#takes up half the bed

[jimalim]

I had such a nice day today and a huge part of it was because I spent the day in the guest bedroom chilling watching tv (while my laser was running in my room) just the change of scenery was lovely!

[freefallintothevoid]

Dick Grayson's unmatched success as a child vigilante makes a lot more sense when you remember the Court of Owls was a thing and that Dick was meant to be the next Grey Son.

There is no way that someone at Haly's Circus wasn't there keeping an eye on him while he grew up. A future weapon needs to be trained and monitored after all, and a circus, a place where weird skills are completely normal, is actually a great place to secretly train a child.

You know, just some knife tricks that translated really well into actual fighting. How to get out of restraints and pick locks while under a time limit. Death defying acrobatic stunts that coincidentally do wonders for parkouring. That sort of thing. Nothing that seems out of place for a boy growing up around circus performers to learn, but would literally any where else.

I mean, while I fully believe that most kids would want to kill the man responsible for their parents deaths, Dick was weirdly prepared to go through it. He tracked down Zucco with way more ease than any normal child should have too. He became the first child vigilante, for goodness sake. The first Robin! He only started getting formal training after he basically forced Bruce into it!

Bruce himself has no idea that this kind of competency in a child is unusual, considering he was much too blinded by the similarities between his and Dick's tragic orphanhoods.

Alfred is in a similar boat because he’s desensitized to weird children after he somehow managed to successfully raise Bruce 'The Batman' Wayne, so he doesn't clock the hyper-competency as abnormal either.

By the time the other batkids start popping up (Jason 'The Audacity' Todd, borderline-street rat with no fear) (Tim 'the greatest stalker in Gotham history' Drake, child genius, also bullied his way into becoming Robin) (Barbara 'raised by the only uncorrupt cop in gotham' Gordon) (Stephanie 'daddy issues and spite' Brown) (Duke 'Pretends he's the normal one and people believe him' Thomas) it's too late.

It would also explain how Dick got along so well with Damian out of all of them. Similar childhood with different approaches and all that. On some subconscious level, Dick recognises and resonates with the murderous ten year old assassin with strong familial ties to a secret elite assassin organization.

It isn't until after the whole Court of Owls and Grey Son reveal that suddenly Dick realises a whole lot of things about his childhood that suddenly make a lot more sense.

[luckyartdrawer]

Hello good sir, I am sure you have well intentions! :)

I wanted to do some lighting practice for fun and now I have this sly devil. I'm pretty proud of how he turned out and how fast I was able to make this! :3

Welp. Now I kinda wanna turn him into a character. we'll see if I ever do, hehe :P

[bittsandpieces]

I think if we try hard enough we could sexualize migraines

[gideonnavsenormousbiceps]

shang qinghua and shen qingqiu would be so funny as college roommates. because here's the thing, they would definitely both blame each other for basically everything and be like "he's the worst roommate ever!" to their respective boyfriends and then it turns out they're both actually just awful roommates. Like shen qingqiu probably sucks at domestic chores like loading the dishwasher and always does it wrong no matter how many times he's corrected, but shang qinghua is probably up all night typing abd playing music obnoxiously loud (he has one of those really clicky keyboards and also gets way too enthusiastic about typing) and leaves empty energy cans/Ramen cups everywhere. Will either of them move out, or learn communication skills? No, of course not they prefer to complain

[rileys-battlecats]

*guy that hasn't slept properly in several days voice* damn why am i so tired

[9ofspades]

It’s disability pride month, and if you are disabled in the U.S. from Long Covid I want you to know that you’re not alone, and you’re valid in whatever you feel. Whether that’s sorrow at your new problems or rage at society for failing you, you are valid, and it is truly messed up that society is continuing to fail you.

[tokiro07]

Love triangle?

I prefer love molecules

...Wait, is that why they're called polycules???

