#that are barely importable into blender

[puexii]

Realized I don't have a post dedicated for Nyx despite them being an important character in the story 💥

(they are included in the meme post but still)

So I have decided I must make a post for them, with all the drawings and doodles they are included in >:] (including the ones in the meme post)

All that's left is for me to remember to do that

[mutalune]

Happy Fanfic Writer Friday! What is a fic you've posted that you think deserves more attention? What is it about?

thank you for this ask and sorry for taking literal years to respond!!!! ✨✨✨

pick a direction and walk - this was my 2019 GOBB big bang fic and it was so so so meaningful to me, it really reflected a lot of my “I’m in my early 20’s, I’m lost, I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t know what to do about not knowing, I don’t know what my purpose is, I don’t know how to find that purpose, everything feels big and overwhelming and I’m so so so lost 😞” problems at the time, and yet the story ended happily and hopefully and with a “it’s okay to just be you” kinda vibe. I was so proud of this and I’m still so proud of it even almost exactly 4 years later, and it continues to be my least-liked fic 🤷🏻

basically: Crowley and aziraphale gotta figure out wtf they’re gonna do post-apocalypse while also dealing with 1) Aziraphale’s acting WEIRD he’s wearing MODERN CLOTHES 2) Crowley’s miracles aren’t working but he’s in denial it’s fine and 3) Dagon and Michael showing up and Asking Questions that they don’t know how to answer. And they’re all gay of course

[harrysfolklore]

vogue beauty secrets - jacob elordi blurb

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

YN's Guide to Glowing Skin and Easy Everyday Makeup

"Hey everyone, It's YN," you said as you stood in your bathroom, face bare of any products and a comfortable top on, "I'm going to be talking you through my skincare routine and my everyday makeup look."

"Just so you guys know, it's really early over here," you said as you took out your products from your skincare bag, "My boyfriend is still sleeping I think," you smiled at the mention of him, "You might know him from his bathwater in the movie Saltburn, I don't know if you're familiar with that."

Playfully talking about each other in interviews was a really common thing for both of you and Jacob to do, and fans absolutely loved it.

"So first things first, gotta cleanse the face," you showed your cleanser to the camera and then applied it to your face smoothly and washed it off, "Now this face mask, has gotten me more compliments about my skin than anything else I've ever used, even Jacob is obsessed with it and steals it from me all the time," you couldn't help but mention him again, "So I will do a generous amount, which is like pea size for me."

You applied the face mask all over your face and waited 15 minutes to take it off and move on to your makeup.

"Before applying any makeup, we need to put sunscreen on," you showed the bottle to the camera, "I never leave the house without this, I have one in my bag at all times. It's so important."

You rubbed the product all over your face, making sure to cover every inch of your skin correctly.

"So, let's start," you grabbed your makeup bag and took your foundation out, "I'm obsessed with this illuminous silk foundation, I discovered one time I visited Jacob on the Euphoria set and I saw the makeup artists using it, it has been my go to ever since."

You grabbed your pink beauty blender and gently applied the foundation on your face, getting closer to the camera to show the process better.

"I learned how to do my makeup by watching how other people did it," you said as you applied the product on your nose, "I think I've gotten very good at it, or at least I would like to believe so."

"Now, It's time for concealer," you showed the product to the camera, "We're running low people, someone might be stealing some from me," you said as you tried to grab the most product you could and applied it under your eyes, "Okay, concealer is done, now let's do some contour."

Just as you grabbed your brush to apply the contour, you heard some noises coming from the bedroom, "Guys I think Jacob just woke up," you said as you moved the brush around your face, "So we have to be very quiet so he doesn't crash my video, okay?"

You heard the bedroom door open and some footsteps down the stairs, and you guessed that Jacob was looking for you in the kitchen.

"Alright, contour is done," you continued in a hushed tone, "Now, let's move on to blush." You picked up a peachy blush and lightly applied it to the apples of your cheeks, blending it out with your fingers. "I love this blush because it gives such a natural flush to the cheeks, perfect for everyday wear."

Next, you reached for a neutral eyeshadow palette and selected a soft brown shade. "For my everyday makeup look, I like to keep it simple on the eyes," you explained as you applied the eyeshadow to your lids, blending it into the crease. "Just a wash of color so I don't look completely dead."

"Now, for my favorite part - mascara," you exclaimed as you held up a mascara tube, "I think mascara is a game-changer. It instantly opens up your eyes and makes you look more awake."

You applied a few coats of mascara to your lashes, making sure to cover from the roots to the tips.

"YN?" you heard Jacob's voice calling for you, making you instantly laugh.

"I don't know if you guys heard, but Jacob is calling for me," you said as you checked your mascara in the mirror, "Let's ignore him until he figures out I'm here."

"Now, last but not least, lips," you said as you grabbed a nude lipstick. "I like to keep it natural with a nude shade for everyday wear." You applied the lipstick to your lips, finishing off the look.

Just on cue as you applied the last touched of lipstick, you heard the bedroom door creak open behind you. You turned around to see Jacob standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you greeted him with a smile, trying to stifle a giggle at his sleepy state.

"Morning, love," Jacob blinked a few times, trying to wake up fully, "What are you up to?"

"I'm filming a skincare and makeup video for Vogue," you explained, motioning to the camera set up on the counter. "I was just finishing up, actually."

Jacob walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder to look at the camera.

"Oh, am I interrupting?" he asked, glancing at the camera with a devilish grin.

"Just a little," you chuckled, "But it's okay, you can join if you want."

"Nah, I'll let you finish," Jacob leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, "I'll just be in the background, quietly judging your makeup skills," he teased, earning a playful swat from you.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I've gotten pretty good at this," you said, pretending to be offended.

"I know, I know," Jacob laughed, planting another kiss on your cheek, "You always look beautiful, even without makeup," he said sweetly.

You couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. "Thank you, babe, you're really sappy," you replied softly, turning to give him a quick kiss.

"I'll let you finish your video. I'll make us some breakfast," he called out as he disappeared from view.

"Well, it looks like I've got breakfast waiting for me," you turned back to the camera, a smile still lingering on your lips, "I better wrap this up," you said to the camera, giving a little wave. "Thanks for watching, and thank you Vogue for having me, I hope some of this beauty tips are helpful for all of you. Bye!"

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Could you write about stan or Ford taking care of their sick s/o? I've been suffering from an awful head cold this past week and it sucks i could really use the comfort 😭

sick days with Stan & Ford (x reader)

a/n: starting with smth sfw while i work on… other things hehehhe but I hope you’ll feel better! take your meds and let yourself rest 💌 and thank u for the ask, anon!!

Stanford Pines

the kind of man who fights interdimensional monsters but still worries if your tea is the right temperature.

he tucks you onto the couch, fussing over pillows and blankets until you’re buried like some kind of marshmallow. then he disappears into the kitchen, where you can hear pots clanging and. . . is that the blender?

when he returns, he’s holding a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a strange concoction that’s vaguely green.

“head cold or not, you need fluids. hydration is important,” he says, setting a mug of something herbal-smelling on the coffee table. “this tea is from the forests of dimension 52. the locals swear by it for respiratory ailments.”

you squint at the mug. “it’s not gonna. . . mutate me, right?”

Ford pauses, adjusting his glasses. “probably not.”

“Ford!”

he chuckles, sitting beside you with a soft sigh. “it’s perfectly safe, i’ve tested it. besides, you trust me, don’t you?”

and of course you do, even when his idea of “helping” involves interdimensional remedies that could very well grow you a third arm.

you take a tentative sip. the taste is weird, but soothing, warming you from the inside out.

“good?” he asks, watching your face expression.

“yeah,” you admit, sinking deeper into the blanket. “not bad.”

satisfied or at least faking this, he leans back, but that little crinkle in his brow never really goes away.

“you’re overthinking again,” you notice, looking at him.

“i am not,” he says, entirely unconvincing.

“Ford.”

he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “i just hate seeing you like this, i keep thinking there must be something more i can do.”

you reach out, tangling your fingers with his. “you’re doing enough, really, just stay with me, okay?”

Ford’s expression softens and he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“always.” and he stays, reading to you from one of his journals while you drift in and out of sleep. his voice is calm, comforting and every so often, he pauses to carefully check your temperature.

Stan Pines

you wake up with your throat feeling like sandpaper and your head pounding. you barely have the energy to groan, let alone drag yourself out of bed, but the world outside your room is loud. voices from the tv, Stan’s yelling at it.

with blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you stumble out and see Stan sprawled on the armchair in his striped boxers and tank top, he’s shoving popcorn into his mouth by the handful, but when he sees you, he nearly chokes on it.

“jeez, you look like somethin’ the cat dragged in. worse than waddles after he found that mud pit last week.”

you sniffle. “thanks for the pep talk, Stan.”

he waves you over as his tone softens. “c’mon, c’mere. what’s wrong? flu? cold? bubonic plague? don’t tell me you’re contagious.”

you plop next to him, dropping your head onto his shoulder. the tv’s too loud, but you can’t even complain about it.

“it’s just a cold,” you murmur. 

