#unfortunately i have a lot going on right now anyway so i cannot do anything but draw my cat girl

[cacw]

Ok well you should be grateful i'm only drawing my catgirl right now because if i wasn't i would be shoving dirk strider in your face

[marsdql]

Skating on thin ice

♡ 𝒥 — [ 양정원 ] ⊹₊⟡⋆ jungwon ── .✦ f!reader ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ . . . 𝒲𝒸 2.1𝒦

──── eyes full of 𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓈𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃𝓈, we walk past eachother, pretending there’s no 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓃ℯ𝒸𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃 . . . { a lot of teasing, frenemies to lovers, fluff, crack, low self esteem, highschool drama, romance, bullying, self doubt, light angst? }

────୨ৎ────

“Y/n, I swear if I have to ask you to finish your homework once more, your phone will be on the side of the road!” Your mother yelled from across the kitchen.

Highschool has been on your back this year, everything becoming more and more difficult as the days fly by. You were never a math girl—science, sure. But math? Never. Definitely your worst subject. Nothing really ever made sense, well sometimes it did, but only in budget related stuff—of course you were only good in budgeting, shopping addict.

To make things better—Yang Jungwon, a boy who transferred just a year ago, would always pick on you for your math grades each time he’d see your note from the corner of his nosey eye. If you knew better, you’d make fun of him too—his science grade was trashy, while yours were always colourful.

He never meant any harm from it, he only does it because of the time you humiliated him in PE class when you got higher than him in the beep test, infront of all of his friends who were watching from outside your gym class. Although, your sensitive self cannot handle any insults towards your grades—especially when you’re trying all you’ve got—and still getting so low.

“Another 5? Comon now y/nnie, we’re IB students! You shouldn’t be getting this low now… didn’t you want to become a doctor?” Jungwon whispered in your ear from behind. You quickly yanked his head from your shoulder, making him jump back into place onto his seat behind you. ‘Do you ever get tired of making fun of me? Go focus on your own things.’ ‘I can’t focus on my own things when you have too many flaws…’ he said as he gave you a wink and plopped a lolly into his mouth.

As you were walking to the bus to go home, you were stopped again—by jungwon. “What do you want now, jungwon?” You said in an annoyed tone. “Hey, what’s with the attitude… I’m not here to say anything mean, unfortunately. My friend Sunghoon told me to ask you if you did ice skating, he said he saw your instagram profile and you had something about it in your bio” You were obsessed with figure skating, you claimed that you knew how to skate—when in reality, you fell the last time you tried it and now too scared to try it again. Yet, you still had it in your bio and made it seem as if you were a skater…

As a child, you didn’t do much sports like most people. You wanted to do taekwondo—too boyish for your parents. You wanted to do basketball—lost passion for it after 4th grade. You did gymnastics/dance—wasn’t as flexible as your other friends and got discouraged, slowly growing out of it. Now as a teenager, you felt the need to know a sport, but you knew that it’s only good to be actually amazing at a sport if you started it when you were young.

You went to a sports school and you were one of the only ones who never tried out for anything, too scared of people being better than you because of them doing the sports from a young age. —— “Y/n? Hello? Are you even listening to me? You loser… why are you zoning out at this time? Don’t make me scare you out of it!” Yelped the boy right next to you. “No! Okay? Get out of my face jungwon! I don’t know what you’re saying but whatever it is, no!” You forgot what he even said—too lost in thought to care. It was your stop so you had to hop off anyway.

Days pass by, it’s depressing during winter, nothing to do, especially on Christmas break. Suddenly, a loud, aggressive knock on your door catches your attention. Coming from behind it, “y/n! Y/n! Comon! I know you’re there, I can hear your grumpy sighs from here!”

As you opened the door, you were welcomed by his huge smile—jungwon’s. “Now, what on Earth are you doing here? Is it to tell my mom that-“ as you were about to finish your sentence, you spot your mom and another woman—who seems to be jungwon’s mother—walk from the driveway to your front door.

“Y/n, please welcome our guests with respect and go get the kettle ready. Now miss Yang, what do you prefer? Tea or coffee?” Said your mother before you were even able to process what was happening.

Jungwon stared at you with the biggest grin on his face—as if he planned this from the start. He stayed behind you in your house as you walked towards your kitchen, being the good daughter you are and doing what your mother telling you to do.

“Okay, so, care to tell me what you’re doing here? Did you convince your mother to become friends with mine so that you could annoy me in my own house aswell?” You asked him, avoiding eye contact at all costs—because the last thing you needed, was to add something on his list of “things to hate on y/n”.

As you turned on the kettle, filling it up with water, he responded with a more serious tone than usual “no seriously this time, they saw eachother at the supermarket near our school and recognized eachother from social media.. I didn’t believe it either when I saw my mom pull into your drive way.” How did he even know it was your house.. “and don’t ask me how I know it’s your house, you practically run off the bus and make it to your door before it can even driving.”

As Jungwon sat at the kitchen table, his usual smirk returned. “Anyway, back to the real question. Do you ice skate or not? Sunghoon won’t stop bugging me about it.”

You sighed, suddenly regretting every choice that led to you putting “figure skater enthusiast” in your Instagram bio. Avoiding his gaze, you muttered, “No, I don’t actually ice skate.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows shot up, his teasing grin reappearing. “Wait—what? But your bio—”

“I know, okay?” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively. “I just… I like watching figure skating, and I wanted to seem interesting, okay? People who are good at sports always seem so… cool. And I’m not good at anything.”

His grin faded, replaced by an unusually soft expression. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re good at plenty of things.”

You scoffed. “Name one.”

He leaned back, pretending to think. “Well, for starters, you’re great at making me laugh. Even when you’re mad. And you crushed me in that beep test, remember?”

“That doesn’t count,” you muttered, though your lips twitched upward. “I’m still not good at sports. Or anything else, really.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “Stop putting yourself down, y/n. You’re good at science, better than I’ll ever be. And honestly? Half the school’s scared of your sarcastic comebacks. That’s a skill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Right. Sarcasm queen—what a talent.”

“Hey, it’s better than lying in your Instagram bio,” he shot back, smirking again. “But seriously, if you want to learn to ice skate, I can ask Sunghoon to help. He’s a pro.”

Your face flushed. “No way. That’s way too embarrassing.”

Jungwon leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eye. “What, afraid he’ll fall for you when he sees how graceful you are on the ice?”

“Shut up, Jungwon!” you said, shoving his shoulder, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

“Fine, fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But for the record, you don’t have to be good at sports to be cool. And you definitely don’t need a fake bio to impress anyone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. “Thanks, Jungwon.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, popping another lolly into his mouth. “Just don’t expect me to stop teasing you anytime soon. That’s what friends are for.”

Friends? The word lingered in your mind, leaving a strange warmth in its wake. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so bad after all.