[coldlikethestars]

fool's fate by robin hobb is like. you will read about the deepest and most beautiful tragic meaningful heartbreaking soul crushing love story you will ever read in your life and you will feel emotions that you didn't know existed and you'll hurt in ways that you didn't think possible. and then you finish the book and you have to go on with your life and pretend you are Normal when actually your brain chemistry has been altered for the rest of your life

[s0fter-sin]

it’s the sound that tips him off.

it’s late, half-past hell by his last count, and mactavish knows there shouldn’t be a single soul in the showers this time of night. though he’s sure if he asked, he’d be told a soul isn’t in there.

just a ghost.

he almost chokes on the thick steam filling the locker room; humid and hazy and the perfect cover. or it would be, if the man collapsed in the far stall cared about hiding.

mactavish hates himself a little for the low sigh that falls from his lips. he wishes he wasn't so disappointed; that the promises he's heard over and over and watched be broken as many times hadn't wedged their way into his heart and convinced him that maybe, maybe this could be the time it sticks.

he doesn't know what's worse; the disappointment or the lack of surprise.

he holds his breath through the steam and leans over the limp body; stinging hot water hitting his back, instantly soaking through his clothes and already starting to burn. he flicks the tap enough to take the bulk of the heat out and straightens; a groan startling out of the man beneath him at the sudden lash of tepid water.

mactavish crouches, knees clicking and hooks a hand under his bicep to pull him up straight against the wall. if there was any vomit on his skin, it's been washed away by the pelting stream and he supposes he can count himself lucky for that. he tilts his limp head back and slips his fingers into his mouth; holding down his tongue and ignores the way it lazily jolts under his fingers to check his airway.

clear.

another small victory.

mactavish pulls his fingers out and cups his chin, keeping him tilted up and moves in the way of the water again so he can pull at his eyelid.

the eye he's met with is cloudy, so dilated there's hardly a ring of blue left.

he sighs again; hand falling away and letting his eye fall shut. "god damnit, riley."

riley moans, all his weight resting on the hand holding his jaw.

"aye, 'm talking ‘bout you," he grunts tiredly.

he lets riley's head fall forward to grab his arm, pulling him away from the wall to sit behind him; propping his body up against his chest. he leans his head back over his shoulder, keeping his face out of the water and his airway open just in case he hasn't actually finished throwing up.

he takes the rag riley'd half-managed to soap up and mechanically runs it over him; cataloguing new bruises and cuts and checking if the old ones are healing. sickly yellow fingerprints ring his hips, red splotches paint his ribs; too new to have settled into the deep purple he knows they’ll become.

riley slowly makes more noise as he rubs life into his body; still lying limp against his front but his head's starting to roll restlessly on his shoulder. he swipes between his legs and carefully doesn't think a single thing about what he finds.

"sean?" he rasps and mactavish's hand stills; eyes falling shut. he bites his check, hand clenching around the rag tight enough to shake and breathes hard out his nose.

he doesn't say a word, just forces himself to go back to cleaning.

he's not sure what would come out of his mouth if he did.

riley isn't conscious enough to hear him anyway.

he runs his fingers over his inner elbows for tracks and manages to muster some relief when he doesn't find any. seems to be a pill and booze night; far from the worst condition he's found him in.

he rinses him off, running a curtesy hand over his shaved head only for it to fall back to his jaw; his thumb stroking over the thick scar carved into his cheek.

"you gotta stop doin' this," he whispers.

he isn’t sure if he’s talking to riley or himself.

mactavish gathers up riley's too-light body into his arms and turns off the shower. his head lolls into his throat and he throws a towel over his dripping body and another over his shoulder. it doesn't stop him from tracking water all the way to his quarters but he'd like to see someone try to put in a complaint about it.

he lays out the other towel on the bed and sets riley down; moving his body into the recovery position in an all-too familiar routine. he dries him enough that he won't soak the covers as he pulls them up to his chest and kicks the waste bin within grabbing distance of the bed.

he goes to pull off his sodden clothes when a different noise makes him freeze.

a low sniffle.

mactavish slowly turns back to the bed to find riley's eyes squinting open; glazed with tears as he kneads at the covers.

he stares at him for a moment as he looks around the room and those hazy eyes lock on him for the first time. "cap'n?"

he swallows. "aye; s'just me, riley."

his hand pokes out from under the covers and for all the promises he's made himself - all the “never again”s and “this is the last time”s - at the end of the day, he's weak.

he sits on the side of the bed and takes riley's hand in his; already so cold after nearly boiling himself alive.

