rocks and I took deep offense that at six months old she still didn’t know her own name. My betrothed and I were working with her on that as well as leash manners, so we walked her frequently.

On our way home from a walk I looked across the street and saw a cat. My betrothed didn’t need to ask, it was simply a given that faced with a cat I’d go say hello, so they waited with Bella as I crossed the road.

As I approached the cat several things caught my attention. The first was that he wasn’t wearing a collar. The second was that his coat was greasy and disheveled- this was not a cat that was thriving if he didn’t have energy to groom. The third thing was that he was way too skinny, with bones jutting out from his shabby coat.

The fourth thing I noticed was that this cat was a purebred Bengal.

Now, I understand that it’s suspect to identify cats as bengals. Many people see tabbies and call them bengals. But as a teenager I became obsessed with these cats and went on a hyper obsessive deep dive. I spent hours reading about them, looking at pictures, and dreaming about Bengal cats.

The cat in front of me had unmistakable rosettes, the narrow frame, piercing eyes, and from a very rough estimation probably cost thousands of dollars. There was no world in which he should be wandering my neighborhood with no collar and his ribs jutting out.

Which all led me to one conclusion. He was lost.

The second I realized that it was over. It wasn’t a matter of thinking the situation through it was a simple conclusion: he was lost so I would help him by any means necessary.

This sweet cat showed he was friendly and trotted right over to greet me. I pet him and tentatively went for a lift. He did not care for that. Suddenly we were tussling, and it was instantly clear to me that he was going to stay lost if I couldn’t restrain him, so we pitted all our wiles against each other and at one point I had him agonizingly by just a toe but I refused to let go and finally I had him in my arms, one hand scruffing him and the other supporting his weight.

That’s when I noticed a couple things. There was blood dripping down my elbow. Across the street Bella was going crazy barking and pulling toward me and the cat. And my betrothed was giving me an agonized look.

Without a word they started power walking Bella back to our house. I followed at a slower pace, keeping my grip on this poor lost cat.

It was a warm summer afternoon and several neighbors were out chatting. They saw the circus parade of my betrothed dragging a yelping puppy and me following holding a screaming cat.

Oh yeah. So I forgot to mention. Bengals are not normal cats. They’re bred back with a wild cat and their vocalizations are on a completely different level. The cat in my arms wasn’t meowing or yowling. Instead he was making one long continuous eldritch wailing, oscillating in rage and distress.

My neighbors saw this, me, stonefaced carrying a cat who was casting evil spells with his voice, blood dripping down my arm, while a puppy frantically fought my betrothed to reach us, and they laughed.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more offended that no one offered any assistance, but it was fine. I knew I could count on my betrothed. I slowed my steps slightly again when I saw my betrothed round our corner. I knew they would kennel the puppy and bring a cat crate for me.

Sure enough, I rounded the corner and they had our door open, crate at the ready. I popped the Bengal into the carrier and we shut him into the bathroom.

Then I looked at my shaking, bloody hand. He’s scraped his back claws up me and it wasn’t deep but I was bleeding heavily. Then I looked at my betrothed and started to cry.

They held me while I had a panic attack and helped me thoroughly peroxide my cuts.

“That was so brave, weren’t you scared to grab him?” they asked me.

Truly, no. I think to be brave or scared you need to actually conceptualize what you’re doing and I hadn’t. I saw a cat that needed help, and then there wasn’t options, I just acted.

They asked what my plan was and I didn’t have one. Where would we put him, in a home with three other cats and a puppy? I don’t know. I just grabbed him.

We ended up calling a friend who’s special interest is dog rescue. She brought her chip reader and a huge dog crate we could keep him in overnight with a disposable little box, food, and water.

He’d been summoning demons behind the bathroom door the whole time, making sounds previously confined to various netherworlds but she bravely uncaged him to read if he had a chip. No, to my surprise. It also turned out he was a love machine despite the ghastly sounds.

We loved on him and gave him small portions of food every fifteen minutes so he didn’t eat himself sick.

The next day we brought him to the local pet rescue, after I called ahead to warn them I was bringing in a Bengal. The lady had a very blasé attitude about this claim, clearly used to people claiming every lost tabby was a rare cat breed.

When she pulled him out of the crate she exclaimed, “Oh my god, it is a Bengal!”

“That’s what I promised. One whole ass Bengal.”

We said our goodbyes to the sweet man, and the posted him on the website as a found pet. He was picked up by his family two days later. I’ll never know how he escaped but I’m certain his family was so grateful to have him returned.

