#this is stupid but it was a really fun way to start the year

[mashtatosworld]

lover boys (4)

summary: 'kissing someone else is not cheating' prank

[GD, TOP, D-LITE]

Kwon Jiyong (GD)

It started as a stupid joke.

You were at a rooftop party, warm summer air mixing with the scent of cigarettes and expensive perfume, lounging with your friends while Jiyong had wandered off to grab more drinks.

And then, someone brought up a ridiculous argument.

“You know what would be hilarious?” your best friend smirked, already three cocktails deep. “If you said, ‘Kissing someone else isn’t cheating’ in front of Jiyong. I bet he’d have a whole crisis.”

The group laughed - because, yeah, Jiyong had mellowed out over the years, but there was still that possessive streak lurking beneath the surface.

“No way,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Come on! He’ll probably write a whole song about it.”

“It’ll be fun,” another friend urged, grinning. “Let’s just see what he does.”

You rolled your eyes, exhaling dramatically. “Fine. Whatever.”

Just then, Jiyong reappeared, two drinks in hand, looking effortlessly handsome in a silk blouse and hat. He slipped into the space beside you with a sweet smile.

This was your moment.

“Well,” you started casually, trying to avoid your friends eager eyes, “I guess it wouldn’t be… cheating if it’s just a kiss.”

His head snapped up.

His eyes locked onto yours.

“…Oh really,” he said after a beat, jaw tensing. "I see."

And then -

That was it.

No protest. No argument. No reaction at all.

He just took a sip from his straw, looking away, completely unfazed.

You blinked. Wait. What?

You had expected an immediate rebuttal, a scoff, an exasperated sigh - something.

But no. He was just calmly accepting this absolute nonsense like it was nothing.

Now you were the one panicking.

You turned to your friends, who were equally thrown off. They shrugged helplessly but kept up with the changing conversation whilst you spiralled.

Jiyong stayed for another moment, then quietly excused himself, slipping off into the crowd.

You watched him disappear, a strange feeling settling in your chest.

"Don't worry," your friend nudged you. "He's probably just brushing it off. He can be defensive."

So you let it go.

For a little while.

Until -

“Oh, shit.”

The girls grew silent and you turned your head, following their intrigued gaze.

Because the man returning to you was not your husband.

Gone was the headscarf and hat, leaving his hair tousled to perfection. His buttoned-up shirt was now loosened at the top, collarbone and tattoos peeking through.

And his usual fruity cocktail - replaced by a glass of straight rum.

The moment you laid eyes on him, your stomach flipped.

He was walking - slower, smoother, more confident than ever, no, not confident. Cocky.

The way he carried himself, the way his dark eyes swept the room like he owned it - this was not the man who shied away from attention.

This was the man who had pursued you years ago.

Dangerous. Sexy. Intense.

Your breath hitched.

He strolled right up to where you stood - a neglected cigarette left to burn between your fingertips, and he tilted his head slightly, gaze hooded, lips curving into the faintest smirk.

“So,” he murmured, swiping the cigarette from your loose grasp. “You come here often?”

You blinked up at him, completely thrown off. “Um… yeah. We come here all the time?"

He hummed, slipping the cigarette between his lips, taking a slow drag before blowing the smoke away.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes dragged over you with a look that sent a thrill straight through you.

He took a sip of his drink, licking his lips, before asking,

“You and your boyfriend?”

What.

You squinted at him. “No… my husband?”

His smirk deepened.

“Where is he?”

You stared.

And then -

It clicked.

He wasn’t Jiyong right now.

He was GDragon.

Oh my god.

The hot, intense, arrogant rapper you had fallen for years ago? The one who had chased you down with that insane, magnetic energy?

Yeah.

He was back.

And your friends?

They were losing their minds.

You heard one of them whispered to another, “Holy shit, he’s doing a bit.”

Meanwhile, you were trying to remember how to breathe.

Jiyong - no, GDragon - was watching you, waiting.

So you played along.

“…He’s around,” you said slowly, lips curling into a smile. “Why? You interested?”

He grinned, leaning closer.

“I don’t do relationships,” he murmured, reaching forward to pass you back the cigarette. His fingers lingered.

“But you… You're a temptation.”

Oh.

Oh, this was bad.

Because you were very, very into this.

Your pulse was racing, heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

The rest of the night was a game.

He stayed in character.

You tried to match him.

It was exciting - the flirting, the teasing, the tension.

It felt like you had been thrown back in time, back to the nights where he was chasing you, back to when he was untouchable and untamed and entirely too much.

The night seemed to stretch on forever, when usually you two would leave and go home to your cats - cozying up on the couch. But he had dragged you along when everyone piled into the car, heading to a downtown club.

A club.