“cold, huh? well, that’s nothing to mess with,” you can hear the tease in his voice. “lemme get my doctor bag. got some snake oil in there that cures everything, even bad attitudes.”

he shuffles off to the kitchen, muttering about needing to find some ginger ale. he comes back with a mug of tea that looks. . . questionable. is that a bay leaf? and a handful of mints?

“drink this, kid, don’t ask questions.”

you sip and it’s awful. Stan grins as you make grimace. “told ya it’s magic. now, get cozy.”

he turns the tv down and drapes his old, scratchy afghan over you. you don’t know when it happens, maybe during some ridiculous commercial for glow-in-the-dark socks, but you fall asleep with your head still on his shoulder.

when you wake up, the tea’s gone, replaced by a cup of melted ice cream with a sticky spoon, meanwhile Stan is snoring loudly with his arm protectively thrown over you.

[cryptotheism]

why is latin the language you summon demons with???

Oh fun question!

Basically, it's not. Damn near every culture on earth has their own Malevolent Spirits who are invoked in any number of ways. For most of western occult history, there were basically two big magic languages: Classical Greek, and Hebrew.

The current media tropes about summoning demons goes all the way back to Sumer, but it bottlenecks in the Jewish Tanakh. The whole "elaborate ingredients and rituals you gotta do to summon the demon" thing is pre-semitic, but the that demons can be bound with holy symbols like the name of god is hella Jewish, and the idea that one can drive off demons with nothing but overwhelming faith in God is hella Christian. Current attitudes towards Demons are a big old blender of all of these things.

But, the reason Church Latin is so common, is because it's the Official Language of the Catholic Church.

You gotta understand that back in the 1960s, very few people knew what an exorcism was. Things like summoning demons and exorcisms we're the sort of thing you barely heard about, the realm of abandoned ancient traditions and rumored fringe practices like snake handling and speaking in tongues.

But then, I shit you not, in 1973 the Exorcist movie came out, and Catholic priests kinda became superheroes. Father Karras reciting Latin Scripture to do battle with a demon is evocative, and frankly pretty badass. It helped that The Exorcist was an amazing movie.

That date is important. 1973 was at the tail end of a big Hollywood crash. All these big studios had to back off for a bit, which led to the boom in the B-Studio system; make it cheap, sell it wide.

The Exorcist hit this cultural bullseye; it was a really good movie made when people were about to make a thousand shitty knockoffs of everything. Also the Moral Majority was barely a year away.

[stitchlingbelle]

So after a decade and a half of obsessing over the Honorverse, I got into the Vorkosigan books, and given their similarities (both space operas, first published just a few years apart, same publisher, both continuing to the present day), I can't help comparing them, particularly their politics.

And it's interesting bc I used to describe the Honorverse to friends as "a conservative man writing a progressive future". Female MC with complete gender and racial equality as the ideal, but queer people are hardly mentioned. Military service is the Highest Calling and battles are shown in minute detail. Diplomatic solutions almost never work out. Abortion is legal, sex work is legal, "unconventional" family arrangements are legal, etc. but so is duelling in multiple legal traditions. One woman gives a speech about how important women's work is but it never impacts the plot in any way. Democracy is usually a problem whereas the use of strong monarch powers is a good thing. Lots of soapboxing about the evils of socialism/ communism, people 2000 years in the future inexplicably love the American Founding Fathers. The female MC has a kid and it's a minor b-plot that doesn't impact her career in any way and no one even suggests it should.

Meanwhile, I kinda feel like the Vorkosigan books are the inverse? A liberal woman writing a conservative universe. Like, we have disabled, queer, trans, and otherly-gendered people existing on a sexist planet. There are still ethnic divides. The male MC tells a friend he can't do anything to help her with sexism bc he depends on it. One hero is an entrepreneur but capitalism corrupts the voting system and the justice system in multiple books and the Planet of No Laws and Regulations is hell. Women's power is overlooked but it shapes the entire empire. The battle scenes are barely shown and war crimes and PTSD are ever-present no matter which side you're on. Diplomacy saves the day on multiple occasions. Punitive vs restorative justice. Duelling is illegal and leads to disasters. And the overarching theme of the entire series is family and social continuity, traditionally a big preoccupation of conservatives: how do we continue the family, how do we continue our society, how do we balance tradition and the need for change as we move into the future? The whole thing to date starts and ends with the deutero-Main Character, a woman, giving up a career to have kids.

And of course both series began in the late 80s/ early 90s with all the baggage that entails and slowly evolved as their authors' thinking did. Just an absolutely fascinating juxtaposition. I am sticking them in a blender and making myself a smoothie.

[mistycreativelilacs]

Can you please write a Bruce Wayne imagine where he catches her singing or something cute like that?

Welp… it only took me -checks watch- three years to respond to this, but uh… here’s a 5000 word drabble I guess.

Kitchen Off Limits

About a year into living at Wayne manor you enacted an (ever growing) list of rules. Originally the list only had three rules on it:

1. Sunday is family day. Baring any Gotham destroying/world ending catastrophes everyone is to be in the dinning room no later than 11am for brunch followed by a previously voted on family activity.

2. Family Activity planning occurs on the first Saturday of the month, activities for the whole month will be decided then.*

*Attendance is NOT mandatory, however those who do not participate do not get to complain when we spend 3 Sundays in a row at the zoo.**

**No liberating animals from the zoo.

3. Monday thru Saturday the kitchen belongs to Alfred. Sunday morning’s the kitchen belongs to Mom*.

*That means no one, not even Alfred can enter the kitchen until AFTER brunch**.

**Yes Tim that includes you. You can wait for your morning cup of coffee***.

***ABSOLUTELY NO coffee pots, mini fridges, microwaves, blenders, hot plates, or dry food storage in your bedrooms or you WILL be personally hunting down every rodent and bug that comes crawling into the manor****.

****You can NOT train an army of cats to hunt vermin as a trade off for a mini fridge.

Certain amendments had to be made to the list with each new addition to the household. The final amendment to rule three inspired the creation of its own rule.

243. If you bring a pet into the house, YOU must personally care for it at all times. This includes feeding, grooming, walking, training and cleaning up after them as well as insure they have a proper habitat to live in*.

*Your bedroom is only a proper habitat for regular domestic animals (ie. dogs, cats, fish, small reptiles, small birds, caged rodents such as rats, Guinea pigs or hamsters and snakes, within reason - no large pythons). Large animals whether native to our region or exotic must be housed in a properly built enclosure on the grounds.

Needles to say the Wayne children kept you on your toes. Which brings us to now.

You awoke at the crack of dawn this morning to prep for the day. In a not so shocking twist, Damien had lied, cheated and outright bribed several of his siblings in order to get a zoo trip in this month. The Waynes were such regulars at the zoo (and contributed so much in donations) that they’d named an entire section after the family. The Wayne Reptile House (filled to the brim with several of the reptiles you’d ‘rescued’ from Damien’s room upon Alfred’s discovery of Damien’s unsanctioned renovation of his closet). It was important to you that the children experienced even just a smidge of normalcy amongst all the vigilantism.

You’re staring into the pantry, debating whether to do pancakes or waffles, when an old favourite song comes on the speaker. This was your favourite part of Sunday’s. Once everyone realized how serious you were about the rules, Sunday morning had become your alone time. If the kids were fighting, they handled it amongst themselves. If someone had a question, they went to Bruce or Alfred for answers. Mom was not to be disturbed.

The word Mom still brings a small smile to your face. You’d never really pictured yourself as a mother but when you’d stumbled your way into a romance with THE Bruce Wayne, he’d already gained 2 of your ever growing hoard of children. You’d stumbled your way into motherhood much the way you stumbled into Bruce’s arms.

You begin to softly hum to the song as you decide to just make pancakes and waffles. With a family full of crime fighters more was always the safer option. No one wants a repeat of Tim and Richard’s destructive fight for the last cinnamon bun. You had to spend a fortune redoing the dinning room after, replacing antiques was not cheap, and your heart still hadn’t recovered from the sticker shock. Needless to say the boys were still working off their debt by assisting Alfred in the daily runnings of the manor. As you got lost in the gargantuan undertaking of cooking for the whole Wayne clan, your gentle hums morphed to soft whispers of lyrics.

Just as you were frying the last batch of pancakes the opening chords of your and Bruce’s song came through the speakers. It would be more accurate to state that you’d unilaterally declared it your and Bruce’s song. During your second year of dating you had slowly begun introducing him to the world of romcoms. One particularly chilly fall day that year saw Bruce catching a cold. You took advantage of that to force him into a binge of some of the best and cringiest of your favourites from the 2000’s. Two particular movies seemed to make the notoriously stoic Bruce Wayne emotional. The obvious one being ‘Two Weeks Notice’, but it was the Hugh Grant, Drew Barrymore semi-musical ‘Music & Lyrics’ that would produce the perfect song for your and Bruce’s life together.

As the sounds of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore came through the speaker you began to sing in earnest.