As the days went on, Jungwon started acting… differently. It wasn’t immediate, but you noticed. The sharp teasing comments he usually threw your way softened, replaced by subtle jokes that didn’t sting as much. He even started helping you with your math homework after class, though he made it clear it was only because he “couldn’t stand watching you struggle so much.”

You weren’t sure what to make of it. Was this some elaborate scheme to catch you off guard? Or had he genuinely decided to be nice? Either way, you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by how much time he suddenly spent around you.

It was late on a snowy Thursday afternoon when it happened. You were sitting on a bench outside the school, waiting for the bus. The air was crisp, your breath visible as you tucked your hands into your coat pockets. Jungwon appeared out of nowhere, plopping down next to you, his usual lolly in his mouth.

“Waiting for the bus again? You know, one day you’re going to freeze to death out here,” he said, nudging you with his elbow.

“Thanks for the concern,” you replied dryly, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You look tired.”

“Wow, such a compliment,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Long day, that’s all.”

“Bet you’re overthinking something again,” he said casually, leaning back on the bench.

You hesitated. “Maybe. You’re being weirdly nice lately, and I don’t know why. It’s kind of throwing me off.”

Jungwon glanced at you, his expression unreadable for once. “Weirdly nice? Wow, thanks. I didn’t realize I was such a villain before.”

“You kind of were,” you teased, though your voice was quieter this time. “But seriously. Why are you being… like this? Did you get bored of making fun of me or something?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re so dense sometimes, y/n.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, frowning.

He turned to face you fully, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something softer—something you couldn’t quite place. “It means… maybe I just like spending time with you. Maybe I like seeing that little smile you try to hide when you think I’m being funny. And maybe I realized I didn’t want you to think I only know how to annoy you.”

Your heart stuttered. For a second, you forgot how to breathe. “Jungwon… what are you saying?”

He sighed, his breath fogging up in the cold air. “I’m saying.. just, never mind—see you later y/n!” were the last thing he said before he left—your bus arriving at the same time.

t . . . b . . . c . . .

[arliedraws]

I've seen your posts about AI. I also know it's a pretty polarizing topic and what the majority opinion is, especially in regards to art and writing. And being an artist myself, I totally agree that it sucks, like you have to pay attention and all, but.... I hardly dare to say this because I know how emotional the discourse around AI is, especially on a platform like tumblr, which sometimes seems so strong that I don't participate in a discussion about this topic at all because I feel like people here would hound me for it, but I still use different AI software, but not in the way that I use it to create something that I can publish and pretend that I spent hours creating it myself. I think it can be really helpful.

If I need information about something quickly, it's more efficient than spending a lot of time searching different websites for a particular piece of information.

I also like to think of it as a group member when I'm working on projects. That doesn't mean that I get the ideas from it and then just copy them. In the same way that group work is beneficial, you pass the ball to each other with the AI and exchange ideas that you can then develop further. Or it can help you if you're looking for another word to describe something better, like a dictionary. And I still know how to use real dictionaries or do proper research, because I know that AI can make mistakes and you shouldn't believe everything. Just like it is with information from the internet in general. Anyway, now I come to the actual “confession”, which is that I also use it, not to let the AI create the art, but as a tool to help myself creating it. I usually use reference images for drawings to help me get the scene itself or the anatomy correct etc. Andy capture it properly. But sometimes I have a very specific scene in mind and can't find a suitable reference, and it can take me hours to find something that fits. So I like to use AI to create that reference for me, because unfortunately I don't have people modeling for me and personally it helps me extremely to have examples to work from.

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But since the general opinion on generative ai seems very clear here, I wanted to finally get this off my chest because I always kept my moth shut being afraid of how others might react, even though I think that my methods are still quite legitimate, as I still do the real work myself. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your opinion.

Ahhhh okay, well, thanks for the vulnerability here.

You know my opinion on AI. I’m not going to tell you you’re a terrible person or anything for using it, but I’m also not going to justify your personal decisions. Instead, I invite you to change your perspective.

My opinion is this—and it’s more of a question: why are you creating the art? I’m going to hit a few of your main points and just pose questions because I think this gets to be more philosophical than a cut-and-dry “if you use AI, you are a bad guy.” Because I don’t think that—I also don’t think you should use it.

The reason I don’t blame people for being attracted to using AI is because as human beings, we’re designed to find the most efficient way to do things. Thinking and using creativity is a huge caloric expenditure. Right? Naturally, we’re attracted to ways that things can be done FOR us and reduce our cognitive load. Your brain is working as it was designed! But this is also a really cool way to take away your voice and mold you into someone who cannot think for themself.

(This is also what you’re doing by “confessing” to me. You’re unloading your cognitive/emotional burden so you can keep on doing the thing you know is probably a bit shady.)

First of all, I don’t know you, so I don’t know what your art training is. However, you need to train your brain to start coming up with stuff on your own. I am really sorry, but I don’t buy the “I don’t have enough references.” When there are free resources like Unsplash.com and even just looking at buildings around you, the furniture in your house, etc, you DO have the references. But you need to learn how to use them. This is a tool.

Second thing, if the reference isn’t exactly what you need, then you need to start learning volume and shapes. You need to study anatomy. Eventually, you will be able to look at a reference and understand how perspective works and be able to transform a reference in your head to what you need. OR - start combining references. If I’m doing a full scene, I probably have about 5-6 reference photos I’m working from. This is a tool.

Third, start taking photos of yourself for reference images. If you can’t find what you need, do that. I periodically have to go into my camera roll to delete the god-awful reference poses for myself. This is a tool.

Fourth, start a collection of things that “strike you.” Start a reference blog. Have a folder filled with images that intrigue you. Personally, I take an insane number of photos when I’m traveling. For example, I went to a mansion for a tour and took photos of all the early 20th century objects and rooms so I would have these in my arsenal. This is a tool.

My fundamental question is this—why are you having an algorithm create what’s in your head for you? Why not learn how to do these things instead? Your imagination is so cool. The process of creating is making happy mistakes. What do you think Bob Ross would say to you? When you use AI, you’re just copying. The imaginative part has been done for you. You’re just a tool of the robot.

We do so much to avoid frustration, but frustration is the part of creating. When we can see the skills we need to learn, that’s how we know we’re improving. It means you’re trying, and when you press through that discomfort, that’s when you grow. Stop seeing this as a block to your end goal but as an opportunity to continue your infinite journey as an artist. Celebrate that there are so many beautiful things to learn.

Additionally, please don’t see AI as a group project. A group project indicates that all parties involved consent to participate, and I know most artists do not want their art to be used in this way. Imagine if you learned to do all the things I’ve described above and taken time/years/frustration/love to develop these skills, and someone years later then took your work and said “It’s okay - we ALL contributed to this.” It’s just not true.

The artists you see online don’t simply sit down and draw a bunch of cool stuff without practice. I watch Youtube videos of professionals. I draw a gazillion sketches of just MOUTHS or hands so I can create my own references in my mind. Why would you deprive yourself of this?