It had been years since you two spent all night touching and dancing, sneaking off to the side to kiss against a wall like no one was watching.

You tried to keep up.

You really did.

But when you finally got home?

The moment you stepped inside, you collapsed onto the couch, kicking off your heels with a groan.

Your husband chuckled, rolling his shoulders.

You turned your head, half-lidded, exhausted, but still burning.

“…I think we’re getting old.”

His grin widened.

And then -

He scooped you up effortlessly.

“I’ve got about twenty minutes of GDragon left in me before I need my pyjamas and cuddles.” His voice was low and teasing. “That long enough?”

You swallowed.

“…Hell yeah.”

He carried you into the bedroom and tossed you onto the bed, crawling over you but just before he kissed you, you hesitated.

“Wait,” you murmured, arms around his neck. “You know I don’t actually believe that, right?”

His eyes softened.

Jiyong kissed your forehead, slow and tender.

“Jagi,” he whispered. “We’ve been together nearly ten years.”

He looked down at you, eyes full of knowing.

“I know.”

Because of course, he knew.

You two were connected.

Always.

He lips then found yours - hard and possessive.

And just like that, you were done for.

Because even after all these years, the darker side of your husband was still there.

And damn it, you loved it.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Seunghyun (TOP)

You were at some fancy dinner party, champagne glasses clinking, warm conversations buzzing around you.

And the topic of the table?

What counts as cheating?

Your friends were going back and forth, debating, until someone turned to you.

“What do you thinkm, y/n? If it’s just a kiss, is it really cheating?”

You barely had time to react before your best friend nudged you, grinning.

“C’mon, say it. I dare you.”

You laughed.

You knew this was a trap.

Seunghyun was sitting right beside you, leisurely sipping his wine, not caring to indulge in the conversation though still entertained. But his tensed frame told you that he was listening intently.

You thought about it.

Then - for fun, just to tease him - you shrugged.

“I mean…” You exhaled dramatically. “I guess it wouldn’t really be cheating - ”

Pfft.

Seunghyun made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, eyes flicking to you in amused disbelief.

“You can try,” he said smoothly, setting his wine glass down.

His voice was low, velvety, and incredibly confident.

Then he added -

“…Not like I’d ever let someone get the chance.”

You raised your brow.

The conversation continued to flow around you but something about the way he said it sent a little shiver down your spine.

Because Seunghyun was usually the calm, reserved type. He wasn’t the jealous, reactive boyfriend.

At least… not outwardly.

But tonight?

Well.

The moment he made that little comment, his entire energy shifted.

Suddenly, Seunghyun was on guard.

You didn’t even notice it at first.

But the next time someone came up to you to start a conversation, Seunghyun was just… there.

Like a shadow.

Standing so close, his presence looming, quiet but firm.

And when the guy in front of you hesitated - eyes flicking between you and your tall boyfriend - you realised.

Seunghyun was blocking you.

A human wall.

No one was getting through.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

The longer the night went on, the worse it got.

He wasn’t letting anyone near you.

You moved? He moved.

You reached for a drink? He grabbed it for you.

Someone tried to say hello? Seunghyun’s arm was already around your waist.

Usually, he wasn’t one for public affection.

But tonight?

Oh, he was all over you.

A hand on your lower back.

Fingers trailing along your arm.

His lips brushing your neck as he leaned in to murmur something about how “this party is getting boring, isn’t it, Princess?”

He wasn’t worried.

At all.

Because he was your big, scary, intimidating boyfriend.

And he could just… whisk you away whenever he wanted.

Which, apparently - he would.

Because at one point, mid-conversation, you suddenly felt your feet leave the ground.

What the - ?!

You barely had time to process before Seunghyun lifted you under the arms like you were a stray kitten and just moved you.

Like you weighed nothing.

“Seunghyun!” you gasped, laughing as he carried you a few steps away before placing you down like it was nothing.

He smirked, completely unbothered.

“What?” he asked, voice deep and amused.

You gawked at him, still half-laughing. “You just - moved me! Like a child!”

His brow raised slightly, eyes twinkling.

“Well,” he shrugged, tilting his head, voice dropping -

“I wasn’t about to let him finish that conversation.”

Your stomach flipped.

And that was when you realised -

He wasn’t playing around.

Possessive T.O.P had fully taken over.

Your fingers curled slightly against his chest, voice softer now.

“You know I wouldn’t actually ever do that, right?”

His eyes flicked over your face - sharp, unreadable.

Then he leaned down, lips brushing just past your ear.

“Good,” he murmured. “Shall I remind you why?"

You sucked in a breath.

Oh.

Oh, you really, really liked that.

And from the way his smirk deepened -

He knew.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Daesung (D-Lite)

The car ride home was loud - music playing, voices overlapping, the leftover energy of the night buzzing between all of you.