‘I've been living with a shadow overhead

I've been sleeping with a cloud above my bed

I've been lonely for so long

Trapped in the past, I just can't seem to move on’

Your mind drifted to how you and Bruce met. Recently heartbroken and determined never to let another man hurt you, you’d sworn of men and decided to dedicate all your attention to advancing at work. Your first steps were taking the assignment no one else wanted to touch with a ten foot pole. Being Bruce Wayne’s personal assistant. Those who succeeded at such a gargantuan undertaken seemed to excel through the ranks at Wayne Enterprises, but those who fell short well, you’d heard his last personal assistant had moved back home to small town Kansas and given up the corporate ladder completely.

Your first week had been a cake walk, seeing as Bruce had been away on business meetings in Europe. It’d given you time to get settled in and a system in place. You were determined to be the best personal assistant he’d ever had.

Upon Bruce’s first day back in the office, you’d mustered up all the courage you had and waltz into his office. With barely a good morning you’d launched into a tirade of how things were going to be and that unlike his past assistants you were going to set boundaries. He’d blinked at you slowly, and you were convinced you were about to be fired. His mouth opened and the word okay seemed to unintentionally fall out. You both stood there a moment, seemingly shell shocked at the interaction, before you gathered your wits. With a pivot of your heels you rushed out your own okay before returning to your desk.

Unbeknownst to you Bruce himself had been going through a touch of heartbreak, having had a fall out with his former paramour Selina. His accounts of your first meeting paint you in a much fiercer, more beautiful light. But you’re sure he’s simply remembering the day with rose tinted glasses seeing as you had a poorly concealed coffee stain on your blouse and your hair had definitely begun its escape from the clip you’d rushed it into on the train that morning. Nevertheless he claims it was your fierce determination that stunned him into submission and not his utter exhaustion from sleep deprivation.

‘I’ve been hiding all my hopes and dreams away

Just in case I ever need ‘em again someday

I’ve been setting aside time

To clear a little space in the corners of my mind’

The weeks following your initial meeting were a full of meetings, calls and insuring your boss took proper care of himself. It took exactly three days for you to realize he’d forget to eat, four to realize he seemed to not be sleeping either.

You quietly placed a standing order with the sandwich place down a couple blocks from the building, and then methodically went through Bruce’s calendar and put a two hour meeting blackout everyday around 2pm. You’d also had the couch that sat on the wall just outside his office doors moved into his office proper. The next day you simply waltzed into his office at noon and dropped the sandwich on his desk before returning to your own desk. Two hours later you waltzed in dropping a pillow and blanket on the couch and closed the blinds without a word. As you turned to leave Bruce questioned what you were doing. You simply informed him that you’d place a permanent daily block on meetings between 2pm-4pm and that his office doors would be locked for that period of time as well.

When asked, Bruce will claim that as the day he fell in love with you.

You continued on that way for months, the world seeming to move in a blur around you. Your friends encouraged you to start dating again, but you just weren’t sure you could ever trust a man again. Besides, work was so exhausting most days that you were certain you’d simply pass out at the restaurant if you did go on a date. What a terrible first impression that would make.

It was a seemingly unremarkable Tuesday morning when the world came screaming into focus again.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can’t make it through without a way back into love

Oh’

You’d been tutting about the office while Bruce attended a meeting with Lucius in the lower levels of Wayne Enterprises. You had just started printing off a report for Bruce’s next meeting when your printer ran out of paper. Normally this would be a none issue, except for reasons unknown to you, the night cleaner had developed a habit of putting the box of printer paper on top of the bookcase in the corner. A bookcase that stood nearly three heads taller than you. He’d been doing it for weeks despite your many conversations with him about it. You had tried bringing it up to Bruce, but he just blamed it on the language barrier and claimed it as a non-issue since he could just grab it for you.

It was just your luck that the printer would run out when Bruce was in the midst of a meeting and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, probably two seeing as his meetings with Lucius always seemed to go over their allotted time slot. You’d been certain the office would have a step ladder hidden around somewhere, but after nearly twenty minutes of searching and being put on hold with maintenance, you’d given up. You could just wait till Bruce returned, but you had only printed half of the first of ten copies of a 40 page report that was required for his next meeting. You’d begun cursing everyone from the night cleaner for his obsession with moving the paper to the head of marketing and research’s assistants for not sending the reports yesterday when you’d requested them. Difficult problems required creative solutions, however the only thing you had that was light enough to drag over to the bookcase while giving you enough height to grab a ream of paper was your office chair. As the head of the companies employee safety committee you knew this was a terrible idea, as Bruce Wayne’s golden assistant the risk of letting your boss down for the first time ever outweighed the risk to your personal safety.

Even with the chair you needed to climb the bookshelf to actually reach the shelf the paper was on. Ream firmly in your grasp you moved to step back into the chair. As your foot touched the chair your hand slipped from the shelf and you felt yourself go backwards. You closed your eyes and braced for impact but it never came. Instead you felt arms wrap around your back and hip, securing you to a firm chest. You opened your eyes coming face to face with Bruce. Had his eyes always been that blue?

“What the hell were you doing.” He was angry, his blue eyes tightening with worry. A warmth flitted through you at the thought that he cared about your safety.

“Grabbing the printer paper.” You gasped out, bending to grab the ream that had fallen to the ground when you’d lost your grip.

“You could have injured yourself if I hadn’t shown up in time.” Bruce was still in your personal space and it was starting to overwhelm you. ‘Had he always been this… large?’ He seemed to tower over you.

“Yes, well I wouldn’t have needed to do all that if the cleaner would stop placing my printer paper up there.” You’d stepped back from Bruce, needing something to keep you from ogling your boss, you began fiddling with the printer.

“You could have waited for me.” He got in your space again, his voice softer now as he took the paper from your shaking hands.

“Do you understand how ridiculous it is to have to wait for the CEO of the company just to load a ream of paper into my printer?” You huffed out, turning back towards him now. The two stood there, chest to chest just staring at each other. You didn’t want to be the one to back down first, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep from blushing while staring into to his eyes.

‘What was with you today? You’d never had a problem going toe to toe with Bruce before. Now suddenly your acting like a horny school girl, daydreaming about climbing this man like-

“Fine.” Bruce stalked off to his office, an indiscernible glower on his face, leaving you to ponder what the hell had just happened. And why you seemingly out of nowhere had very inappropriate thoughts about your boss.

That night marked the first of many failed blind dates, agreed to only after having decided that it was your lack of a love life that had you daydreaming about your boss.

The next morning the box of paper was on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

‘I’ve been watching but the stars refuse to shine

I’ve been searching but I just don’t see the signs

I know that it’s out there

There’s gotta be something for my soul somewhere’

Things between you and Bruce changed after that day. You’d never realized how comfortable you two had become with one another until you suddenly weren’t. You’d taken to communicating with him almost exclusively through emails and his calendar due to how awkward everything had become. He’d try to ask you about your life and you’d just clam up, not wanting to tell the object of your recurring lusty dreams about your string of failed dates. Failed because after less than two minutes you’d start comparing all of them to Bruce. The whole thing was getting so out of hand, you’d started seriously contemplating putting in for a transfer.

You’d been so lost in thought it took Bruce loudly clearing his throat for you to notice him standing in front of your desk.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” You’d resolved that complete professionalism was the only sure way to put everything back to normal. Or at least it will hopefully allow you to cling to some semblance of normal until you stop chickening out and put in for reassignment.

“I was wondering,” he seemed nervous, fidgeting with the snow globe I kept on the edge of my desk. “Do you have a date to the Christmas Gala?” Oh. He’s not? Is he? He couldn’t possibly-“I was just thinking if you didn’t have one, we could go together.” He was- “just as friends. We are friends aren’t we?” n’t.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne I suppose I’ve come to regard you as a” the word friend seemed to catch in your throat “friend over these last few months. But, to be quite honest with you, I wasn’t planning on attending the Christmas Gala.”

“You have too. In fact, I’m making it a mandatory requirement of your job that you have to be there. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.” He didn’t even give you time to respond before waltzing back into his office. It took all of 30 seconds for you to follow after him.

“You cannot force me to go to the gala Mr.Wayne.” You’d stopped in front of his desk, arms crossed over your chest.

“Why not?” He leaned back in his chair, smug smile glued to his face.

“Because I’m a human being with free will and, according to the Wayne Enterprises Employee Handbook, attempting to force me to attend would constitute harassment.” The smile slowly dropped from his face as he rose from his chair.

“If you truly don’t want to attend, I won’t push the matter.” He took slow, deliberate steps towards you, halting just far enough to be considered proper, but still close enough for you to catch the scent of his cologne. “However, it’d mean a lot to me if you did attend.” You’d been so distracted by his eyes and the seemingly sincere look on his face that you hadn’t even noticed he’d reached for your hand. You stood there utterly unmoored by the events of the past few minutes. You mentally shook your self out and opened your mouth to once again decline his invitation.

“Okay.” You were stunned with utter disbelief at the disconnect between your brain and your mouth. Bruce smirked.

“Perfect, like I said early I’ll pick you up around 7pm. If we’re going together, I really should match my tie to your dress. What colour is it going to be?” He’d started heading back to his desk.