[stil-lindigo]

an aro-ace's love letter to love.

(the title "Laozi's bowl" is in reference to the famous quote by Chinese philosopher Laozi who said "It is the empty space which makes the bowl useful.")

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl found dead in a hidden room.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[panthermouthh]

And I said, “Hello, Satan

I believe it’s time to go.”

[krazieka2]

I've played the Fire Emblem Husbando Dating Simulator Games

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

[somerandomdudelmao]

*Freneticaly looking into the other chapthers after relizing the last one was at the same time of the "how long do you guys live " one, so maybe there's hints to what happened to ward in the other ones*

Oh ahah yeah. Yeah there is a bunch :D

I guess I couldn’t trick you into ignoring all hints the second time anyway. It worked with c.a.s only because no one was expecting me to do that haha

[namisweatheria]

I feel like we don't discuss Nami's relationship with gender enough. Her entire character is so deeply informed by being a girl in a male-dominated pirate world and it's so interesting and so worth talking about.

The background creepiness of Bad pirate crews, which are most of them, how they tend to not have any female crew members at all, how they beckon any pretty young woman around to come play with them and join them. It's real bad. It's also like, a totally 2 dimensional portrayal of evil that is reserved for the most background of background characters.

However I think their ubiquity says a lot about how piracy is meant to be perceived by the public in One Piece, and is one of the strongest indicators of how prevalent misogyny is in-world.

It's very normal in One Piece for regular island inhabitants to have never met a Different class of pirate in their life. There's no reason for them to withhold judgement that maybe these pirates won't be like every crew that attacked before, and to wait and judge them by their actions. I mean frankly that would be irrationally weak self-preservation.

There are people who live peacefully under the flags of Yonkos who protect them, and feel loyalty and gratitude to them for it, but that seems to only be thing with very big name pirates. The East Blue, being the weakest and least populated, has no such plethora of powerful people and resulting turf wars.

So. Nami. Is very clearly implied to have never met any Different pirates before. I'm thinking about what that means. About how every group of pirates she stole from were creepy, dangerous men. How she started going out stealing when she was still a young child. How she didn't have a mother anymore to guide her or comfort her. How Arlong would grab her chin inappropriately, talk about her as a "human female", as property, and god knows what else.

How all the men in Arlong's crew treated her patronizingly, pretending they're all friends, teasing her and playing at respect when really not a single one of them ever stuck up for her or hesitated to accuse her of betrayal. Who were always ready to kill her if she refused to cooperate. Who grabbed her and intimidated her when they felt like it.

That's what she had to come back to after a close call with stealing from other predatory men, instead of the relief of home there was a dark, cramped room filled with endless hours of misery and isolation and blood. Where any one of her captors could barge in and demand new maps, work faster, where did you go, you took too long again this time. Endless threats and incursions.

I'm thinking about that her fight scene in Alabasta, where she tumbles and rips off her cape and uses it to catch her enemy's spikes, before leaping to her feet and running out the back door, all in one moment. How it makes her enemy reconsider her and think, "so the girl's not a total novice at fighting after all." What that implies about her experiences as a young thief. The times she wasn't fast or clever enough and had to fight and claw her way out. Why she always carried a staff and a knife. Why she was the only one before Chopper who had any medical knowledge or experience.

You know she was stitching herself up. And the weapons, how do you think she learned to use those? If any of the Arlong Pirates helped her it wasn't out of kindness and it wasn't gentle.

Then I think about Nojiko, and Bellemere's memory, and the only softness in a hard life. How easily Nami connects to every young woman experiencing hardship that she meets. How completely she dismisses the struggles of men unless they mean something to her and are going through something terrible. The way that Nami only has sympathy for women and children is easily noticeable in-text, but it's also something confirmed in those words by the author. And it's clearly because of the life she lived, the men who had all the power and only abused it, who saw her as nothing but a girl to take advantage of, without anyone aside from her sister clearly knowing and caring about any of it.

Nami clearly isn't bitter, she doesn't think the world owes her recompense, on the contrary she knows she is far from the only person in the world to suffer the things she has suffered. She is endlessly reaching out and kind, but only to those that she isn't sure would get help without her. Certainly, before Luffy, Usopp, and Zoro, no man ever reached out a hand to her without an ulterior motive.