It had been a great night out, full of laughter, drinks, and just enough teasing touches between you and Daesung to make your heart race.

And then, someone in the front seat casually threw out the question:

“So, do you guys think kissing someone else counts as cheating?”

The car exploded with reactions -

“OF COURSE.”

“Duh???”

“Well, actually, it depends - ”

Daesung chuckled along with everyone, but his gaze fell to you.

Waiting.

Watching.

And when you decided not to chip into the conversation his expression dropped.

Still new in your relationship, he was tuned in to every little thing about you - every glance, every shift of your expression, every small hesitation.

And you?

You had hesitated for a second too long.

You could feel Daesung’s gaze burning into the side of your face.

But before you could answer, the conversation moved on.

The car filled with more chatter and laughter, but Daesung?

Daesung fell silent, eyes focused on the moving city beyond the tinted window.

When the car pulled up to your apartment, your roommates got out, saying their goodbyes.

You turned to Daesung.

“I'm still staying with you tonight, right?”

He nodded.

But something was off.

The usual warmth in his face had faded.

Instead, he was staring at his phone, brows furrowed, fingers moving quickly over the screen.

You tilted your head.

“…You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice too casual. “Just… tired.”

"Well, you did out do everyone at karaoke." You smile, patting his thigh and letting it rest there. Your boyfriend had practically given your roommates a full concert and they loved it.

You were so happy your boyfriend and friends seemed to get along. And they loved even more when his private driver showed up to collect everyone, saving the group a trip home in the rain.

Once at his place, the two of you slowly wound down - changing into comfortable clothes, playing soft music.

But Daesung?

Still quiet.

He was fidgety, fixated on his phone, tugging his hair and covering his lower face as he intently stared at the screen in his hand.

The tension was killing you.

So you joined him on the sofa and bumped your knee against his.

“Wanna make cookies?”

His head slowly lifted.

“…Cookies?”

You grinned. “Yeah. You love cookies. And you always boast you make the best."

For the first time since the car ride, he smiled.

“Okay.”

Thirty minutes later and Daesung stood at the counter, hands completely covered in dough.

“…This can’t be right,” he muttered, frowning at the sticky mess between his fingers.

You laughed, grabbing his phone. “Let me check the recipe - ”

You weren’t prepared for what you saw.

Because his recent search history?

help I think my girlfriend wants to break up with me how to stop your soulmate from breaking up with you my heart hurts - is this normal or am I dying??? can you have a heart attack at 27?

You blinked.

Then you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

Daesung stiffened.

“…What?”

You turned to him, holding up the phone.

“Baby…” you cooed, fighting back a grin. “Is this why you’ve been so quiet?”

His eyes darted to the phone.

Then his hands.

Then the phone.

Then back at you.

He was trapped.

Hands covered in wet dough, unable to grab the phone or defend himself.

“…Maybe,” he mumbled, looking down at the failed mixture.

You burst out laughing.

“Oh, my sweet, love.” You wrapped your arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I would never do that to you.”

His shoulders relaxed, exhaling loudly.

“…Really?”

“Of course.” You kissed him again, smiling. “You’re my favourite person.”

His face broke into a bright, relieved grin. You leaned closer once more and - instinctively - he raised his hand to cup your cheek.

Except.

His hands were still covered in wet dough.

You yelped, jerking back.

“DAE - !”

His eyes widened in horror.

“Oh -OH NO - ”

But it was too late.

His doughy, flour-covered fingers had left a big, smudged handprint on your cheek.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

And then -

You both cracked up laughing.

Falling into each other, breathless and giggling, the earlier tension completely gone.

He then sat you on the counter, grabbing a soft towel. And as he wiped your face clean - pressing a hundred tiny kisses all over to make up for it - you realised something.

Daesung might be sensitive, a total over thinker, and a little dramatic…

But he was also the sweetest, most loveable person ever.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

damn lover boys was highly requested - sorry i've been slow with it! hope you enjoy loves <3

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford , @lariem-blog2 , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby

[bugbutton]

this person made a banger remix out of it, just because they were having fun, and i think it deserves way more views and praise. the description says:

"I'm about two years late for this to be relevant, but here we are. This started out as me showing a friend how different autotune and pitch correction tools work, and it ended up being a passion project I kept polishing over and over again. Sometimes all it takes is a really stupid idea. Gotta love the creative process."

and if that's not a little bit inspiring, I'll eat a glove on stream.

you can even download and stream it on soundcloud !

every single person is my enemy

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @stobinmonth and @corrodedcoffinfest.