“Mint.” You mumbled out. If you were going to be photographed on Bruce Waynes arm, even as just a friend, there was only one dress in your wardrobe that was even close to passable. Turns out you would get a second wear out of the bridesmaids dress from your sister’s wedding.

‘I’ve been looking for someone to shed some light

Not somebody just to get me through the night

I could use some direction

And I’m open to your suggestions’

The Christmas Gala was a disaster. The gala itself was wonderful, decorated to the nines, wonderful little hors d’oeuvres being passed around on trays that looked suspiciously like real silver. You however were a disaster. After entering the gala on Bruces arm, to the flash of what seemed like a million cameras, you’d been immediately pulled away to solve a crisis for the marketing assistants. The crisis turned out to be nothing more than a minor tear in her dress. One strategically placed safety pin later and you found yourself in the midst of the gala uncertain where Bruce had wandered off too.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing standing alone?” Oliver Queen. You’d had several run ins with him whilst working for Bruce.

“Oliver, not that it’s any of your business but I’m looking for Bruce.” You didn’t even bother glancing at him, lest you encourage his flirtations. “You haven’t seen him recently, have you?”

“Does Brucie really have you working on Christmas? He truly has no shame. If you were working for me-“ You cut him off before he could descend into what was sure to be a thinly veiled innuendo.

“We’ve talked about this Oliver. I’m not interested in you, professionally or personally.” You levelled your iciest look at him.

“Sheesh, can’t even give a guy a shot in the spirit of Christmas?” You harden your glare. “Fine, fine. I can take a hint sometimes.” He raised his hands in surrender before placing them on your shoulders turning you in a full 180. “Your beloved Brucie is right there, and it seems he’s decided to use the spirit of the season to rekindle an old flame.” You were met with the sight of Bruce and Selina Kyle in an arch way locked in a kiss.

“Oh.” Logically you knew you had no right to be upset. Bruce had made it abundantly clear the two of you were just friends. But if that were true, why did this feel so much worse than any breakup you’d gone through in your near 25 years of life. “Excuse me, I need to- I should check- I…” You left Oliver standing there as you rushed from the ballroom.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can’t make it through without a way back into love

And if I open my heart again

I guess I’m hoping you’ll be there for me in the end’

You wrote your two week notice on the train ride back to your apartment. You were sure you looked quite the sight, shivering in your evening dress, makeup running down your face from the tears you couldn’t hold back. It took an hour longer than normal to reach your corner of Gotham, it gave you time to compartmentalize. Due to the Holidays you’d only have to work out one week of your two weeks notice, but that was still one week of having to see the man who had unintentionally shattered your heart. The worst part is you couldn’t even be mad at him. He’d done nothing to lead you on or imply that you were anything more than friends. You’d simply allowed your imagination to get the better of you and now here you were crying because you’d broken your own heart. You were so lost in your own heartbreak you failed to notice the man standing outside your apartment building until you literally walked into him.

“I’m so sor-“ you began to tumble out an apology as you lifted your eyes to the face of the torso you’d just slammed into, only to be met with achingly familiar blue eyes. “Bruce?”

“You left.” He looked upset, almost as if he were the one heartbroken. “You didn’t even say goo- Have you been crying?” His hand lifts to your face, thumb trailing under your eye. You have to repress a shudder at the feeling of his warm hand on your cold cheek. “Was it Queen? Did he say something again? I’ll have him bared from the building.” You step out of Bruce’s embrace.

“No, it wasn’t Oliver Mr.Wayne.” Professionalism, detachment, that was the only way you were going to get through this final encounter with the man you’d come to love. “It was a personal matter and it’s been handled. But since you’re here I might as well do this face to face. I’m resigning from my position as your personal assistant effective immediately. I’ve already emailed HR and-“

“No.”

“No? This isn’t a yes or no, situation Mr. Wayne. I’m not asking your permission, I’m telling you. I quit.” You’re astonished at the level of strength in your own voice.

“No, you don’t. And while we’re at it you’ll stop with this Mr.Wayne nonsense and go back to calling me Bruce.” He’s agitated now, angry at you.

“Mr. Wayne once again it’s not up to you. I’ve already sent my notice to HR, and accepted a new position elsewhere.” A small lie, but a seemingly necessary one seeing how hard of a time Bruce seems to be having with grasping the concept of your departure from his life.

“Then I’ll buy this new company you work for.” He’s invaded your personal bubble once more.

“Mr. Wayne you can’t just buy a corporation to stop me from quitting.”

“Bruce, and yes I can. I’m a billionaire if you’ve forgotten.” You’re nearly chest to chest at this point. “If this personal matter is the reason you’re quitting, then let me help. I’m sure with your brains and my money we can figure out a solut-“

“I’m in love with you, you idiot.” You push at his chest, anger fuelling your every movement now. “I’m in love with you and I didn’t relish the thought of having to sit in that office day after day watching you moon over Seli-“ He’s kissing you. Bruce Wayne is kissing you. Your to stunned to do anything other than let him.

‘There are moments when I don’t know if it’s real

Or if anybody feels the way I feel

I need inspiration

Not just another negotiation’

When he’d finally pulled away, self satisfied look on his face, you began to berate him. It was his turn to be stunned into silence while you cursed him out in the middle of the street (unbeknownst to either of you, one of the teens from your apartment block filmed the whole thing. It went viral by morning and Wayne Enterprises PR team had to work overtime to spin it in the companies favour). It would take the better part of a week for him to convince you that what’d you seen was Selina’s last ditch attempt at winning him back. It’d taken him another two months of failed wooing attempts to finally get you to agree to be his girlfriend.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can't make it through without a way back into love

And if I open my heart to you

I'm hoping you'll show me what to do

And if you help me to start again

You know that I'll be there for you in the end’

The song fades out and your left standing in the middle of your kitchen lost in thought when a gentle chuckle penetrates your subconscious. You whirl around to find Bruce leaned against the entryway, smile lighting up his face.

“How long have you been standing there?” You could feel a blush beginning to bloom across your cheeks.

“Does it matter?” He advances on you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Yes, I need to gauge how embarrassed I should be.” You sink into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He bends down and plants a gentle kiss on your lips.

“What were you thinking so intently about?” He gently sweeps an errant strand of hair behind your ear. It was your turn to plant a distracting kiss on Bruce’s lips, the last thing you needed was to inflate his ego. “Ah, so you were thinking about me.” He smirks when you break for air.

“I was not.” Your blush deepens, as if thinking about your husband was the most scandalous thing in the world.

“Mom’s always thinking about you. It’s kinda gross actually.” Jason sat atop your counter eating a cinnamon bun. “What do you even see in the old man anyway? You’re young, attractive and funny. You could do a lot better than Bruce.”

“Off my counter.” You pulled out of Bruce’s embrace to admonish your son. “And put that down, those are for brunch.” You swat his hand away from the fruit tray. He hops off the counter planting a kiss to your check, as he grabs the fruit tray and starts carrying it to the table in the adjacent dinning room.

“It is brunch though mother.” You startle a bit at the sound of Damians voice coming from beside you, nearly 15 years in and you still got startled by the way they all seemed to move in utter silence popping up from seemingly nowhere. At 5’4” your youngest was nearly eye to eye with you, a few more years and he’d tower over you like his brothers.

“Did you all collectively wake up and decided today was the day to disregard all of mom’s rules?” You move to turn off the speaker, mourning your few hours of peace and beginning to mentally prep for the chaos of having all 7 of the Wayne children in one dinning room. “Tim you better be putting that coffee into a cup.” You had a sixth sense for Tim’s caffeine habit and, unbeknownst to him, had been taking steps to curb it. Your most recent ingenious plan was slowly mixing decaf into the regular coffee. Your current batch of grounds was 60% decaf and only 40% caffeinated.

“Of course mom. I wouldn’t dream of breaking your rules.”

“Bullshit.” You whisper under your breath. “Aren’t you all currently breaking rule number 3?” The boys had the decency to at least feigen sheepishness.

“But it is brunch.” Duke, Stephanie and Cas shuffle into the kitchen together.

“Technically the wording of the rule does state that we’re not supposed to enter the kitchen until after brunch, which is why I entered the dining room through the hallway.” Richard leaned his head through the entryway between the two rooms.

“We get it, your mom’s favourite little suck up.” Jason slaps the back of Richards head on his way back into the kitchen. He loads his arms with various platters from the counter before turning back to his siblings. “Well come on half-wits, if you’re gonna break mom’s rules might as well make ourselves useful.”

“Jason, don’t hit your brother.” Your admonishment is half hearted at best, knowing full well your second eldest was likely to simply pretend to listen, while waiting till you turned your back to strike his older brother once again. “And Richard don’t even think about retaliating while he’s holding those platters.” You lean against the back counter running a hand through your hair, releasing it from its haphazard bun. You watch the other kids with the eyes of a well seasoned mother, fear for your antique dish-ware seizing you. You really should just invest in plastic dish-ware at this point, or perhaps you can commission Lucius to develop a line of indestructible dish-ware. There has to be a market for that, right?