I think when she sees a girl in trouble, a girl biting her lip to hold in a scream of grief, a girl running in the woods away from a monster, a girl captured by pirates, she sees someone who no one is coming for. Who no one will stick up for. A person without allies in a world against her. Whether it's actually true in this case or not, she runs straight for that girl anyways every single time.

[bluewolfangel01]

Ghost Lilith

Anybody else sometimes forget about Lilith outside of season 1 unless she's brought up again on, what feels like, rare occasions?

Sometimes I do

I kinda wish she had more of a presence in later seasons, the other season stories are fine without don't get me wrong but I think it would just be cool to have a ghost/spirit Lilith pop up every now and then that only Mc is aware of or something like that

Ive seen a headcanon from someone that sometimes ghost Lilith helps Mc cheat in tests or they just chat sometimes and I love it to bits

I like to imagine that sometimes Mc will go to Lilith's room (bet yall forgot about the room too!) in the HoL and just chat with her ghost to either de-stress or have some time away from everyone else, especially when the brothers get really rowdy

I feel like when Mc is more worn down then normal and they don't feel like they could go to any of the brothers or other boys, they'd go to Lilith and that she'd try her absolute best to help her descendant/brothers' lover cause fate only knows what would happen if Mc actually snapped from everything

And also cause she cares a lot for them in general

Ghost Lilith would definitely play sneaky pranks on all the brothers and she'd either get Mc in on em or would make sure they were present when she does em

Ghost Lilith and Mc are quite the devious pair, maybe even more so the Satan and Belphie

I mean one is a ghost who is only able to be truly noticed by 1 person, and that said person is so powerful they have to wear a special op ring so they don't make the 3 realms collapse from their mere existence

Mc and Lilith be having tea in her room while the rest of the house is on fire and being destroyed frfr

Credit to @sister-lucifer for the divider

[theladyragnell]

Exchanging gifts for the first time: E/R

(This one Fought Me for no reason I can discern, but hopefully it does the trick!)

It’s taken them several years to invent what Joly dramatically calls The Birthday Party, with the capital letters every time even though he’s a slow texter anyway. Five of them have birthdays in the baking-hot months of June and July, and there was a year or two full of bar crawls and restaurant meals and rooftop parties where they all reached August exhausted and a little sick of each other’s company, so when Jehan, whose birthday is last in the sequence, suggested they just have a joint party in July, everyone was relieved to agree.

And then everybody wanted to give gifts and it felt weird for half of them to be opening gifts and the other half not, and then they all looked at each other at their half-hearted Christmas gathering, a holiday none of them feels quite easy celebrating, and then The Birthday Party became what it is, a chance for everyone to pass things around. Nobody gets special gifts for everyone, with that many to buy, but they pass around fancy chocolate bars and bottles of craft cider and handmade cards and it’s good. It’s better than awkward parties focused around one person.

Grantaire loves The Birthday Party. It’s one of his favorite nights of the year, and he spends the weeks before it closeted in his apartment, soberer and happier than he usually is, making matched sets of little paintings of the Musain or caricatures of everyone or handcarved soap dishes.

It’s just that this year, he and Enjolras are dating.

He’s very happy about that, to be clear, happy enough that he feels a little drugged most days, happy enough to embarrass himself if he examines it too closely, but it means he doesn’t have to restrain his foolish desires to give Enjolras lavish personal gifts anymore, and the consequence of that is that he no longer has any ideas for lavish personal gifts.

And Enjolras won’t care about that, obviously he won’t. Enjolras’s gift to The Birthday Party every year is a pot of something delicious to eat and a handwritten card each about how much he loves them, something Grantaire was unable to deal with when the notes for him were grudging and doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with now that they’re sincere. Enjolras doesn’t care about gifts and lives in a tragically spartan apartment largely because he’s too lazy to hang anything, and Grantaire isn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary at The Birthday Party except maybe a kiss.

But he still wants to, and his friends are not helpful when he tries to subtly ask them what to do, so he finally caves in, makes a terrible choice, and asks Enjolras.

“I could tell you what I’m giving you,” Enjolras suggests in a meditative tone, propping his chin up on his hands where he’s laying on his stomach in Grantaire’s bed. Grantaire gets the urge to paint him in lush oils, but he gets that urge at least once a day, so it’s pretty easy to ignore. “If that would be easier.”

Grantaire doesn’t particularly care about surprises, but he has his pride. “Don’t do that, that’s one of those things that nobody says is bad luck but which really ought to be bad luck. Shaking one’s presents, of course, is a time-honored tradition, but hearing what they are from the giver? Unthinkable.”