It's Tradition

Stobin Month Prompt: Tradition & CCF Spring Break Prompt: Beach | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | POV: Robin | Pairing: Platonic Stobin, Steddie | CW: Mentions of Recreation Drug/Alcohol Use, Steve's Neglectful Parents | Tags: Childhood Friends AU, Reuniting

It's tradition. The annual week-long Buckley family trip to the beach. A highlight of the year, until her parents made it clear they didn't want to go anymore.

All good things must come to an end. 

They just couldn't understand Robin didn't want to go somewhere new. That Robin didn't want it to end. That she needed to go to the same house, on the same beach, where she spent a week each year of her childhood. 

That she wanted to go where she last saw Steve. At least one more time.

Even though Steve hasn't been there the last six years her family visited, and she heard the Harrington house sold when his parents divorced. That's the gossip around this small coastal town, anyway.

Either way, the Harringtons are long gone, taking Steve with them.

But he was the best friend she's ever had, and turning up for a week every spring and getting to see him was a staple of her childhood.

So, with her summer job savings she rented the same house her family always did, and sits on the screened-in porch.

Harrington's old house definitely doesn't have Steve in it, instead a family with a bunch of little kids that are loving their time on the water. On the other side, there's a rowdy group, loud at all hours, but closer to her age. She watches them, trying to not be sad that this last attempt was a bust. 

One of the guys is currently swinging his girlfriend around in circles as she screams, delighted. Two others are making s'mores. And the long-haired one is running around in circles like a maniac. Harassing his friends on a loop. At least they're having fun. She's seen them drink, smoke weed, and poke at a bonfire.

This was stupid. It's been six years, of course he was never coming back. He probably doesn't even remember her. She was just some girl that turned up once a year for a week at a time.

She hears another car pull up behind the house next door, and their place has been grand central station. This time it's another dark-haired guy that the long-haired one is immediately pawing at, much to the complaints of the others.

Then, the newcomer turns and looks towards her house. 

Steve.

At least, she thinks that's Steve. He just grew up. Has a better haircut.

Robin feels frozen to the porch swing, unsure if he can see her or not. If he'll even remember her if he can.

"Robin?!" he yells, then comes darting across the sand. She stands, crosses the porch and throws open the door.

She barely makes it out onto the deck before she's wrapped up in a big hug, "Robin Buckley! I didn't think, I mean, I knew it was a long shot when I rented this other house, but it's you! You're you!"

She's her. And he's him. She starts to cry. She really never thought she'd see him again.

"Robin's here!" Steve yells and the rest of them cheer, like they were totally in on this as a possibility. 

He didn't forget.

He wanted to see her too.

Later, after all the introductions have been made, Robin joins them around the fire they've built. Eddie, Steve's boyfriend, and boy was she delighted to find that out, is in a band and have finally made enough for a real vacation.

Steve planned for it to be here, over spring break, hoping to see her.

Jeff is picking out a soft tune on his guitar, and they are all razzing him, saying it's not metal enough, but before long, two more guitars are fetched from the house and Gareth's beating on an upside down bucket. Diana in the sand, resting her head against his thigh, seemingly unconcerned with the flailing of his arms.

Trusting he won't hit her. 

The music's a little aggressive, but they blend well. 

Steve leans into Robin's side, explaining, "They're a heavy metal band."

"They're good at this," she says. She can't believe this is really Steve. It feels like they haven't missed a day.

"And they know it, despite the bitching. Don't let them fool you, they aren't that cool. They did a bit of wedding band gigging early on to make ends meet."

She giggles, delighted by the image of that.

"I like Eddie," she says.

"I was kinda worried you'd, like, disapprove."

"Hello? I like girls, dingus. I figured that was always obvious."

"Not that obvious," he says, and she laughs. He was never the most observant kid on earth.

"Where'd you wind up, you just disappeared?" she asks.

"Boarding school," he answers, and she reaches over and squeezes his hand.

"I'm sorry," she says, and she is. 

"Well, it made me into a boy kisser," he teases, and she leans on his shoulder, and giggles.

"It did not."

"It didn't, but it may have put jumper cables on my bisexual awakening."

She smiles, "Are you happy now?"

And Steve looks over at Eddie, riffing back and forth with his band, "Very."

Robin smiles, "He's kinda feral."

"Well, that's his best quality," Steve teases, adding, "They're playing in a bar down the beach tomorrow night. I hope you'll come."

She nods. She'll go anywhere he wants her to this week, as long as she gets to see Steve again.

The next night, Steve's walking around the small venue, and she realizes he's somehow in charge of this dog and pony show. Robin sits at a table with Diana, and waits for the band to get started.

Robin can see Eddie and Gareth jumping up and down, just off-stage, bumping chests.

Diana rolls her eyes, but she's clearly fond, "It's tradition. I don't ask questions."