Look, I think it comes down to this: if you’re looking for efficiency and ‘getting it done’ quickly, then why are you doing it? Are you enjoying the process? If you aren’t, why are you even doing it?

If you need a robot to imagine something for you, then you don’t actually want to do it.

[hrtzstargirl]

My safe haven, my angel.

Danielle Marsh.

Synopsis: The world is a scary place, a lot of unfortunate things happen and deep feelings and sorrows, only she can make all those go away with just her mere presence. Simply put— She's your safe place.

Pairing: Danielle Marsh x Fem!reader

Warnings; Reader is kind of mentally unstable but she healed, slight blood, bad words! bad parents, run away, angst and fluff heheh

A/n: Had this dream last night and it's been on my mind ever since, I just can't, the dream felt so real, she's literally healing me from the pains I didn't even know I have😭SHE'S SO PRECIOUS PLEASE KEEP HER HAPPY. I actually finished this.... I'm not lazy tonight hellyah

-

In the world full of chaos and uncertainty, you found yourself navigating through life's relentless storm, at this point, you thought you're already used to it—after all those fights with your parents, getting in trouble many ways even though you tried not to, deep emotions you cannot explain to anyone—except Danielle.

Who is she, you may ask? She's someone you trust with all your life, someone who has been there thru your ups and downs, someone who never judges or discriminate your feelings, someone who you really love, wait what?

Anyway, she's simply sent by God as an apology for making you live with bad parents, I mean, extremely bad parents. You're nothing but a disgrace and disappointment to them, they never wanted you so why didn't they just slept that night instead of creating a baby they will never care for? A thought that always runs in your mind.

Fights always started with them throwing insults and you know, bad things to you even if you're not doing anything—just sitting there, doing homework, reading, painting or playing the piano, yikes. They hate mistakes on that piano; press one wrong key and you'll be hit by a stick.

Like what's happening right now, you're sitting there, playing the piano with your father behind you holding a long wooden stick, nervous eyes stares at the paper placed in front of you with shaky hands hovering above keys—hesitating to press anything with the fear of being hit again.

"Well? Go on, play." Your father's deep voice rang from behind you, he's getting pissed—you thought. Letting out a shaky breath as you press one of the keys, focusing on the notes, trying not to make anymore mistakes. A key after key after key.

It goes on and on until—a loud smack rang throughout the entire room, your eyes swelled up with tears after feeling that hard sting on the back of your hand, what was red earlier has now bled.

"Seriously, do you ever learn from your mistakes? It's the seventeenth time we've done this!" Closing your eyes as your ear starts to ring, seventeenth time... Always the same mistake every time.

"It's like you're doing this on purpose now! Do you like being hurt, huh?!"

"N-no, father."

"Do not stutter on me child. You're clearly doing it on purpose, trying to get beaten up to not play on stage, am I right?"

"No!" Cowering at the dark glare on your father's eyes, you look down in fear, staring at the blood dripping on the ground.

"You raised your voice at me?"

Shaking your head franticly, trying to say something to defend yourself—all attempts lead to nothing as your father gripped your hair from the back and threw you onto the ground, landing hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Disrespectful. I didn't not taught you to be like this!" Raising the wooden stick he's holding and starts hitting you with it, the sound is so painful and loud mixed with the cry of pain and mercy.

" I'm sorry, please!"

"You are no child of mine! You're a disgrace to this family!"

Your mother who has been sitting on the couch the entire time finally looked at you with a cold look in her eyes that says 'I regret giving birth to you.'

At this point, you've had enough. The bruises and wounds from the previous beating still hasn't healed and now there will be more. 'I can't live like this, I have to get out no matter what.' You thought,

Finally, you're fed up with their bullshits and constant beating that causes you to have serious health issues. 'It's for the better, it's what I have always wanted, it's what Danielle wanted me to do, it's for me and for her.'

Choking up a cry, you pushed your father away harshly that nearly causes him to fall down on to the floor, taking that chance to stand up abruptly yet shakily, you bolted out the living room—navigating your way through the entire mansion, you can hear his footsteps behind you, his voice filled with burning rage.

"Y/n! Come back here at once! I'm not done teaching you a lesson, you should learn the consequences of your mistakes!"

Ignoring his protests, you ran out the house, sprinting out aimlessly—just trying to get him off your tail. After a while, you can no longer hear his footsteps or his voice, calling you dirty names and cursing you for a life time.

Stopping a dark alley to avoid being seen by anyone because seeing a girl with bloody hands and beaten up body is not a sight one is wanting to see. Leaning against the wall for support as you pant heavily, tears still streaming down your face—only now you realized that you're still crying.

In the dark alley, the weight of the night's events bore down on you. Every breath was a struggle, your body ached with each sob that escaped your lips. A breathy laugh escaped from your lips, proud of yourself for finally leaving that hell you were forced to call home. Finally free from the monsters inside that constantly tormenting your existence.

As the realization of your escape began to sink in, you knew there was only one place you could go—Danielle. Feeling your pockets, hoping to find your phone with you, a sad smile appeared on your face as you feel the familiar rectangular device on your back pocket.

Reaching for your phone with trembling hands, you clicked the call button, your vision blurred by tears.

A few minutes of silent before her lovely voice is finally heard by your ears, you breath out a sigh of relief. Danielle, the angel she is immediately noticed something is wrong.

"Hey, what's wrong? It's almost midnight..."

Danielle, God, I love her. You didn't say anything at all, just listening to her with the sad smile on your face.

"Y/n? Is everything okay? What happened?"

"Dani... I need you." You cringed at the sound of your voice, raw and raspy. Clearly hinting off that you're crying.

"Y/n!? Wha- Where are you?"

"I don't know... I just, I ran anywhere, I'll just turn on my location and wait for you here."

"Stay right there. I'm coming to get you," Danielle's voice was filled with urgency and concern.

You activated your phone's location, sending it to Danielle. As you waited, the cold night air wrapped around you like a suffocating blanket. Your mind raced with a mix of relief and fear, relief that Danielle was coming to save you, and fear of what would happen next.

Minutes dragged on like hours until you finally saw Danielle's car pull up at the end of the alley. She rushed out, her face a mixture of worry and determination. Without a word, she enveloped you in a tight hug, her warmth and presence immediately making you feel safe.

The moment she pulled you in for a warm and tight embrace, it like everything vanished, the pain of your bruises, the memory of the past, the sadness you feel, all vanished.

"Oh honey, what happened to you?" Her voice laced with worry and sadness as she takes in your beaten up figure. Her warm hands cupping your wet cheeks as she stares into those dull eyes of yours.

'Honey'? That nickname again, she's making me feel things I shouldn't, why? Why is she like this... She's making this harder for me than it already is.