Bruce comes to stand beside you, placing a mug of tea in your hands. You lean your head against his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your lips.

“No regrets?” He asks, as the sound of a squabble erupt from the dinning room.

“Not a one.” You smile. No, you wouldn’t trade this for anything. CRASH Okay, maybe you’d trade out whichever child just broke- CRASH - TWO plates. “Boys what did I just say about fighting with my antiques in your hands!”

[nylqnder]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: in the wake of your painful break-up with jack, you find comfort and blossoming feelings with luke.

warning: part two to this fic, bsf ! luke hughes x reader, jack hughes x reader, angst, jack once again being a terrible (ex)boyfriend, little tiny bit of swearing

word count: 2.93k

In the days that followed your birthday, your head felt like it was in a blender. The entire day had left you confused, hurt, and angry. The sting of Jack's absence was a constant ache, and the silence that followed was deafening. You hadn't heard from him at all — not even a ‘sorry for bailing on your birthday’ text. The uncertainty about your relationship status gnawed at you, making you question everything.

Luke had been a steady presence during this time, though he couldn’t provide any more information about Jack’s whereabouts or reasons. He had barely spoken to his brother since their blowup at the arena. Their encounters were limited to brief, awkward glimpses at the rink, where Luke made a point to avoid prolonged interaction. In the meantime, Luke had been staying over at your apartment and occasionally at Jesper's. You hated how you had come between two brothers, creating a rift between two people who had once been so close.

The days dragged on, each one marked by the same painful silence from Jack. You tried to go about your daily routine, but the weight of your unresolved feelings made it difficult to focus. Work was a welcome distraction, though your colleagues noticed the change in your demeanor.

One evening, when you were sitting on your couch, a knock at your door drew your focus off the baseball game playing on your TV. When you opened the door, you were met with a remorseful-looking Jack.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You hesitated momentarily, wondering if it was a good decision, but ultimately stepped aside and let Jack in. Jack had spent the last couple of days in a haze, his argument with Luke replaying in his head. His words had been harsh but true, piercing through the fog of Jack's self-deception and forcing him to confront the reality of his actions.

As he sat across from you at your kitchen table, the silence between you two was almost unbearable. Jack's eyes wandered, unable to meet yours, focusing instead on the bracelets on his wrists.

He took a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours. “I’m so sorry… for everything, y/n,” he said. “I know I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and I let you down, not just on your birthday but so many times before that.”

You felt your emotions rising in your chest, tears brimming in your eyes as you remembered your birthday. You remembered waiting throughout the night as everyone who wasn’t your boyfriend arrived to celebrate your birthday. The memory of the pitying glances you’d received as the hours passed by only amplified your heartbreak.

Jack reached out, taking your hand that was resting on the table in his. His touch was tentative as if he feared you might pull away. “I’ve been a fucking idiot,” he continued. “I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t important to me, and I know I’ve messed up more times than I can count, but… I don’t want to lose you. I need a second chance.”

You considered his words but couldn’t help but feel that they rang empty. You took a shaky breath, pulling your hand away gently. “Jack, it’s not a second chance at this point… it’s a fourth or a fifth,” you said. “The amount of times you’ve left me sitting in front of my mirror, my makeup completely done and so excited to go on a date with my boyfriend, only to have you text me that you can’t make it? I can’t keep doing that.”

Jack’s face fell, the true extent of his non-committal behavior sinking in. He looked down at the table, unable to meet your gaze. “I know, y/n… I’ve been awful, and I’ve let you down so many times. I can’t even begin to make up for all the times I wasn’t there for you.”

You wiped a tear from your cheek, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s not just about the dates, Jack. It’s about feeling like I’m the last thing on your mind, like an afterthought.”

Jack’s eyes snapped back to yours, soft and desperate. “You’re not an afterthought, y/n.”

“Jack…” you shook your head. “If I was everything to you, you wouldn’t have missed my birthday. You wouldn’t have let me down time and time again. I can’t keep being disappointed. I can’t keep letting myself get pushed around like this. I feel like I’m a little girl again, crushing on the older brother of my best friend, wondering if he’ll ever give me the time of day or even spare me a glance.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped as the weight of your words hit him, each sentence like a physical blow. He knew you were right. He knew he had no defense. No valid excuse. He could see the pain in your eyes, shown with every tear that came down from your sullen eyes.

Jack recognized he was at the point of no return. You weren’t going to let him keep acting like this, at least not with you. A silence fell between the two of you as you read Jack’s anguished eyes, realizing he’d backed down.

“You should go, Jack,” you said softly, the finality of the words hanging in the air.

Jack nodded, standing up. He hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but knew there was nothing left to say, nothing that could change the damage that had been done. He simply walked to your side, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, before leaving you sitting at your kitchen table, alone.

The door closed behind him with a soft click. You sat there a moment, the still silence of the apartment pressing on you. The reality of the situation finally hit you, and you felt a sob rise in your throat. You buried your head in your hands, the tears coming hard and fast, falling to the wood below you.

It was a mix of sadness and relief that washed over you. The sadness of losing someone you once loved deeply, and the relief of finally choosing yourself.

In the aftermath of your breakup with Jack, life felt like a whirlwind of emotions. Everything from pain to sadness to solace passed by you. Luke, true to his nature, was by your side through it all. The pain of Jack's absence was tempered by Luke's unwavering support. Slowly, you began to see him in a new light.

At first, it was the little things. Luke always knew how to make you laugh; his lighthearted jokes became a soothing balm for your broken heart. You began to notice how he always seemed to be there for you, how he never seemed too busy or distracted to listen. One evening, after you’d complained about your day at work, he came over with takeout and offered to watch the new season of Bridgerton, despite having complained about it previously. As you ate and laughed together, a warmth in your chest began to develop.

The next few weeks brought more of Luke's comforting presence. He came over to fix your leaky faucet that your super had neglected to fix despite your incessant asking. Each hangout also functioned as his way to check in on you, ensuring you were doing okay since the break-up. One night, he brought you a bouquet of flowers, just because he thought you’d like them.

The repeated small gestures spoke volumes to you, changing the way you saw Luke. You realized that he’d always been there, quietly supporting you, understanding you in ways that Jack never did. That realization hit you during one of your late-night conversations, as Luke listened intently while you told a story from your day.

The days passed and the relationship you once had as children came back in full force. You started looking forward to the moments you got to spend with Luke. You began to crave his company, seeking him out even for the simplest things like grabbing coffee or taking a walk in the park, even offering to work out with him despite having to go through his intense hockey regimes.

It all came to a head one evening as you sat on your balcony, watching the sun set upon the city. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, the cool breeze blowing over your skin. You turned to look at him, the setting sun casting a golden glow on his face. It was in that moment that you realized just how much he meant to you.

The more time you spent with Luke, the stronger your feelings grew.

However, with your blossoming feelings came an overwhelming sense of fear and guilt. Fear, because acknowledging these emotions might disrupt the delicate balance of your lives, and disrupt the friendship you'd both held dear for years. Guilt, because crushing on your ex-boyfriend's little brother, even if you knew him first, felt like a cardinal sin, and the idea of causing a rift between them was almost unbearable.

You found yourself in a near-constant state of inner turmoil. The joy of being with Luke was tempered by the anxiety of the potential fallout. What if Luke didn't feel the same way? What if he did? The questions spiraled in your mind, each one bringing a new wave of dread. You were scared of complicating things, of making a mess of something so precious. Your friendship with Luke was one of the most important things in your life, and the thought of losing it because of your feelings was terrifying.

As these emotions churned within you, you started to withdraw slightly, afraid that any small gesture might betray your true feelings. You became hyper-aware of every interaction, second-guessing yourself constantly. Did that touch linger too long? Was that compliment too heartfelt? You began to isolate yourself, creating a distance in an attempt to protect what you had, but this only made the feelings more confusing.

Meanwhile, Luke noticed the shift in your behavior. He brushed it off, as he knew how stressed you were due to work, but when it remained for weeks at a time, he couldn’t ignore the growing distance. He noticed the way you hesitated around him, whether it was when you were going in for a hug or when you laughed, and it was missing the usual genuine ring to it. It was as if a barrier had formed between you, sending profound unease through him.

He started to question himself, wondering if he'd done something to cause your withdrawal. Was he too forward in his gestures of friendship? Did he unknowingly overstep boundaries in his efforts to make you feel comfortable around him again? As he reflected on your interactions and the days spent together, doubts crept into his mind. Maybe he misread your signals, mistaking your friendliness for something more. The fear of having made you uncomfortable ate away at him, casting a shadow over his every interaction with you.

Luke finally decided he couldn't ignore the growing tension any longer. He knew he needed to confront you, not only to ease his own concerns but also because he cared deeply about your well-being. You’d been dodging his calls, coming up with excuses to avoid one-on-one hangouts with him. It pained you to do that, especially after experiencing that with Jack, but you didn’t know if you could be in the same room as Luke without the fear of ruining things coming back.