Robin likes traditions. Finds comfort in them.

And as Corroded Coffin is announced, Steve settles in the wings where she can see him. He grew up. They both did, and now she hopes they can make new traditions with friends, together.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on Spring Break prompts, or to offer up your own!

For more Stobin, pop on over to @stobinmonth to follow along with the fun!

[qadmonster]

Listen to an old man ramble about his oldest abandoned world-building endeavor in an attempt to show vulnerability to the judges:

When we were kids, my sister and I came up with a story idea about a 12-year-old girl named Naya Somerville that climbs into an old toybox and ends up in the land of monsters. I've held onto this idea for ages and it's gone through a lot of iterations and changes over time as I got inspired by other things, but I don't have any official documentation or story beats written or planned out, nor do I know what medium would be best for the ideas I have.

Over time the story went from her magically traveling to the world of monsters and trying to get home, to her being essentially spirited away and wanting to stay, to her just being kinda born there and setting off on an adventure to be like her hero "Adventure Girl" who was a Bindi Irwin style educational TV personality. One thing has remained pretty constant though, she has a little companion dog-like monster with a brash personality that has more knowledge about the monster world than her but also could fight, his signature attack being "Dog Paw Punch". His name was originally Poogle (from poodle and beagle) but that was stupid but I can't remember what I changed it too. His design got a lot more doglike.

Naya had other pals too, like a lazy silkworm that lived in a censer that could instantly make her cute new outfits and an octopus barber with a jamaican accent that would do her hair. At some point I thought to give her cellphone that she could use to summon her monster friends as she befriended them. I had lots of little story beats, but nothing concrete as I could never make up mind about anything. Like, one idea was that she had to fight alien ants from the moon to save the monster world. There was one where she has to get a bunch of flower monsters called Blahlias to the top of a treacherous moutain so they can get watered by the rain from a rainbow and transform into Dazzlinnias so a village can have a festival (or something). Junk like that. Really saturday-morning-cartoon type stuff.

The monster world itself was a really fun and interesting place filled with all kinds of stuff kids would gag for, like bubble rain and grass growing on the tops of clouds, and of course lots of monsters! I wanted a place that was really fun to adventure through, and I was inspired by the kind of crap I liked when I was a kid like Teddy Ruxpin and the Carebears and Alice in Wonderland. When I went to college and got into neopets I started coming up with all sorts of different fruits and vegetables that could be found in the world.

As far as the monsters I was really inspired by videogame monsters, not just pokemon and digimon but like rpg enemies and bosses and even enemies from platformers. The style was mostly heavily based on pokemon though.

Originally there weren't any human characters and the monster world was just filled with monsters, but I did try coming up with some humanoid races and that's how I got the Beastables who were basically half human and half monster/animal.

There was also a race of people that wore dome shaped helmets that covered their eyes and another human character, Archibald, who was sort of Naya's rival. He was a ginger-haired apprentice alchemist for some reason. Also, there where witches who were a race. They had no visible eyes (long bangs and big hats) and were all blue and purple and really kind.

I'd like to re-explore some of these ideas at some point. I think some of the base components could make for interesting little games, but I'd never be able to do a comic or anything like that. I came up with ways it could be a game, from a turned based rpg to an explortation based cozy game. Naya has shown up in other story and game ideas I've had but I still don't have a definitive design for her yet.

I like the idea of her being an adventurer and having a magical cellphone; but, I wonder where I can go from there (without being boldly and outright derivative).

Wow, you read all that? You rock! You igneous bastard.

[galaxymagitech]

hello!! i'm a big fan of your fic "Bleed the Poison Out" (and i'm definitely putting it on multiple fic rec lists). it has such a good portrayal of bruce and dick's relationship <3

so for the ask game: ✰ NEW SHAPES ☹ EVIL TWIN ♡ SMALL THINGS

Thank you so much!!! That is one of my favorite fics I’ve written, and probably in my top three of Bruce & Dick fics to write, so I’m really glad you enjoyed it. Sorry for taking so long :(

Bleed the Poison Out | Ask Game

♡ SMALL THINGS: pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite minor detail from it!

Hmm. This fic means a lot to me, so it’s difficult to find something that feels minor, but…I think I’d go with the soft rug that has the pizza sauce and blood stains. The fic can feel very isolating (to me, at least), like Bruce and Dick are the only two people in the world—even when other people come up, they’re a distraction tactic. But the rug is just there, and a sign of Dick’s connections beyond just Bruce. Even if he never talked to Bruce again (although he will talk to Bruce again), he would still have a family.

✰ NEW SHAPES: send me a fic and I’ll give you an alternate direction the fic could have gone!