"Let's get you out of here," she whispered, helping you into the car. As she sat silently, she kept stealing glances at you, her brow furrowed with concern. Your head turned to the window, ignoring her glances at you, mostly ignoring the heat that rushes to your cheeks.

Her personal driver paid no mind to what's happening at the back, the only thing he ever wanted was to sleep but was interrupted by Danielle—the girl who can't drive.

Danielle had your arm around her waist, keeping it that way in a tight yet warm gripped, ensuring that you're close to her and won't be able to pull away.

Back at her house, Danielle led you inside and settled you on the couch. She hurried to get some warm towels and a first aid kit. Gently, she cleaned your wounds, her touch tender and caring.

"What happened? It's okay if you don't want to tell me, I just want to know why you look like this, calling me at nearly midnight for help. This is unusual thing for you to do."

As you leaned back on the couch as you let out a deep, shaky sigh, feeling the soothing touch of Danielle's hands tending to your wounds, you took a deep, shaky breath. Her gentle presence was like a balm to your shattered spirit, and for the first time in hours, you felt a flicker of safety and comfort.

"It's just... everything," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "The fights, the expectations, the constant fear. I can't take it anymore."

Danielle's eyes were filled with empathy as she listened, her fingers gently wrapping a bandage around your hand. "You've been through so much. You don't deserve any of this, Y/n. I'm so sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at her, the weight of your emotions finally spilling over. "They hate me so much, Danielle. No matter what I do, it's never enough. I feel so alone, so lost."

'I've had enough, the beatings and you know... After earlier I just snapped, I ran away."

Danielle pulled you into a warm embrace, her arms enveloping you in a cocoon of love and protection. "You're not alone," she whispered, her voice steady and reassuring. "You have me. I'll always be here for you, no matter what. And I'm proud of you for doing that, you left the place you've feared for so long, you had the courage to leave."

You clung to her, the tears flowing freely now as you let out all the pain and frustration you had been holding inside. Danielle's presence was your anchor, grounding you in the midst of your turmoil.

As the night wore on, you found yourself opening up to her about everything—your parents, the abuse, the unbearable pressure. Danielle listened without interruption, offering her unwavering support and understanding.

"I can't go back," you said finally, your voice hoarse from crying. "I can't live like that anymore."

Danielle nodded, her expression resolute. "You don't have to. You can stay here, with me. For as long as you need. This is your home now."

"What if they find me?"

"I won't let them take you away, you're with me now. Nothing can hurt you here."

Her words brought a sense of relief so profound that it took your breath away. For the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope, a possibility of a future where you could be safe and loved.

"Thank you, Danielle," you whispered, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection. "I don't know what I would do without you."

She smiled, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "You never have to find out. We'll get through this together."

The days that followed were a blur of healing and adjustment. Danielle made sure you were comfortable and well-cared for, creating a safe and nurturing environment where you could begin to rebuild your life.

Your bond with Danielle grew stronger with each passing day. Her love and support became the foundation upon which you started to find your footing again. One evening, as you both sat on the balcony, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky.

Watching them from her eyes is something you never thought you would do, it's amusing how everything seems to reflect in her eyes—making them sparkle more than it usually did, it's like love is very evident from them, it's something you feel yourself fall everytime.

Her smile can bright up even the darkest day, warm up the coldest night. It's a smile you would do anything to see, even a glimpse of it, you feel your day being complete.

It's the same smile that you fell for back in the day, the moment you first met, whenever you spent time together, the smile that was present when she stayed by your side that entire night.

Her laugh is a melody, a sound so beautiful it belongs to the heavens. Music is not needed if her laugh fills the air. Each note of her laughter is like a gentle ripple in the calmest of lakes, bringing joy and serenity to all who hear it. It’s a symphony of pure delight, capable of lighting up the darkest days and melting the hardest hearts.

When she laughs, it's as if the world pauses for a moment, captivated by the harmonious sound. Her laughter has a way of lifting spirits and spreading happiness, creating a sense of warmth and love that is simply irreplaceable.

Her beauty is captivating, an ethereal blend of grace and elegance that seems almost otherworldly. Each feature of hers is a masterpiece, sculpted with such precision and care that it leaves those who behold her in awe.

Beyond her physical beauty, there is an aura about her—a presence that exudes confidence, empathy, and kindness. Her voice is soothing, each word spoken with thought and care, like a gentle melody that resonates with the heart.

Her beauty is not just in her appearance but in her actions, her words, and the way she treats others with respect and love. She is the kind of person whose beauty grows deeper the more you get to know her, revealing layers of charm and grace that are truly timeless.

Noticing your silence and feeling your eyes on her, she looked at you with a soft smile, seeing the loving expression in your eyes. Her heart warmed, and she reached out to gently take your hand in hers.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and tenderness. "What's on your mind?"

The way she looked at you, with such genuine affection and understanding, made you feel a rush of emotions. It was as if she could see right into your soul, knowing exactly what you needed without you having to say a word.

"You." You say without a thought, it's the truth so you didn't utter any excuses and just stare at her lovingly.

She smiled, "Well, I love you too."

You froze, you look at her with furrowed eyebrows in confusion.Did she really say what you thought she did? Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process her words.

"What?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Danielle smiled softly, her eyes filled with warmth and love. "I know that look, that same look you gave me when we first met, the look you always have whenever you're with me. I know it and I love it. I love you."

Her words hit you like a wave, washing over you with a mix of surprise and joy. You could hardly believe what you were hearing, yet deep down, it felt right. It felt like everything was finally falling into place.

"You really mean that?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

"Every word," she replied, her smile growing. "I've felt this way for a long time. And seeing you look at me like that... it makes me feel so lucky to have you in my life."

Tears welled up in your eyes as the reality of her confession sank in. You had always loved Danielle, but hearing her say those words out loud made your heart swell with happiness.

Realizing that you won't do anything, she builds up the courage to cup your cheeks lovingly, her warm hands holding your cold cheeks gently.

She leans closer, her eyes locked onto yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating from her. Every inch closer makes your heart race even more, anticipation and love mingling in the air around you.

As her face inches closer to yours, you can feel her breath against your skin. Time seems to slow down, every second stretching into an eternity filled with the unspoken words and emotions between you.

Finally, her lips gently brush against yours, a tender, sweet kiss that holds all the love and affection she has for you. It's soft and hesitant at first, but as you respond, the kiss deepens, conveying the feelings you both have held inside for so long.

When she pulls back, her eyes are shining with emotion, her smile as radiant as ever. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," she whispers, her voice filled with love and relief.

You smile back, your heart swelling with happiness. "Me too, Danielle. Me too."

In that moment, everything feels right. Despite the chaos and uncertainty of the world, you know that as long as you have each other, you'll be okay. Together, you can face anything, for she is your safe place, your home.

[beneathsilverstars]

You've established that Odile has rather unhinged taste in people. Do you have further headcanons on that topic?