Since you’d been almost completely ignoring him, Luke knew his only option was to go straight to your place and confront you directly. After a game, he left nearly as soon as media was done, speeding to your place, where he knew you’d be. Because, even though you were ignoring him, he knew you would’ve watched the whole game, your eyes glued to Luke whenever he graced the ice.

The knock at your door at eleven at night sent a worry through your core, but when you saw the curly-headed boy on the other side, the worry subsided before morphing into a different type of fear.

“Can I come in?” Luke asked when you opened the door. He was right about knowing you had watched the game, glancing at the ESPN post-game highlights playing on your TV.

You nodded silently, letting Luke inside. He didn’t sit down, instead standing in the middle of the room, fiddling with the bracelets on his wrists. The sight was all too familiar to when Jack came over a couple of months before. The reminder that you were crushing on your ex's younger brother pounded in your mind, discomfort washing over you.

He noticed the tension in your posture, the way your gaze flickered nervously whenever he tried to meet it. “I… I can’t shake the feeling that something's off between us recently,” Luke said. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart clenched at the concern in his voice. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, putting up a mask of sincerity.

Luke could tell instantly that your vague answer was a lie. The way your arms wrapped tightly around your torso, one that donned his hoodie. “Y/n, if you think I’m believing that, you’re out of your goddamn mind,” Luke said.

You swallowed hard as you looked into his eyes, so full of warmth and genuine care, you found yourself unable to keep up the facade. You let out a sigh, shoulders slumping as you finally admitted, "No, everything's fucked."

His brows furrowed in concern, and he took a small step closer, a silent invitation for you to continue. "Luke, I… I don't know how to say this," you started, your voice trembling slightly. "But being around you lately… it's been… difficult."

Luke’s stomach churned as his fears suddenly came to fruition. He was right; he overstepped and misread your actions. You watched as Luke's expression softened even more, his eyes reflecting a mixture of confusion and concern. "Difficult?" he asked gently.

You took another deep breath, your hands trembling slightly. "I’ve been avoiding you because… I realized… I have feelings for you, Luke. And it scared me. Not just because of Jack and everything with him, but because you’ve been my friend for so long. I didn’t want to mess things up between us."

Luke's posture softened, his concern melting. "Y/n…"

You pressed on, unable to stop the flood of words. "I’m so sorry if this makes things awkward or if it complicates your relationship with Jack. I didn’t want to burden you with my feelings, so I tried to keep them locked away but being around you… God, it got so hard and I couldn’t keep pretending they weren’t there. I’m sorry for everything, I’ve screwed everything up."

You didn’t know when the tears started, but you felt them slide down your cheeks, dripping onto Luke’s hoodie you wore. When you finally finished, you looked at Luke, your heart in your throat. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you done freaking out now?”

You blinked, taken aback by his calm response. “What?” you croaked out.

Luke smiled, a genuine warmth that reached his eyes. “Y/n, I like you too. Fuck… I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, hope mingling with disbelief. “You do?”

As kids, your parents would always tease about the two of you maybe liking each other, which you’d always deny. Quinn would always poke fun at Luke, saying he was in love with you, but you always brushed it off. Cause you were just friends.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. I've been… scared, too. Scared of losing what we have, of messing things up. But… I can't ignore how I feel, either.”

Relief and joy flooded through you, mingling with the lingering fear. “So… what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Luke took a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you, taking your hands in his. “Now, we take things one step at a time. And we’ll talk to Jack when the time is right. We figure this out together.” Luke told you. You felt your heart beat steady, Luke’s calming presence taking over. “But for now, can I kiss you?”

Your heart soared, and you nodded, a smile breaking through your tears. “Please.”

Luke's hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that lingered. He leaned in slowly as you closed your eyes, anticipation fluttering in your stomach. The moment his lips touched yours, a spark ignited between you, sending a rush of warmth through your body.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Me too,” you admitted, feeling a weight lift off your chest.

Luke pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. The two of you stood there for a moment, just holding each other and savoring the moment. Eventually, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "What about Jack? How do we tell him?"

Luke sighed. “We’ll be honest with him. I’m sure he’ll be happy for us... Actually maybe not." Luke said, remembering his brother's words during their spat a couple months back. "But whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.”

You nodded, Luke’s words allowing your nerves to calm a little. "Okay. Together."

[txtmetonight]

The Little Things ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ The little things he does/has in your relationship...

pairing *. * Enhypen Ot7 x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Fluff

warnings *. Crude Language

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet

hold music*. * Hatatchi no koi—lamp

a/n ⋆ ★ just something cute and short!!

Lee Heeseung ㅤ─────ㅤ

★ Walks on the side of the sidewalk, near the road, while interlocking pinkies as he swings your arm back and forth to a little melody that he hums.

★ Always makes another serving of ramen for you out of habit...whether you're there or not.

★ Has a small, cute server on Minecraft where you two have built your dream house completed with little trinkets that you both actually have in real life...it makes his dreams of marrying you seem more real.

Park Jongsung ㅤ─────ㅤ

★ Always save the last thing for you. The last pizza slice to the last scoop of ice cream.

★ Won't go out to eat if you're not by his side (excluding if he's on tour) because he claims that the food never tastes good if you're not there, locking your legs together from across each other while you two eat.

★ Rubs your head roughly, messing up your hair because cuteness aggression gets to him.

Sim Jaeyun ㅤ─────ㅤ

★ Barks at you (for fun...) when you're putting on little mini fashion shows for him in the comfort of your room. Laughs harder when you look at him in disgust.

★ Takes the first bite of your food when you two go out because he wants to make sure that no one has poisoned it (excuses, he just wants your food).

★ Tries to give you puppy eyes but it fails miserably before his face just goes all red and he looks constipated. He still does it anyway to see you smile.

Park Sunghoon ㅤ─────ㅤ

★ Takes you on ice skating dates frequently where half of the time he's just bursting out into laughter because you fall flat on your face. He then treats you to some hot fries and a shared milkshake as he stares at you dreamily.

★ Takes all of the blankets while you two are sleeping and practically wrestles you when you try to take it back, but then will start whining when you get up to grab another one for yourself.

★ Pretends to eat all of your snacks but always has a hidden one in his pocket to surprise you.

Kim Sunoo ㅤ─────

★ Makes you personalized sheet masks that fit your needs. You always will find him in the kitchen blending up random stuff–practically making a concoction in the blender.

★ Sings you Disney songs because he thinks that you were a princess in your past life and that you should be reminded of your roots.

★ Never laughs or even bats an eye when your body makes a weird ass noise or if it growls. Coincidentally...his stomach also reciprocates (he just tells you that since you're both soulmates, whatever you feel, he also feels).

Yang Jungwon ㅤ─────

★ Always lets you have the first whiff or pump of a perfume or a new handwash.

★ Buys the same tub of ice cream because it reminds him of your first date with him and will spend at least one day a week, eating that ice cream as he scrolls through pictures of you and him.

★ He's so close with your family that he remembers all of their birthdays, their important dates in general, and even your mother's usual grocery list.

Nishimura Riki ㅤ─────

★ Has a secret scrapbook of you and him that he plans to show you when you're both fifty with knobbly knees and arthritis.

★ Keeps a spare rubber band with him on his wrist. It looks bare if he doesn't have it on and his friends can always tell if he got into a fight with you if he doesn't sport one on.

★ You don't know this yet...but whatever chapstick you both put on that day (he will make sure) will always be flavors that go well together. Like strawberry and peach.

[averokagejd]

[UPDATE: I THINK I WAS WRONG https://www.tumblr.com/averokagejd/764627239952384000/ok-so-after-that-i-had-a-realization-i-think-i-may]

i'm gonna say it, i don't think jack's father was planned at all

honestly i don't know if they were even going to adress it until everybody was like 'who is he???'

the traveler does not work as his father i am sorry

jack barely shows any connection to the traveler in the 2023 OR 2024 story modes

like i suppose he has gold in his design??? so does eddie from 24k magic and i dont think hes the travellers son

jd team couldve easily made a map with some other red haired coach in a suit and just said 'yeah hes not really important to the story but he was with leda at some point'

or just not even go down that route of the story, like i really dont think it had to be a big thing

we don't know who the other characters parents are besides wanderlust

so i think they just saw other known parent close to the main lore and said 'you know what sure i guess'

i guess he doesnt have to fully look like the son of both of them, but this is in the same plot with wanderlust who looks like if siha and traveler got put in a blender

this isnt even a 'i wanna still ship jacklust so im coping' thing its just a 'how does this make sense' thing

look at this and tell me it makes sense visually

like where did the red hair come from

[silcobrainrot]

Get to know your mutuals!

Thank you for the tag @teawithghosts! I love a good tag game

What's the origin of your blog title?

It's on the tin my dude 😂🥵

OTP(s)+ shipnames(s):

This is my Arcane blog, so my Arcane OTP is Story x Character-Driven Plot. I liked Zaundads before it became wholesome. Sometimes when I put Jinx and Silco in a blender it comes out Jilco, so read the tags. Shipping really isn't that important to me tho. No one's ready for my ace headcanons.

Favourite color:

Purple. The hue my hair is (ask for pics).