Well, when I first started planning this fic (for last year's Dick Grayson Anniversary Week), I was trying to make it an actual heartwarming, complete apology that, while not fixing everything, left a very solid foundation. But every single fully sincere apology I could think of felt utterly ridiculous. I genuinely could not suspend my disbelief enough to believe that Bruce could apologize in a way that doesn’t make things worse. So, I ended up pulling out a draft that was permanently consigned to my notes. It was a personal thing, not fit for posting, but I figured I could try to fix it up.

After that, I think the main thing that nearly went differently was that I almost cut it off because I couldn’t think of an ending. Instead of getting through to Bruce, Dick would have forced down his feelings in the end, accepted Bruce’s apology (and lack of apology for the incidents they disagree on) and then Bruce would leave. And Dick would be alone.

But then I found a turning point, where Dick voices something that's just so out of place that it forces Bruce to confront how his actions are so messed up that they've created these really messed-up (but realistic, I think) thought processes. That, despite not meaning to, he hurt his son.

☹ EVIL TWIN: send me a fic or scene and I’ll give you the unhappy ending version of it!

This was really fun. My first thought was that the conversation escalated and Bruce got violent again, but I figured that's boring, and I could do better. So I challenged myself to imagine the actual worst dumpster fire of an ending possible. And then I worked back from there to light that fire.

That turning point I mentioned in the previous question? It could very easily have sent the conversation careening in the opposite direction. So I’ve started the story from there. Enjoy your dumpster fire ending!

***

“I want you to hit me again,” Dick admits. For a moment, there’s silence. And then—

“What.” Bruce’s voice is flat and cold. Dick flinches at the sound of it.

He—it made sense in his head. If Bruce just…just hit him. Now. After Spyral. Not under mind control. No Court of Owls, or dead sons, or dead friends, or justification. If Bruce just hit him, Dick would know. He would know that this is what Bruce does, that Bruce hits him, that it’s a thing, and Dick can be angry all he wants and it won’t be just stupid, childish resentment.

But sitting in the silence and listening to the words echo in his ears, Dick knows there has to be something wrong with him, something that makes him push and poke and prod and provoke until Bruce loses his patience. After all, what kind of kid—not that Dick is a kid, but he sure feels like one right now—what kind of kid wants his father to hit him? What kind of kid says that out loud?

When Bruce speaks again, his words dig their claws into Dick’s heart and scoop out the rot hiding inside. Because, as much as Dick wishes he wasn’t, Bruce is right. “If you’re looking for whatever villain you’ve built up in your head, Dick, you’re not going to get it.”

“Villain,” Dick echoes. Everything is cold, not just Bruce’s voice. The air in his apartment. The air in his lungs. The cavity Bruce has carved into his chest where his heart is supposed to beat.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Bruce asks. “I fired you. I’m to blame for Jason’s death. I’m to blame for everything, aren’t I?” Dick’s fists clench, thumbs trapped against the wood of the table. “I made mistakes. I’ll be the first to admit that. But—”

“Mistakes?” Dick can’t keep the hysteria out of his tone. He was trying to be calm. Reasonable. He alwaystries. But something about arguing with Bruce turns him into a timebomb. And sooner or later, he explodes. And even if he calms down, even if he tries to reel himself in, he just explodes again. And again. And again. Until one of them leaves. “You want to talk about Jason’s death? Because you blamed me for that too, and then you hit me, and the first time you even thought to apologize is half a decade later! You beat me until I agreed to leave my family behind and go on that godforsaken mission and even now, you can’t even acknowledge what you did! All you can say is that you made mistakes!”

“What do you even want me to say, then?” Bruce asks. His face is contorted with something that Dick has only seen a few times before. In the cave, after Jason’s death. As Batman pulled him from Blüdhaven’s wreckage. In the cave again, after the Crime Syndicate. It’s a face Dick has only ever seen on Batman in their worst moments together. But now, Bruce is wearing it, and Dick can’t force his lungs to breathe. “You’re acting like a child, right now.”

“Maybe stop treating me like one then!” Dick screams.

He doesn’t mean it in the way he meant it at twelve, at sixteen, at nineteen. He doesn’t mean that Bruce isn’t giving him enough responsibility or independence, or that Bruce doesn’t trust him.

Dick means that he will never be able to say anything to convince Bruce that he did more than just make a mistake. No matter what, Dick’s words will always be less trustworthy, less valid, less real. Bruce will hold a court session in his head and Dick’s thoughts will never be anything other than an unreliable eyewitness testimony.

That’s unfair to Bruce. Dick has no way of proving that he’s right—about Bruce hitting him after Gordon’s supposed death, about the events before Spyral being more than just a brutal spar, about Bruce’s actions being a step above mistake and crossing over into something he doesn’t want to name. Why should Bruce trust him, when he accidentally lied about not agreeing to spar? Why should Bruce trust him, when he took the most thorough apology Bruce has ever given and pushed and prodded until he made it another argument, just like he always does?