Hm... Most of the adjacent headcanons that I could talk about here would require a lot of psychological and cultural context. So let's just talk about that context!

As a child, Odile was disconnected from her peers due to heritage, temperament, and latent transgenderism. As lonely children sometimes do, she decided that she didn't need or want friends anyway, and even if she did, it wouldn't be any of these losers! They were always wasting their time on fun and social useless things that she was too weird smart and special to be invited want to do. She studied very hard and excelled in school, did a couple extracurriculars that didn't require much teamwork, and at some point during adolescence realized that unfortunately the Vaugardians were correct about the changing genders thing.

Ka Buan philosophy encourages people to understand themselves, refine themselves, explore different facets of themselves — but not change themselves, because fundamental characteristics simply cannot be changed. Accordingly, gender-noncomforming fashion and binding/padding and nicknames are fine, hormones and surgery/bodycraft and declaring yourself a different gender are not. But Odile wasn't one to let social mores stop her, so once she reached adulthood, she left her hometown and showed up at the city as Odile. And not just any city, but one with a reputation for cutting-edge craft research and certain countercultures.

You can't just show up and ask around for where the illegal bodycrafting is, though. You have to meet people, win their trust, let them introduce you to other people, repeat. Odile... honestly wasn't that great at it. She hadn't had much cause to practice social skills, so she wasn't very friendly or persuasive! But she was determined, thorough, confident, passionate, genuine in her intentions, and newly hot — and you can get away with a certain amount of blunt arrogance when you're hot. You just have to let people assume you're too cool and busy for humble niceties, which Odile did quite easily, because she's always thought of herself as such. So she found her way through the right queer punk circles eventually and completed her physical transition!

And she liked those circles. The people she met and the topics they discussed and the things they did were all so much more interesting than she had assumed any peers of hers could be! But she still considered herself more competent and correct than anyone else around her, because why would that change just because she moved? Her success in transitioning just further proved that she could do anything if she tried hard enough, that she was right all along in assuming her social failures were due not to lack of skill but last of interest. So she ended up in this dynamic where she was impressed by the people around her and wanted to have fun with them and learn more about them, but also thought herself better than them and above such things as kindness or friendship.

And she was in that "holy shit I'm surrounded by dykes and I'm a dyke now too" stage that some queer people experience after they come out.

So, she wasn't interested in boring. She wasn't interested in nice. She wasn't interested in regular people with regular concerns, like the peers who excluded her in her youth. She wasn't interested in romance or committed relationships or being emotionally vulnerable.

And, she wasn't put off by annoyance, because people annoyed her as a whole anyway. She wasn't put off by danger, because she was sure she could handle anything. She wasn't put off by clashing personalities, because it wasn't like she was planning to go on long walks on the beach with any of her partners anyway.

Thus, she found herself drawn to the most exciting people in the room. Interpersonal drama, emotional outbursts, poorly-thought-out-choices, intense obsession, risky hobbies... it was all oh-so thrilling! Of course, she did realize that the people she was attracted to had major, glaring flaws. But Odile was determined, thorough, confident, passionate, genuine in her intentions, and newly hot. If she couldn't fix them, who could?

We know from Odile's optional sidequest that when she sees something suspicious, she dedicates herself to solving the mystery. We know from her presence at Mirabelle's side that when she sees a problem, she steps in to help, because if you want something done right you do it yourself. The one major exception? The topic that has her backing down, giving up, confessing incompetence?

Emotions.

She has long since learned that she is not actually very good at fixing those.

[suzukiblu]

Day fifteen of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon grins wider, then holds his cup out to him. Specifically, he tilts it so Tim can take a sip instead of just giving it to him. 

Bastard. Bastard-coated bastard with bastard-flavored nougat-y filling and a bastardly ganache coating and bastard sprinkles on top. 

Bastard. 

Tim thinks several more accusing things, then leans over and tries the smoothie. It does taste pretty good, though it’s a little too sweet for him to want to drink the whole cup. Blackberry is definitely more his thing. 

“Not bad,” he says anyway, because it’s not and also goddammit, Kon is still grinning at him. Because again: bastard. Absolute full and complete and entire bastard. 

“Yeah, for the East Coast, at least,” Kon replies with an easy shrug, reclaiming his cup for another sip. Tim does not think about indirect kissing or anything that ridiculously juvenile and middle-school. Not at all. Not even slightly, in fact. “I dunno, the whole thing just reminds me, um . . . like, I didn’t really do the whole ‘childhood’ thing, obviously, but you know that thing where people talk about extra-liking stuff they used to eat when they were kids? Tropical flavors kinda make me feel like that. Comfort food or whatever. I mean, it’s not Loco Moco or musubi, obviously, but . . .” 

Tim blinks, makes a few mental notes, and wonders if there’s a single actually authentic Hawaiian restaurant in Gotham. Maybe? There’s got to be at least a decent food truck or two around, if nothing else. There’s always a food truck. 

He could probably bribe one to come into the city for a day or two, if it comes to it. 

“That makes sense,” he says, since technically Kon’s childhood pretty much was in Hawaii. He refuses to count the stupid fucking cloning tube, because counting the stupid fucking cloning tube is literally too depressing a thought to even contemplate. Fuck the stupid fucking cloning tube. Fuck it sideways. 

Maybe Tim can just bribe a Hawaiian food truck to set up in Kon’s future cul-de-sac once a week or something, once he's conned him into moving into it. Just include it in their usual schedule or something, he doesn’t know. Or at least drop off a regular lunch order for him, maybe. 

Whatever, he’ll work something out. He’s going to be working a lot of things out, at this point; hooking Kon up with a regular supply of his childhood comfort foods is not even an imposition. He doesn’t even know what either Loco Moco or musubi is, but he’ll put them on the list and do his damn research. He'll go to Hawaii and hire a personal chef straight from the source if he has to, at this point. 

“Can I try yours?” Kon asks, grin going sly again. Tim’s head immediately empties out all over again, and he mutely holds his cup out. Kon’s grin widens. 

He leans in and ducks his head and Tim has to deal with how long his eyelashes are and just how pretty his stupid face is and, worse, how pretty his stupid mouth is. 

Fuck’s sake, this is just not fair at all. He knows Kon’s a flirt, obviously, but does he have to actually be good at it? Because Tim is not used to him being good at it, actually! Usually he’s being overbearing and too-eager and weird about it, in fact! 

Tim has the unfortunate thought that maybe Kon always flirts like this and he’s just not seeing it as overbearing or too-eager or weird because it’s focused on him for once, then immediately dismisses said thought as a thought he absolutely cannot allow himself to ever have again. Just–ever. Not for anything. 

Jesus, what is his fucking life right now? 

Kon leans back; licks his lips. Tim dies, kind of. Like, just a little bit. 

Alright, maybe more than a little bit. 