“I’ll like anything,” says Enjolras. “It doesn’t matter to me what you give me, or if you give me anything at all. I’ll still be here.” And then, after some silence and one of his penetrating stares, “I made yours.”

“Noted, I’ll leave the diamonds at home and will only do a string of pearls if I dive for them myself.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes and encourages Grantaire to go to sleep, but it does, much as Grantaire hates to admit it, help.

He doesn’t wake the next morning overcome with inspiration, but he finds his way to it, taking time away from his gifts for everyone else to work on Enjolras’s.

The Birthday Party is as rowdy as ever, when it comes. Grantaire’s block prints impress everyone, and Enjolras’s curry is, as ever, delicious. As the night starts breaking apart, people admitting they have to go home, the more personal gifts come out, the ones they all put off so nobody feels left out or pressured. Grantaire, who finds sharing his feelings with Enjolras more embarrassing now that they’re reciprocated than he did before, waits until Enjolras is finished with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, until Joly has draped a new scarf far too hot for the season around Grantaire’s shoulders, to take Enjolras aside.

“You settled on something,” Enjolras says, and smiles.

Grantaire, flustered more than he cares to admit that he is by the smile and the situation and his stupid idea, produces the envelope that’s been weighting down his pocket all day, four pages densely written in his horrible handwriting that alternates between crabbed and flourishing, his own version of Enjolras’s yearly letters, only he’s never said in one paragraph what he could say in twenty. “I’ll do better next year, when I’m less nervous, but I thought—people give gifts they’d appreciate themselves, right? So this is me trying that out.”

Enjolras takes the envelope and opens it, breaking the wax seal Grantaire put on because he does have some standards, and only makes it a sentence or two again before he stops, which is good, because Grantaire might combust if he’s forced to watch Enjolras read that letter. “I do appreciate it, and I’ll read it when I won’t embarrass both of us,” he says, and produces a small package. “And we had the same thought, I think.”

Inside the package, of course, is a small canvas, maybe ten centimeters on a side if Grantaire were to care to measure it, with a very careful painting of Grantaire’s couch painted on it, every bit as earnest and every bit as unskilled as Grantaire’s letter. “Definitely the same thought,” says Grantaire, and has to swallow several times before he can say anything else. Even then, he has to seize on poor Feuilly as he walks by, knowing Enjolras will have something for him to give them both a break.

They both go back to Grantaire’s apartment when The Birthday Party is over and Grantaire puts his new canvas in pride of place next to his bed while Enjolras is brushing his teeth and then falls asleep before Enjolras ever makes it to bed.

When he wakes up in the morning, Enjolras is still in bed, a rare late morning, with all the pages of Grantaire’s letter arrayed on his lap and his stupidly beautiful nose a little red with leftover tears. “I love you too,” he says when he sees Grantaire is awake.

Grantaire didn’t write the words in the letter, they felt too soon, but of course Enjolras knew what he meant. He’s made a study of getting to the heart of Grantaire’s torrents of words. “I love you,” he says, belated but no less true, and lets Enjolras carefully fold the pages of the letter up and put them to the side before he presses him back into the pillows.

[charismaofobedience]

Nu carnival is a great game because you have so many things being represented such as

Garu and Karu - System rep with a pretty good writing and a trauma behind their system forming. dumb puppyboy rep

Rei - Hypersexuality and the dehumanization of self to the point you view sex as nothing more than a coin for a certain time. brat power bottom who can't shut up

Olivine - Religious guilt and finding your own place in society without others expectations. huge tits (bottom version)

Yakumo - The struggles of controlling oneself to not hurt those who you love while also learning to accept others love. constant struggler disorder

Edmond - Repressed sexual desires and learning to embrace those and be yourself among those you trust. anime tsundere disorder

Aster - Being 'born' out of necessity and need to someone to eventually have them leave you with no reasonings or explanations with you having to solve things on your own, without someone you depended on. capitalist transmasc twink

Morvay - Same as Aster but also being constantly equated to just your sexual self and having others treating you as simply that or how dumb you are when you're so much more than that. slutty bimbo (male) (not a himbo) rep

Blade - Being deemed as defective due to the way you simply behaved when still young while noticing the nature of others during that time and being made to fit the others ideals of you so you weren't left aside. being just a silly goofy guy :3

Dante - Having to assume heavy responsibilities at a young age and how this affects one in their future while also having those who don't know you judge you for your harshness when you are simply trying your best. bad dick game