Song stuck in your head:

Okay I discovered and then forgot Murder Drones existed, recently remembered so I have finally seen episode 8 and now the final boss song has been stuck in my head for like a week

Weirdest habit/trait:

3+ way conversations with myself. Sometimes I weaponize this for fic writing.

Hobbies:

GOOD FUCKING QUESTION Writing, bookbinding, film photography, starting collections and never finishing them because I start collecting something else

If you work, what's your profession?

Day job I'm customer support for a tech company. Theoretically I'm a freelance filmmaker on the side but I'm in between projects right now.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

I went to school for filmmaking and if it were up to me I'd be a full time video colorist by now, but school doesn't teach you the boring bits so we're still working on it.

Something you're good at:

Yeah I'll say it I'm a good writer. I know I'm a good writer. Mind the tags. I'm also good at my pictures. You have to be at least okay at film photography to get an image at all and I get those consistently.

Something you hate:

Borrowing one from prev, "proship DNI" culture. Grow up lol.

When something juuuuust barely doesn't fit. Applies to any and all circumstances.

That fanart is perfectly acceptable to monetize but fanfiction isn't. Not talking about copyright law, just in terms of fandom etiquette. There are people that make a consistent income out of fanart and fanmerch and commissions of copyrighted characters, but tell someone you took ONE writing commission or dare to have a Ko-Fi linked somewhere and they'll call the copyright holders themselves to make an example out of you. I know why it's more complicated legally, culturally people just don't think writing is as valuable of a skill.

Something you collect:

Anytime I take my film camera on an adventure I try finding a souvenir pin nearby. I'm making a map of where I've been on my camera bag.

Something you forget:

Oh lots of things, but I can't fucking remember any specifics 🤣

What's your love language:

Touch. I used to have a lot of platonic intimacy with my friends in middle and high school and it ruined adult life for me. I think the only fate worse than "touch starved and has never known touch" is "touch starved and used to have it all the time and now has none."

Favourite movie/show:

Movie [at the time of this question being asked]: I'm on a Cloverfield kick again

TV [at the time of this question being asked]: Arcane season 1

Favourite food:

Rice in any form. Humans really popped off with rice, potatoes, and bread.

Favourite animal:

Bats 🦇🥰 hoary bats are my favorite local species

What were you like as a child:

Talkative and extremely depressed. I knew when people were only pretending to listen.

Favourite subject at school:

English I guess. My favorite teachers were always English teachers. My school system was very essay-focused and by 8th grade they were letting us choose our own topics for the most part, so I learned that I actually enjoyed breaking stories down to their parts and seeing what makes them tick.

Least favourite subject:

Math. I learned I have discalculia a few years after graduating college.

What's your best character trait?

The BPD

What's your worst character trait?

Need to be right. Not in a "everyone else is the problem and I don't need to learn about anything" way but in a "if I'm wrong about this I deserve death and will never redeem myself" type way

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

"My mom is surviving cancer" -> "my mom will never have cancer"

-----

WOOF this got serious didn't it? Can't help it. Anyway no-pressure tags [apologies if you've been tagged before it's hard to keep track of the ones that aren't reblog chains]: @elizaviento @southsidestory @godlygivenanxiety @wildlybewitched @sorceressofthesky @constantfragmentation @mandofury

[thehypnone]

a lil something I got threatened to be thrown into a blender for

before his elemental transition---his near death experience---dewdrop never felt important

it was one of his dreams for his life to mean something. to make a difference

to be remembered

he'd cry himself to sleep thinking about how he'll be just...gone one day. nothing left of him

he wished so bad he could do something to be remembered, but he knew he's not special enough. even though he's one of the not-many ghouls topside, there's still billions of people just like him, and there's even more people that are better than him in this or that

he had nothing to make a difference with

no power, really

his pack always comforted him about this, told him every time that he will never be truly gone. not only because of them, their memory, and what they'll pass on, but also because of their fans. even though these thousands of people don't know anything about the real dewdrop

when dew undergoes the elemental transition it all changes. he wakes up from a shirt coma a week after the ritual and everyone---including dew himself---thinks it's the surge

"remember me" he begs mountain and aether. he can barely speaks but that's all he keeps babbling and it breaks the others' heart like nothing before

they promise, over and over again, that they will. that they'll always remember him

it turns out not to have been the surge. dew recovers and it's different now

"in my head I was on my own" he tells rain one day, months later "I was too far gone, i couldn't see that I cut them so deep. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't see"

"couldn't see what?"

"that I've already left a mark. someone loves me, and that means more than anything else I could've possibly achieved"

[mooneyedandglowing]

XXVVXXVVXX

“Well, you’re going about it in a roundabout way,” my mother says. And I say, “It’s the only way I know.” So just let me get to it. Just let me get to the part of the story where I save the day or at least where I don’t fuck it up. Typically, you can unscrew a blender without the liquids going all over the place, all over you.

I notice too much. I notice everything — see everything, hear everything layered over everything else like a badly mixed track. It’s all too loud, too bright, too clear. The exploded lighter on the pavement — orange and corroded — its mechanical gore. The cicadas in their death throes, their last songs sung high in the treeline. The straw I keep bringing into the house from under my feet. The black cat with its infected leg wound hissing and crying like something that wants to be loved but doesn’t know how to sit still long enough. I don’t know how to sit still long enough.

I want somewhere to put it all outside of me. Was it Siken who said, “He didn’t know what to do with his hands”? I don’t know what to do with my hands. I don’t know where my thoughts can lie. I don’t know if I can touch you, anything. Will it hurt you if I do? Will you recoil like I’m a hot iron striking gadolinium. I can hardly exist in this world. I can hardly be existed with. My resistance, my lack of need, that lack. No one can understand it.

At times I wish I was more delusional, more balloon-filled with helium. In that world, I would be the hero of everything that’s happened to me. In that world, I’d be loved by everything that’s ever hurt me. In that world, I wouldn’t have dared every hand that raised to land on its mark — my face. In that world, I wouldn’t flinch and pull back when a soft hand comes in to ghost across my jaw.

In that world. In that world. In this one, I can barely convince myself. In this one, I see life after life dismantling itself in the light of magical thinking, everyone taking it too far, wanting to name and own and dominate what is outside of the self, dressing punishment in romantic tones of pink and red. In this life, every piece of violence is soaked in thick stinking blood, cascades in a harsh light, signals the rage of man, of woman. I’m bruised from within; so practiced in rejection that now I invent it. There’s no world where I’m not repulsive to you. To cut my own limbs off becomes an exercise of pride.

He plucked an eyelash from my cheek. At first, I flinched. At first, my whole head reeled back like I could vanish if I was only fast enough. But he wasn’t discouraged, though his eyes went wide. And then I let him, holding my whole body so, so, so still. He held it up to me, like a dandelion seed, told me to make a wish and I don’t know if I did. I don’t even know if I closed my eyes. I have to write it down. I have to write it all down to make myself accountable to myself. There’s too much taking up too much room. I blink and forget the important parts. I blink and the past slips out the door unnoticed, unrealized. I don’t say goodbye.

I’m probably not being honest. She’d tell you that I never was, didn’t know how to be. Maybe that’s not entirely true either. Maybe it all is. What I know is that we can’t help but to betray ourselves, not even ourselves, ourselves who are fluent in the performance, you more than I. And I wanting to ask you if you’re exhausted by it all, that big show you put on and still feeling selfish because the act will never suit every audience and you want to, you want to. And I want to ask how much that silence follows you into your own quiet, when the crowd refuses to applaud, when you’re practically begging them.

But it’s none of my business. Nothing is ever my business. So I talk myself out of talking. Don’t want to crush a toe, an ego. Don’t want to gaze at my navel, which is less beautiful now, more like everyone else’s, common and mostly hidden. It used to tell the story of how I came into this world, my red face and my mother’s womb and my hands gripped tight as I tore it out of her, as I was taking my home with me. And there’s no world where I am not repulsive.

In the theatre, my legs thrown over all his beautiful. The movie about art and his hand, his hand, between my legs, dragging my soul out of me. The man in the theatre says, “I can see why they all want you for themselves.” And I’m reduced to conquest, the cliché and his mistake. The man doesn’t realize I’m the invasion. The man is between my legs and I’m annihilating him. He will give himself over. He does. I touch nothing that doesn’t want me to.

The dogs bark, cars go by. I touch nothing. Nothing wants me to.

I believe hope is a pair of handcuffs. I put them on myself anyway, in the dark, where no one can see. I chain myself up like this. I tell no one.

In the hallway, a man tests love out on me, but he can’t stand to be looked at. He thinks I think he’s repulsive. And I don’t know what to do with my eyes. I take them out and hand them to him and he drops them into his coat pockets. We refuse to ever put another word to our throats.

Not every closeness is romantic. My mind leeches around looking for something to feed on. Not every touch turns itself toward fuck. But you don’t understand how important it is. My mind’s eye is all I have left to see with. I’m breathing down the neck of theories, desperate.

I’d never say it out loud.

Like when beautiful men started to want me, I weaponized my body against them. And still didn’t believe I was beautiful too.