“I like it,” Kon says, grinning at him. Tim tries not to think about how intimately he now knows how Kon’s mouth would taste right now, sharply sweet-sour with blackberry and tropical fruit and all warm and soft and wet and–never mind.

“Want a pretzel too?” he offers in a hopefully normal voice, tipping his head towards the stand. 

“Sure,” Kon says, glancing towards it. “Sounds good, man.” 

“Cool,” Tim says, incredibly awkwardly, and they head over. He orders a regular pretzel because he doesn't know Caroline Hill's pretzel order anymore than he knows her smoothie order, but “regular” isn't going to be interesting enough for Kon to make a note of either way. Possibly he should just be ordering things Tim Drake would, but the flaw in that plan is that Tim Drake isn't thinking very clearly right now and it is currently much, much easier to be in mission-mode than anything else. 

Kon orders a cinnamon-sugar pretzel. Tim wishes the bastard would stop eating things that taste good, but also recognizes that it’s his fault that the bastard's been eating things that taste good. He’s literally the one both suggesting and buying said things for him. 

So Kon’s mouth is about to taste like cinnamon sugar right now because of Tim, which is actually making the fact that Kon’s mouth is about to taste like cinnamon sugar right now infinitely worse. 

Tim pays. They get the pretzels. Kon immediately tears off a bite of his and Tim wishes he had a cover identity that didn't like cinnamon, or at least was allergic to it or diabetic or gluten-intolerant or something. He could use a cover identity like that to fall back on right now. 

“Wanna bite?” Kon offers. 

“I'm good,” Tim says, because he will literally die if he takes him up on that offer right now. Or possibly go criminally insane like fifteen years ahead of schedule, which would be its own problem. He doesn't have enough kryptonite for that yet. “You like it?” 

He doesn’t know why he asked that. Apparently he’s just a glutton for punishment. 

“Yeah,” Kon says, licking sugar off his lips. “It’s good.” 

“Good,” Tim says, then desperately flails for a subject that doesn’t involve the way anything currently in Kon’s mouth tastes. “Do you have a personal phone or just a work one?” 

“Just work, technically. And then, like, I get issued communicators when I need them,” Kon replies, looking puzzled. “Why?” 

Because Cadmus could very easily track and tap and block whatever numbers they wanted on that, Tim doesn’t say. 

“I’m trying to get your number and I don’t want to call you on your work phone,” he says. “That seems weird.” 

“You a little on the shy side, pretty boy?” Kon asks teasingly, flashing him a smirk. Tim does not examine anything about that statement or his own feelings about it. He also does not think about what Kon’s mouth tastes like, though Kon makes that incredibly difficult by immediately taking another bite of pretzel. 

Has Tim mentioned what a bastard he is yet? Because he is a bastard.

“I’m buying you a phone,” he says, deciding if he just acts like it’s a foregone conclusion and some small little thing, Kon’s likelier to not reject the offer. “I cannot mentally deal with the idea of your boss seeing what I text you about on some random weekly report.” 

“You can’t, huh,” Kon says, biting his lip around a grin and shifting in a little bit closer. “Why, Tim? What are you gonna text me about?” 

Tim realizes how that might’ve sounded much too late, but by then it’s too late to rephrase or backtrack, so fuck it: time to commit. 

“Depends on what you text back, I guess,” he says. Kon laughs, then grins at him again. His face is a little red again too. Tim is resigned to having to survive the experience. 

“Well, I guess you’d have my number if you got me a phone, huh,” Kon says. 

“I would, yes,” Tim says. He’s going to have to resist asking Kon to turn on “find my phone”, probably. Or adding any trackers or bugs to it. It’s the Bat instinct, but it’d probably creep Kon out if he caught a “civilian” doing anything like that. And also definitely concern him, what with the “supervillain creep” concerns he was already having. And Tim would have a really hard time paying for Kon’s entire life if Kon decided he was a supervillain before he’s even become a supervillain, so he’d prefer to avoid that outcome. 

He guesses Caroline Hill could give it a shot if Tim Drake can’t pull it off, though. She’d still probably have better chances than him anyway, given Kon’s usual taste in people. 

They eat their pretzels on the way to the electronics store and Tim tries to plot how to convince Kon to let him get him the best possible phone but is incredibly, incredibly distracted by watching him lick cinnamon sugar off his fingers. Tim actually hasn’t seen Kon with his gloves off too many times, come to think of it. Or possibly, like . . . ever. Like, he might’ve actually never seen him with his gloves off before. 

Alright, well, that’s a thing that he hadn’t yet realized and is now going to be completely normal about. 

Definitely normal. Very, very normal. So normal. 

They toss out their empty pretzel wrappers outside the store and Kon licks a little more sugar off the pad of his thumb. Tim wonders if he has any callouses. Probably not, considering the TTK, but who knows. Maybe he trains with it down? Or maybe TTK just doesn’t protect his skin quite that thoroughly. Tim’s never actually seen him get cut or scratched or even bruised, though, so . . . maybe? 

He really has no idea, at this point. 

He supposes he could ask. Tim Drake’s already said he knew about tactile telekinesis and that he did some research, so . . . 

“Does TTK protect you from callouses?” he asks, gesturing at Kon’s hands with his smoothie and a little too curious to repress the question. Kon tilts his head and smirks at him again. 

“You tell me,” he says, then casually reaches over and catches Tim’s free hand in his own. 

Tim had thoughts in his head at some point today, he’s pretty sure, but hell if he knows what any of them were.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

If the Sun Starts Setting

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: Swearing, family drama, characters celebrating Christmas, mom with terminal illness, crying mentions

a/n: Sorry to post this so late everyone! I have had the WORST brain fog today. I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs fuel me!

After just one semester of law school, the drive between suburban Connecticut and the Columbia campus was one you were becoming well-acquainted with. It wasn’t unbearably long, nor flooded with traffic on a dark Sunday evening. Headlights of oncoming vehicles painted swatches of light against the navy sky, a semi-urban work of art unlike anything you’d enjoyed before. Usually, it was a sight you took the time to admire. However, this particular evening you were unable to focus on anything but the tinny voice bubbling out of your phone’s speaker. 

Gritting your teeth and rolling your eyes to the heavens, you cursed the universe for a moment, tuning out the man on the other end of the line while you did so.

The sharp call of your name across the speakers regained your attention. ”Are you listening to me?“

Your father's inflection was grating on the best days. After three weeks spent waiting on him and your two ungrateful siblings while they preached about the importance of family during the holidays, you were ready to scream with every word he spat at you. The two hour drive back to campus was supposed to be the growing light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, you'd spent the last third of it arguing with your father about healthcare charges.