"y' mad a' me?" he sniffs.

mactavish runs his tongue over his lip and slowly shakes his head. "no, i'm not mad at you."

"prom'se?" he pushes.

he reaches out and caresses his temple with his thumb. his hand almost covers his head and it cuts like a knife to remember just how small riley is. "aye," he says, hushed. "i promise."

riley's eyes fall shut, voicelessly murmuring 'promise’ to himself over and over.

"I’ll ge’ bett'r," he slurs and between one breath and the next, he's out.

mactavish sighs, running his hand in a final pass over his head and stares at a face that looks so much younger in sleep; bruised and sallow skin hidden in the shadows. "i know you will."

he presses a slow kiss to his forehead, shutting his eyes against the grief that wells in his heart and gets up to pull a chair over to the bed; settling in for another long night's vigil of watching his broken lieutenant sleep, ready to tilt him over if he throws up, eyes locked on the slow rise and fall of his chest fearing tonight may finally be the time it stops.

[skyward-floored]

Don’t read fics at 3 am you get weird dreams

[ideologyofone]

Oh okay this one’s got a little kick to it!

[onse-chill]

Cat Dad submission 🧡🐈

[surreal-duck]

the farmer, the drawing and spring onions

Quitting his job was easy enough. Throwing everything away to follow his late grandfather's letter to a small town in the middle of nowhere, not so much.

It's been a couple weeks since Midori had moved into Stardew Valley. The old, abandoned farm was a piece of work, nothing like Midori remembered when his grandfather was still alive. Looking over the field, he could clearly recall his grandfather's figure, hunched over and hard at work among the season's harvest. After his retirement, and Midori's parents setting up shop by the city instead, the place eventually fell into disrepair. Instead of the carefully planted crops and lovingly cared for fields, in his view was a thick, overgrown forest, scattered boulders and logs, and an only growing invasion of weeds.

Trudging along the dirt path with the morning harvest, Midori made his way into the nearby town. Birdsong filled the air, the crunching of fallen leaves beneath his feet offering accompaniment. Upon arrival, a familiar voice called out to him.

"Midori-kun! Already hard at work this morning, huh?" Black hair with red streaks bounded towards him.

"Just the usual, Tetora-kun," Midori sighed, "I didn't think managing a farm on my own would be this much work..."

Between wrangling the ever-expanding weeds, tripping over rocks and fending off crows, he could only wonder how his grandfather had dealt with it all on his lonesome. An especially nasty one had nipped at his hands in a show of challenge. How gramps put up with this for decades remained a mystery to him.

His friend laughed, "Well, if you ever need any help, just give me a shout! I'm sure Shinobu-kun wouldn't mind lending a hand either."

The townsfolk were nice, and he had made a few friends already, like Tetora and his friend Shinobu. The saloon's bartender Morisawa had given him a hearty welcome despite Midori's protests, and his partner Shinkai was... rather eccentric, having beckoned Midori to the beach with a barely legible soaked note in the mailbox, only to appear out of the water to hand him a fishing rod and float away. He tried not to think much of it.

Parting with Tetora, Midori watched as his new friend raced away to the side of tall, slightly intimidating, muscular man. Must be the chief he's talked so much about, he thought.

Midori stopped by the bulletin board hanging outside the general store on a hunt for new requests. With the farm needing repair, money for buying new crops and setting aside any change for food, any extra funds would help. Whether its slaying slimes, mining copper pieces or fishing for sea cucumbers, he'll take them if it's within his ability.

The board was as crowded as usual, fresh papers stacked on top of the torn, weathered ones. Midori's eyes skimmed through the calendar, taking notes on the few upcoming birthdays of the various townspeople. Maybe he'll pick up a present or two if he had the time.

That was when a certain poster caught his eye.

Obscured by and tucked away behind several other fliers, a request for spring onions was put up, accompanied by a crudely drawn illustration. Shaky lines drawn haphazardly, a misshapen silhouette, and something curiously akin to a pair of eyes. One might have mistaken it for a sort of cursed talisman, it was almost as if some malevolent aura was emanating from it.

Horrendous as it may be to anyone else, Midori was awestruck at the masterpiece before him. Was it hand drawn? Who was responsible for such a work of art? How could anyone hide it away like that? He was brimming with curiosity. After a few moments of admiring the drawing, he turned his attention the the words below, where 'Please contact Fushimi Yuzuru' was handwritten in a neat font.