But it still stings.

Bruce’s response stings even more.

“I tried to apologize,” Bruce says. “I sat here while you accused me of one terrible thing after the next. But—”

Dick can’t help but interrupt. (That’s wrong. He needs to take responsibility; he can help it. He just doesn’t.)“It’s not an apology if—”

“—playing the victim—”

“—you’re arguing with me—”

“—own up to my flaws but—” 

“—every other second!”

“I won’t apologize for something I never did!” Bruce roars, hands slamming into the table as he stands. The surface trembles, and Dick wonders if this will be it, and the kitchen table will finally crack. He’ll get a bigger one, this time. One with room for enough chairs for everyone.

His mind, Dick realizes, is not totally there. He can hear everything Bruce is saying. He can see the kitchen around them. But right now, the world doesn’t feel entirely real. “I didn’t ask you to!” Dick yells back. He thinks at least. He can’t really tell. His voice sounds too-loud and too-quiet at the same time. “I didn’t ask you to break into my apartment when I just wanted to sleep and try to talk about it, okay? Nothing’s stopping you from leaving!”

“I was trying to make things right!” Bruce screams, stepping forwards. Dick scrambles out of his chair and takes a step back, towards the corner of the kitchen. Away from the door. Not that Dick could reach the door anyway—Bruce is blocking the exits.

Dick remembers noticing that, when Bruce sat down. That Bruce put himself between Dick and the exits. Because he both of them appreciate being able to watch all the entrances, but he doesn’t know that right now, Dick feels like a cornered animal. Bruce would never have thought that Dick needed an exit to feel safe. “This?” Dick sweeps an arm out. “This is not making things right! This is making things worse, like you always do!”

Bruce takes another step forward. This time, Dick refuses to give any more ground. There’s not much further he can retreat in the corner anyway. Bruce opens his mouth, presumably to scream something else, before he abruptly pauses. When he speaks again, his voice is cutting, but no longer a scream. A knife, instead of a club. A knife that buries itself in Dick’s chest and twists. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You said you want me to hit you. And so you do this.” Bruce shakes his head. “This isn’t you, Dick. There’s something wrong with you, right now, making you act like this. Have you been exposed to any—”

Bruce says more, but Dick can’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. All he knows is that he needs to get out. He needs to get out. He needs to get out.

He can’t get out. The exits are blocked.

He needs to—

Over the next few weeks, Dick will look back on this moment and replay it over and over again in his head. He will try to tell himself that he was just acting instinctively, that he wasn’t thinking, that his vigilante brain perceived a threat and lashed out. But he’ll know better.

Dick hand forms a practiced fist and strikes Bruce in the face.

No. Dick needs to take responsibility. Dick strikes Bruce in the face.

And for a moment, the world freezes. Bruce, with his head thrown to the side. Dick, with a fist raised, blood beginning to well from where one of his knuckles scraped against a tooth. And the room, empty, with no one to bear witness. Just like always.

Except it’s entirely different.

Dick sucks a breath of air into the vacuum of his lungs. Bruce slowly lifts his head. For a moment, they both stare at each other.

And then Dick collapses against the wall, barely remaining upright. His mind is filled with a cacophony of voices, all screaming the same thing. “I’m sorry,” Dick says. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I swear, I’m sorry.”

Dick hit him. Not to fight him while he was making a mistake. He just hit him. During an argument.

Bruce has never hit Dick outside costume. Even during the spar, they wore their cowl and mask.

Dick didn’t just hit Bruce, didn’t just make a horrible—a horrible mistake. He crossed a line.

“I’m sorry,” Dick repeats. It’s all he can do. He knows how it sounds. ‘I didn’t mean to’s and ‘I’m sorry’s. “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Are you done?” Bruce asks, wiping away the blood from a cut on his lower lip. His voice isn’t warm, but it isn’t cold either. It just is. Are you done? Are you done being a problem? Are you done escalating every fucking argument you get into? Are you done playing the victim, when you just struck someone you love and made him bleed?

“Please,” Dick says. He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. Forgiveness? That would make it worse. If Bruce forgave him. What he did— “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Bruce says quietly. “I’m sorry too.” Bruce shouldn’t be apologizing. Dick hit him. This is all wrong.

Bruce was right. Dick keeps playing the victim, when all he’s done is create the problems.

Bruce helps Dick into his chair at the table and steps back. Dick’s skin crawls the whole time, but he can’t think of anything except the impact of Bruce’s skin beneath his fist. “I’ll see you next week,” Bruce says. “There’s a case that could use another pair of hands.”