”Yes, I'm listening.“ ‘Unlike some of us’, you thought to yourself. ”As I said, that charge was for her brief hospital stay over Thanksgiving. I've already paid it and it might take a week or two to reflect—“

”This is a debt collection notice, hun. That means they didn't receive the payment yet. Which means they'll be coming after me when your mom inevitably cannot pay.“

Contemplating banging your head against your steering wheel just to remove the memory of this conversation, a flash of movement across the parking lot caught your eye. Expression softening, you almost sobbed in relief when you caught the two beaming expressions of your friends waving from the exterior door. Unfortunately, your father wasn't quite done arguing with you.

”Dad, I understand you don't want to be on the hook for this—“ ‘Not like you would be anyway.’

”I most certainly do not.“ He interrupted. Once again ignoring his rambling, you snatched your backpack and exited your car, slamming the door with a bit more force than usual.

”Dad, just forget about it, ok? I'll deal with it, just—“

”Well, clearly you won't deal with it in a timely fashion, which is why I'm calling...“ ‘Was he trying to kill you? It sure felt like it.’

”Ok, well I just got back to school so I need to go now.“ You tried to nudge him into polite farewells as you practically sprinted across the pavement towards your friends. As expected, he didn't take kindly to being rushed off the phone.

”Of course you do,“ He laughed incredulously. ”You know, this is your mother's livelihood we are discussing. It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more compassionate.“ ‘You're one to talk asshole.’

”You're right. I'll try to work on that this semester,“ You remarked drily. ”Gonna go inside now. Bye.“

Not bothering to listen to the screaming that answered your callous goodbye, you hung up, breaking into a strained smile as you greeted your boys. ”Why hello there, strangers.“

As if he didn't just witness you walk literally and figuratively closer to a breakdown, Foggy squealed, nearly taking you to the pavement in a tackling hug. “Welcome back, bug!”

“Christ, Fog, you're gonna crush her.” Matt laughed, hearing you grunt as you fumbled to stay upright with Foggy coiled around you like a boa constrictor.

“I missed you too, Fog.” You murmured, tears welling in your eyes at the sensation of being embraced.

You had missed them. Deeply and almost pathetically. After an entire semester at each other's sides, the few weeks in your hometown for Christmas had felt like an eternity.

After Matt and Foggy had been struck with the campus flu, the rest of the semester passed in a whirlwind. The two clingy boys had unsurprisingly infected you, meaning you were unfortunately sick for Thanksgiving and had to remain on campus to avoid passing the virus on to your immunosuppressed mother. Matt had been incredibly apologetic, and plagued with his typical Catholic guilt, so he'd stayed with you while Foggy returned to Hell's Kitchen for Turkey Day.

The next few weeks were spent cramming for finals and, eventually, celebrating the end of your first semester at Columbia—which you had all, amazingly, passed. Leaving for the lengthier winter break had been an abrupt end to the joy you felt over your grades, however.

You returned to New Haven a day earlier than expected to sit in the local hospital's oncology ward with your mother. While you were ill over Thanksgiving, she'd had a recurrence of stage 3 pancreatic cancer, which meant more frequent trips to see her doctor as well as numerous bills that neither of you could afford. Because of her declining health, your father and siblings had come to Connecticut for Christmas. The extra company meant that your holidays–which were meant to be a time for recuperation following a strenuous first semester–had been frustrating to the point of tears. Which, embarrassingly enough, Matt had been burdened with when you called him to complain.

The two of you called multiple times a week, exchanging stories and annoyances just like you did when you were living within a few blocks from each other. But it didn't stop you from missing him and Foggy fiercely for 24 excruciating days.

Swallowing a lump of pent up emotion, you huffed out a shaky exhale, your breath clouding in the frigid winter air. “Ok, Fog. You know I love you, but it's cold as fuck out here.”

“Right! Sorry.” Foggy withdrew from the embrace, blushing furiously as he scratched at the back of his neck.

Immediately replacing Foggy in front of you, Matt took a chance to hug you quickly before pulling you inside. “Glad you're finally here, I thought Nelson here was going to combust.”

Letting Matt usher you inside, you heard Foggy's baffled scoff. “Do I look like a patient man to you, Murdock?”

Matt smirked, “How would I know?”

You and Foggy both groaned loudly, looking to each other for support as Matt cackled. “C'mon, you set that one up perfectly. What's a guy to do?”

“You should've heard him over break, bug. He was driving my poor mother towards a stroke, I swear.” Foggy shook his head in feigned irritation.

“Oh please, she loved me.” Matt shoved his roommate, nearly bowling the three of you down the staircase as you trudged toward their room.

“I bet she did.” You snorted, “You probably dialed the charm up to 11.”

“Try 15.” Foggy remarked, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

Ignoring the jab, Matt held out a hand for your bag, allowing you to slip out of your coat and shoes.

“Who were you on the phone with?” His question was meant to open the can of worms in a structured way, rather than answer his own burning question. He’d bet dollars to donuts that it was–

“My father.” Came your fatigued response, confirming his suspicions. Your words were tinged with a bitterness that he’d expected, but they held a deeper upset thinly veiled by your exhaustion.  

“Is everything ok?” Foggy asked quietly, his brow pinching with worry as he studied the bags under your eyes. The blond was less informed on the hell you’d been put through over the last month or so, only picking up bits and pieces if Matt relayed them.

With a groan, you collapsed unceremoniously onto Matt’s bed beside him, leaning heavily into him as one of his arms fell across your shoulders. “Of course, it’s just…it wasn’t the pleasant send off I was hoping for.”

Your pulse jumped when you spoke, steadying out as you reached the end of your sentence. Matt already knew that things weren’t “ok” with your mom or your home life in general, but he blinked in surprise to hear the disappointment that coated your words as you referenced your father’s curt goodbye. Making a note to bring that up when you seemed more inclined to be vulnerable, he rubbed a palm over your arm in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish it had been better.”

Huffing a tiny laugh, you let your head fall against his shoulder. “Me too. How were your holidays?”

“Pleasant.” Matt murmured at the same time Foggy clapped his hands together.

“Fantastic! I forced Matt to watch all of the Star Wars movies with me and we ate our weight in cookies.” The long-haired boy explained with genuine enthusiasm. As he began to recount the escapades from the annual Nelson holiday party, your eyes flicked upwards to look at Matt, whose arm was still moving slowly across your shoulder and back as he caressed your sleeve. His eyes were trained forward, but a muscle in his jaw twitched as you focused on him, so you had a sneaking suspicion that neither of you were listening to Foggy’s story. You’d forgotten how well he could read you, until he gave you the option to pretend everything was fine with your dad.

He knew it wasn’t, and you did too. And maybe shoving that shit deep down and pretending it didn’t exist wasn’t a healthy way of handling it, but if you met Foggy’s worried gaze right now it would make you cry, which you were not prepared for. So, whether it was a wonderful coincidence or Matt could truly read you like a picture book, you were thankful for his deflection.

Smiling softly, you looked back to Foggy, listening to him talk about his drunk aunts fawning over Matt and feeling the thick tension bleed out of your shoulders.

Eventually, Foggy took a deep breath, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Woah, head rush!”