Quincy - Having others taking your help while at the same time being afraid of you and keeping you at distance due to this fear. huge tits (top version), sleepy disorder

Kuya - Feeling ostracized by those you know by your simple nature and who you are as a person, being left all alone by simply feeling like no one could understand you. knotting and mpreg kink

Eiden - Growing up in an orphanage. Being in a low-key shitty workplace. Suddenly being dragged to a new place you don't know anyone in and having to adapt yourself to it. Being put responsibilities and titles upon you that you simply weren't prepared for. having others hopes put upon you while at the same time others doubt your own aptitude to the job. Being compared to someone who came before you and how you are nothing when compared to them. and perhaps the most important thing the struggles of sluts in modern gay society and having to deal with your polycule where all the members are lowkey freaks

[foldingfittedsheets]

One sunny day when I was in high school I was walking home alone. The sun was shining, gentle wind rustled the treetops. I was just starting to be able to see that beauty again. I had been depressed for a long time, but that mundane walk home felt magical to me.

On the sidewalk I saw something unusual. I was in love with life in that moment and fascinated to know more. I crouched down to observe and saw the most enchanting bug. I’d never seen anything like it. To this day I can’t remember what it looked like, only that it was as beautiful as the sun shining on the green world below.

My attention was rapt on this tiny magical creature living in such a massive and wondrous world, wondering what it was and marveling that I’d never seen anything like it.

I didn’t hear the girls come up behind me on the sidewalk. But suddenly there was a leg beside me. I wasn’t embarrassed to be caught looking at a bug. I was glad someone else might come observe this tiny wonder with me.

Her foot shot up and stomped down abruptly, crushing the object of my interest. I looked up at her.

I didn’t know either of the girls standing above me. They had seen a stranger and decided to punish her for behaving in a way they considered unacceptable. I looked up at the face of the girl who had killed my bug, trying to understand her thoughtless malice.

I think she had expected me to be upset or visibly shaken by her destruction. When I stared unblinkingly up at her she seemed to feel a brief moment of shame, shifting uneasily.

Then she and her friend turned and walked away without a word spoken.

[pizzaqueen]

A snippet from a future fic I'll probably never write, where Steve is a widower with two teenage kids, and he and Eddie randomly meet up, rekindling their old flame. This is when they've been together a while:

“Thank you,” Steve says, coming up behind Eddie at the bathroom sink.

Eddie pauses, catching Steve's eye in the mirror. “What for?” he asks, mouth foamy with toothpaste.

Steve slips his hands along Eddie's hips, hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder. “For loving my kids.”

“You don't—” Toothpaste dribbles down Eddie's chin and he stoops to spit what's left in his mouth into the sink, gathering his hair to one side. He rinses his mouth out, wipes his face with a towel, then turns to Steve. “You don't have to thank me for that. Of course I love them.”

“Not everyone I've dated has.”

“They're idiots.” Eddie grabs the hem of Steve's shirt, pulling him close. “I mean, first of all, they're part of you, and I don't think I could love you and not love them. But...” He trails off, a small smile tilting his lips. “They're amazing kids.”

Pride swells in Steve's chest; he slides his arms around Eddie's waist and says, “They are.”

“And I'm pretty damn honored I get to be part of their lives,” Eddie says, “so thank you,” and he butts his head gently against Steve's.

Steve huffs and slides his hands up Eddie's back, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love you.” He presses a kiss to Eddie's neck.

“I love you too.”

“And they both love you as well.”

Eddie lets out a shuddering breath. Steve knows how nervous Eddie was, when they started dating, that he wouldn't be welcomed, but it's almost like he's always been part of their family now. “Good to know,"”Eddie says.

Steve holds Eddie a little tighter. All those years ago, back in Hawkins, when they ended things, Steve thought he'd never see Eddie again. But here they are, together—a family—and Steve's never letting him go this time.

[ankahikoibaat]

[IMAGE TEXT: a thread of two posts from ‘aradhna.’ @/thebitterbeast.bsky.social.

POST ONE: me whenever it is clear either via marketing, interviews or the media itself that yet another Star Wars writer/director is ignoring the Buddhist and other Eastern influences on the Jedi to portray them as a flavour of Christian/Catholic and/or an institution not a religious order of monks:

POST TWO: *looks at said media* oh so this is just licensed fanfic then.

(hey Disney if you're just licensing fanfic now, I can direct you to some great ones that actually respect the real life religions and cultural influences of the main draw to Star Wars. heck, I wrote some!)]