I’d never say it out loud.

And then the cerebral hunted me down, showed me that fun house mirror where I looked repulsive. There’s no world in which you could possess me. There is no world in which you’d want to. There’s no world in which what you could do to me hasn’t already been done.

The most honest thing I know is that I never know. I want to live inside the subtext. I want the tension of never finding out until it’s too late, and the tension of it being too late. No one is comfortable here but me. The ambiguity, the nuance, resisting the self and others, resisting the body and others. I don't want you to be sure. I don't want to know.

A man wraps my hair around his fist like it’s the cloth wrap underneath his boxing glove. My head is pulled so far back I think I might swallow the ceiling.

Someone pushes me up against a fridge and breaks my bracelet. A week later, they bring it back to me, the chain now welded and fixed by their own hand. There’s no world where I believe hands can restore just as much as they break. This challenges my worldview. He drops it silently into the trinket dish next to the bed. He sits down. He expects no praise.

Is it now, is it all colorized in the future-tense, is it the past that whips around like an errant wind. I don’t think you want to find out. I don’t think I want to know.

He says he wants the unexamined life, and I just keep looking at X-rays.

I want to ask if you can sit here with me, just for a little while. I want to see if you’ll flinch. I want to see if I will. If my hands shake, it doesn’t mean anything. If my hands shake, will you pretend you haven't noticed.

He says, “How close can I get before you push back on me?” And I walked past him, as he imagined, in some darkening future.

Wait. The whole point is none of you know who I’m talking about. Wait. The whole point is you don’t know when I’m talking to you. Wait. It’s just that it’s nice for me to think like this. I’m not looming in the closet like a fairytale monster looking to devour you. Wait. I’m sorry. I’m bad at this. But only in theory, not practice. If I put down this knife, will you put away your gun. If I step out from this glass box. Wait.

Let me start again.

Wait. I won’t touch you. I won’t say it out loud. I just wanted to make an altar of mutual existing, a place where there is only time. Wait. I’m trying to show what I say ugly, but it isn’t ugly. It's all open space, a green field, a valley you can't see the end of and the world stacks itself like mountains around us. Do you get it now? There’s the smell of lilacs, grass. Wait. I’m not trying to possess you. I want you more like a horse, flaring nostrils, hooves beating, running wild. I want to admire the silhouette of your freedom as you embody it against the red light of the waning sun. Wait. I’m repulsive, but no one else needs to be. I want you more like art, to study all interpretations of you. I didn’t even bring a rope.

But then I’m suspended. Pinned down. Cast into fire.

And I bite your shoulder.

In this world, we betray our position. In this world, every time we betray our position, we do so through the cage of a sentence, carrying the rabid beast of want, a leashed thing to be put down. Our implications bare teeth at one another before limping off into the shadows. Yes, in this world, it’s a lazy metaphor. But I don’t want to name it. I don’t want to lose.

I touch nothing that doesn’t want to be touched. I touch nothing. Nothing wants to be touched.

[tiwo444]

3-7 Minute Makeup Routine: The Barely Beat

Sometimes, we wanna look effortlessly beautiful, as if we rolled over our beds and woke up as bright angels that just...glow. The Barely Beat does just that. This makeup relies on minimal makeup and basic understanding of your face. Its inexpensive and a lot of the products can be found at your local drugstore or local shop. If clean girl makeup and no makeup makeup had a child, it would be this, and this is my take on a minimal makeup look.

Products

L.A Colors Conceal It in shade Deep

Loreal Lumi Glotion in shade Deep Glow

Maybelline Lash Sensational Sky High Mascara

Loreal Telescopic Mascara

e.l.f Lip Laquer in Whisper Pink

Any clear lip-gloss

Beauty Blender

The Process

So before anything, I like to make sure my skin is prepped and hydrated. Sunscreen is also an important step and I make sure to put it all over my face, neck, and chest and use it as primer.

1.

I start with concealer. I love this concealer because it has a brush tip and my perfect shade so it blends into my skin seamlessly. The key is to apply the concealer wherever you have discoloration AND on your cheeks, forehead, and chin. I apply it in light layers where I have rosacea, under my eyes, around my nose where I have redness, on my smile lines where I have greyness, and on any dark marks and acne. If I need more coverage, I apply another layer or two and blend with my beauty blender like my life depends on it. This evens out your skin tone without it looking like you have too much concealer on.

A big part of this look is very even skin, and even though no one is born with it, everyone can fake it. The concealer shade should be an almost exact shade as your skin tone and shouldn't make you look ashy. If you can't find your perfect shade, mix two shades together (this is what I do with foundation). If your face is a different shade from your chest/neck, apply a lighter shade under your eyes and mid face to give an illusion of even skin.

2.

The second step (that is also the second most important) is highlight!! The key to this whole look is glow. I know people use the Glotion as a glow enhancer before foundation but I like to use it on my face after concealer. I apply it to the back of my hand and use my middle finger to apply the product. I apply it on my cheekbones and blend it all the way to the side of my face, right under my eyes on the outer ends, on my eyebrow bone, on my lids, and on my nose bridge. NOT on my whole face. The Glotion will separate on you if you apply too much all at once so make sure to apply in light layers and letting it somewhat dry between layers. Applying it this way literally gives me the most natural, beautiful, yet UNREAL glow ever. I look like I sweat 24k gold. The concealer and highlight step should be the most time consuming of all the steps.

3.

I then go in and apply one to two coats of Telescopic. The thing I love the most about this mascara is that its very buildable but it's not too much when you don't want it to be. I find that it lengthens your lashes instead of thickening them and I don't feel the need to curl my lashes either.

4.

I use Sky High on my eyebrows. It's pretty self explanatory, I just use the mascara to brush though my brows and I make sure my eyebrows are shaved and shaped to my liking. I follow my natural lash direction and shape and don't care to much about symmetry or perfection.

5.

I then finally go in with my elf lip lacquer and apply it only to the center of my lips. I have two toned lips so I like to make them visible so applying this gloss only to the bottom of my top lip then the center of my bottom lip gives me the 2000's hot older sister, concealer lips, Nicki Minaj Roman Holiday lips look without my lips looking artificial or crazy. The lacquer is pretty sheer though so you have control over how many layers you apply. I've been using this gloss since I was 12 and it has yet to let me down. It's the perfect shade of light pink.

I finally apply clear lip-gloss to top it off. It doesn't matter the lip-gloss brand, just that it's super shiny and I wear whatever clear lip-gloss I can find in my vanity and reapply the lip combo all day. I stay away from lip liner for this look but I occasionally apply liner that is barely a shade darker than my natural lip shade and its not to make my lips bigger but to accentuate my two toned lips. I love my two toned lips too much so the point is to accentuate the contrast between my lips. ♡

The makeup is very minimalistic and brings out your best features, which in my opinion is the best kind of makeup because you still look like you. You don't have to look like the most beautiful woman in the world. You don't have to be Helen of Troy or a gorgeous muse for some famous painter in France. You just have to be the most beautiful woman you can be. Half of this look relies on makeup but the other half relies on an inner glow and beauty. You quite literally won't glow if you don't hydrate yourself, eat enough fruits and veggies, journal, have goals, take care of your emotional/mental health, and take care of your problems in life. The Barely Beat is just the makeup you have on while you solve them.

Happy blending, T.

♡

[hydrachea]

1, 3, 16, 19 and 24 for the blorbo post!

Blorbo ask game

1. who’s the Blorbo that you’ve never posted about on your blog?

I've given one answer already, but let's give another one since I've never seen even a single post about this manga on tumblr. A big shoutout to my girl Shut Hell, who did many things to me when she ripped a man's throat open with her bare teeth.

3. was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made this character your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

Back to Blade because I think this specific one is really funny. He was my blorbo even when I wasn't even playing the game yet. Ravi was telling me about him as they played the game and I looked up some stuff and it was such a critical hit KO I wound up starting the game a few weeks later. The effect a guy who can't die and so has "gets put in the blender" as a trait can have on me is impressive.

16. is your Blorbo canonically alive?

It's complicated.

19. when it comes to Blorbos, do you have a type?

Technically several, but the answer remains oh, absolutely. It's been proven time and time again that friends who know me well enough can come across a character and say "Ray would like that one" and usually end up being entirely correct.

24. if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

I'd give him more screentime and a more significant relationship with the protagonist, though still not as important as the rest of his group has with them. It feels like a bit of a shame that he's so close to the other three but not with them at all even though they were a part of the group too. I'd make it so he was among the ones who taught them how to fight - their "brute force your way through everything" fighting style is very reminiscent of both him and Firefly...

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

I feel like people giving astarion long nails have never been fingered by someone with them before 😭

He's got a tongue lmao

Also I mean, I'm bisexual. So yes I know the importance of keeping your nails short for such activities. I've had to cut mine down to barely anything before for that reason. I wasn't really thinking about "realism" when I put long nails on the digital vampire.

But if I had the option to give him two short nails trust me I would have lmao but it's a video game and we can't get that particular can we? Unless I start learning blender and do it myself or someone makes a mod lol