Midori couldn't recall meeting a Fushimi Yuzuru before. Maybe he missed someone while greeting the townsfolk? Pelican Town wasn't very big, but the possibility remains.

I'm sure I have some spring onions with me from yesterday... Midori rummaged through his bag, confirming as such, and proceeded to enter the store. Though, instead of the old geezer that usually manned the cash register, he was met with the sight of a dark blue-haired man, one who seemed not much older than him.

With his back turned towards the door, he had yet to acknowledge Midori's presence. He wore a gentle smile as he talked into the phone by his ear.

"...Yes, Young Master, I understand. Are you eating well? If I so much as catch word of you slacking on your studies, please bear in mind I won't hesitate to head there myself and whip you back into shape." A few audible protests spilled from the speaker as the man only chuckled. "Then, have a good day, Young Master. You know you can always give me a call. I know you weren't very thrilled by the rooming arrangements beginning this semester, but please do try your best to get along with Tsukasa-sama."

Having noticed Midori's arrival, the unknown cashier quickly ended the call and turned towards him with a polite smile.

"How may I help you?"

"Oh, um, I have some crops from my farm I wanted to sell..."

Midori quickly unloaded the contents of his bag, looking up for a moment at the young man as he priced his crops accordingly. Upon closer inspection, he found that his slightly messy blue hair, long eyelashes and the mole under his right eye were rather... attractive?

He said something about a young master... is he from some well off family? Assorted theories crossed Midori's mind. What would someone like that be doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

Midori snapped out of his thoughts once the young man spoke up.

"You must be the new farmer, I presume?"

"Ah, yes! It's Takamine Midori."

"Then, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Takamine-sama." He handed Midori a sack of coins in exchange for his crops, once again with that perfect customer service smile of his.

Takamine-sama? "A-ah, same here..."

Midori turned to leave the store, before suddenly recalling the request for spring onions he had taken earlier. Whipping his head back to the sales counter, he asked, "Actually, before I go, do you know anyone who goes by Fushimi Yuzuru here?"

The cashier stared at him with slight surprise. "Yes, that would be me. Is there something you need from me?"

Midori's face quickly morphed into that of surprise, and then awe and excitement. He attempted to stutter some sort of reply, to no avail, before remembering his original goal. After a few moments of fumbling around his bag, Midori took out the spring onions and held them towards him.

"Um, I saw you were looking for these from the request you put up outside, and I just happened to have foraged some last night, so...!"

"Oh! Why, thank you very much."

Yuzuru inspected the the vegetables closely, brushing off dirt here and there, before returning to meet Midori's gaze with the brightest smile of the day. He took a handful of extra coins from his apron pocket, much more than what was initially promised on the poster.

"Do keep the change. I've left that request up for a few days now, and was beginning to doubt anyone would take it." A drop of sweat trickled by his face. "Perhaps adding the illustration wasn't the brightest idea..."

Midori's eyes widened.

"Wait, so... you really did draw it yourself?"

"Hm? Yes, why?"

He squeezed the poster a bit closer. Midori couldn't believe his ears. Here, right here in front of him, was the very genius whose undoubtedly skillful hands had drawn the most awe-inspiring piece he had ever laid his eyes on. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, any sign of his usual tired expression was now wiped away with the pure, unbridled excitement he displayed. By no means would he let the chance of a lifetime slip right past.

A few onions were knocked aside as Midori fervently reached across the counter. Taking Yuzuru's hands in his, not even the man's startled face could deter the sparkling eyes focused solely on him.

If there was anything Midori knew at that moment, it was that he'd want nothing more than get closer to the wonderful artist before him.

"Fushimi-san— no, Master Artist!"

"...Pardon?"

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Re-watching the Chris Evans and Ana De Armas wired autocomplete interview and once again completely distracted by the thought of a woman playing Bond and having Chris as her Bond girl... 😮‍💨😮‍💨

[toastybugguy]

sciles is the “you came” “you called” romance trope except it’s both of them all of the time, and no that doesn’t make me emotional at all it’s fine I’m totally normal about them don’t look at me