Dick looks down. When he looks back up, Bruce is gone. He doesn’t know quite how long it was between.

All this time, Dick held grievances against Bruce for, what? Treating him like an equal? Like someone he could speak to honestly? Like someone who could stand up for himself if he didn’t want to spar?

Bruce wanted to apologize. And Dick responded by hitting him.

It’s clear, now, where the poison lies. Seeping into Dick’s blood. Dripping from the cut on his knuckle. Pulsing within his very veins.

[retquits]

our theater for sonic 3 was exclusively children except for me and my brothers and, inexplicably, one solo 70ish year old man. i couldn't stop thinking about him so i drew him with shadow the hedgehog. i hope he liked the movie

[hsslilly-blog]

blair portrait! i've done one for claribel, so they should get one as well. this is junior year blair!

this has been done for a while but i had been putting off fixing what was bothering me. so i did that and edited it as an yearbook. i think it's really fun to imagine blair doing american high school things since they're not american, so all of this is new for them. they're figuring everything out as they go. yearbook? aye. cheer team? sure. homecoming? i don't know what that is but yeah pal it's coming home <- not a fan of those guys though, julian.

[weirfq1]

with all these gaston crackships/rarepairs that are coming out lately it would be so fucking funny if he had a flig with all the main characters (ambar, nina, simon... hell luna too if you want) and they all know it except matteo

[brains-out-rn]

I don't like debating much(unless necessary for the sake of my own humanity) but sometimes it can be really Really fun specifically if it's about something that has absolutely no real weight to it(and yet if you were a spectator it might cause some concern for whatever reason)

for example: would you rather be threatened(physically mentally or emotionally take your pick) by a can of corn or a cob of corn?

Me personally I'd pick cob for a few reasons

1. I can outlast it(probably)

Fresh corn will eventually rot and decay but have you seen how long canned stuff can last unopened before it looks slightly different from new stuff??

2. Cans are made of metal not vegetable flesh

While a corn cob has its core that's not metal. Ever dropped a can? Might get a dent. If you have a good kick then you might survive but you will probably hurt your foot. Ever dropped corn? If it had it outer leaves and hair it might have stood a chance but if it didn't then bits of corn go everywhere

3. Actually fighting if needed

I feel like I could survive a fight with a sentient can but a sentient cob just seems less likely to hurt

However there are some things might change my decision

Like issue one which is how the corn moves because if the cob is fresh with hair and leaves and can move all the little hairs individually and can move the leaves then I'd probably choose the can because at that point I feel like it's less of "how would i survive with the least amount of bruising" and more of "how would I rather die but with a chance of surviving" and in my opinion i think blunt force trauma would be better then a slow death of strangulation via a sentient corns hair plus I do think I'd have a chance against a can of corn

Another issue is if it was mentally or emotionally I'd probably go with the can bc I feel like it would be easier for to rationalize it as ridiculous to be threatened by a can of corn then a cob for some reason

Like a cob is ridiculous to the point that I'd just accept it as making sense for that to happen?

a can is like "why am I listening to the can of corn. I literally own a can opener." But a cob is more like "if I were to try and deal with you in the traditional way of dealing with corn that would mean a pot and water and time and-"

Plus idk why but I feel like a cob would be less mean with its words. I can't explain it I just think cob would just go straight to physical threats instead of emotional ones but a can would stare at you menacingly making you question yourself and just judging you

[pardonmydelays]

i also think it's kinda cool how tyler makes me want to learn stuff

[peppersnot]

.

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[theintelligentfool]

i enjoyed high school! i had a lot of friends! some of them were even close! but holy SHIT . i can say, with full confidence now. HIGH SCHOOL SUCKS SHIT and im GLAD I DON'T GO THERE!!!

[dashiellqvverty]

my opinion on season 11 is that ian and mickey were all over the place from episode to episode and i ultimately wasn’t very happy with where it ended for them

[orcelito]

Guys I think the writing for fire emblem engage is somehow worse than fire emblem fates. Im a longtime fire emblem fan, I've played every recent game, and this... this is just Awful lmfao

Im still having plenty of fun & I have my handful of characters I love soooo much. But God fucking damn this writing is just some of the worst I've ever seen in a game

(Major spoilers in tags. Ran out of tags so I can't spoiler tag hfkshfj.

Final conclusion (since I ran out of tags): What Even Is This Fucking Game. Definitely my least favorite fire emblem game in many respects, but By God I'm going to finish this bitch and I'm gonna have plenty of fun as I do so. And I'm also going to make fun of every narrative choice it makes along the way bc the writing in this game is just SO fucking bad holy shit. I just need to finish this game and get on with my life already. God fuckin damn.)