Matt chuckled, “You didn’t even stand up, buddy. You ok over there?”

“Yah, I’m fine! Just excited!” Foggy waved a hand, unfazed.

“And I can’t wait to hear about everything, Fog. But maybe we should take a break for presents?”

“Presents?” Foggy’s eyes widened along with his grin, his behavior as animated as a child’s at the mention of gifts. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

You laughed, prying yourself out of Matt’s secure grip and opening your bag. Tossing two wrapped bundles across the room and onto Foggy’s bed, you set the other two in Matt’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, my lovely Musketeers!” You giggled as Foggy mime-fenced toward you. As soon as the blond was finished beating you in the imaginary sword fight, he eagerly tore into the glittery wrapping paper. Next to you, Matt looked much more apprehensive about the packages in his lap.

“Go on, Matty. Open them!” You encouraged, bumping his shoulder with your own.

“But we don’t have anything for you,” Matt’s lips curled into a pout, looking like a sulking kitten as he trailed a single finger along the crisp edge of the parcel nearest to his hand.

You rolled your eyes fondly. The poor kid had a strong enough sense of justice for the whole campus. ”Matty, we're in college. And I'm the only one with a job. I didn't expect you to get me anything.“

”But—“ Matt argued, but you cut him off with a laugh.

”No more buts! I got these presents for you because I wanted to, not because I thought I’d receive something in return. Please open them?“ Though he couldn't see your face, you batted your lashes and widened your eyes, hoping he could sense the pleading expression.

With a frown, he nodded once, carefully peeling the tape from the paper as if the task required surgical precision. Grinding his teeth as the paper crinkled raucously, he slid the first gift out of its casing carefully, as if he was expecting it to shock him if he moved too quickly. Withdrawing a lump of the softest material he'd ever felt, he ran a thumb over it, trying to decipher what it was. The strip of wool was composed of thick braided stitches, promising to retain warmth in even the most bitter winter weather.

”A scarf?“ He asked, his lips pursed into a small, surprised oval. A rosy blush dusted the tops of his cheeks.

”Yes! I made one for you and one for Foggy. Except yours is a deep red and his is orange.” You spoke softly, smiling over to where the longer-haired boy was wrapping the length of yarn around his neck triumphantly.

“Our favorite colors.” Matt murmured, his fingers still tracing the fuzzy stitching. “You remembered?“

”Of course I did, trouble. That's important information. I'd be a fool to let it slip through the cracks.“ You hoped the joke would make him laugh, but he continued to stare blankly at the scarf as if it was an animal that had just died in his arms. ”If you don't like it, I can take it back, and donate it or something–“

”No!“ Matt looked up, horrified, clutching the scarf to his chest. ”No, I love it. I just...“

Turning his face back to his lap, he licked his lips before continuing. ”I've never gotten something like this before. I don't know what to say, is all.“

”No need to say anything, bub. I'm glad you like it.“ You rubbed your palm over his arm, mirroring his actions from just a moment ago.

Still focused on his own gifts, Foggy's excited screech startled both you and Matt. ”NO WAY!“

Turning to you with a dropped jaw, Foggy shook his head. ”There is no way you got this.“

”What is it, buddy?“ Matt asked, his lips curled into a soft smile as he heard Foggy open a hardcover book eagerly.

”A first edition of The Fellowship of the Ring!“ Foggy was practically giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he rifled through the pages. ”How did you even get this?“

Grinning at him, you giggled. ”My mom has a friend with an extensive book collection and asked where we could find one. Turns out, the friend had one of her own and was willing to part with it for next to nothing. Guess she owed my mom a favor.”

Diving across the room to crush you in another hug, Foggy kissed the top of your head. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!”

Laughing brightly, you struggled to shove your friend off of you. When he was this worked up, Foggy had the tenacity of an overexcited golden retriever. As usual, Matt helped release you from his clutches. ”You're welcome, Fog. I wanted to get you a nice copy since you lost the one you brought to school.”

“I'd say you accomplished that, my lovely jitterbug.” Foggy ruffled your hair, retreating to his bed and launching himself onto the mattress–the rusted springs creaking in protest.

Giggling at him, you turned back to Matt. “Alright, Murdock. Your turn, again. After this, I promise never to put you through this torture again. Until next year.”

Matt groaned in response, snatching the second gift with more vigor. “Let's get this over with.”

Approaching the gift with the same systematic tactic as the first, he slid the paper off of the box without a single tear. Setting the wrapping aside, he opened the cardboard package and pulled out his real gift.

“Ok so, I'm not sure how helpful these will be,” You warned, fidgeting with your hands as he ran his fingers along the band connecting the ear pieces. “But, they're, um, noise-canceling headphones?”

Matt's breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed with guilt and affection and surprise at the present, all words of gratitude pulled back down to his vocal chords as he focused solely on not bursting into tears.

Over the past few weeks, the Nelsons had been kind enough to invite him to stay and celebrate with them. He was flattered, and so thankful, but he wasn't used to so many...people. During a few of your phone calls over the break, he'd mentioned that the excessive stimuli, mainly noise, had been getting to him and giving him headaches. And rather than chastising him for being ungrateful, you'd listened and sympathized with him over the phone, ultimately buying him a solution to the issue with your own money.

Sure, there was no guarantee that these would work for his heightened senses, but you didn't know that. And the idea that you were willing to go to such immense lengths to ensure his comfort...it was evidence of a love he hadn't experienced in a decade.

“Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?” Your worried murmur broke his train of thought.

“No,” He choked out. ”No, they're perfect. So is the scarf. Thank you, bug.“

”Of course. Merry Christmas, Matt.“ You kissed his cheek gently and he felt a flush crawling up his neck. Wrapping an arm around you, he tucked you close to his chest, hand cradling the back of your neck.

”Merry Christmas, sweetheart.“

The two of you sat there in silence, holding each other close for a minute before your phone rang. Sighing deeply, you rested your head against Matt's shoulder as you fumbled for your phone. Thankfully, the screen displayed your mom's contact information, not your father.

“Sorry, trouble. I have to take this.“ You squeezed his arm, pulling out of his embrace and stretching as you stood. ”I'll be right back. Hopefully.“

Smiling at your near-groan, Matt jerked his chin towards the door. ”We'll be here.“

Slipping into the hallway, you lowered your voice. ”Hey mama, everything ok?“

”Hey baby, everything's fine, just had a couple questions for you about bills.“ Her sweet voice was strained and you could practically see her flicking her gaze to meet your father's, his metaphorical gun to her head as she made the call.

”Ok,“ You ground out, trying not to snap at her when she wasn't the reason you were frustrated. ”Um, what questions did you have?”

“You did pay the one from November?” She asked, predictably.

“I did. It'll reflect soon and Dad has nothing to worry about. The bill is attached to our names, not his. That's why Collections isn't writing to him.“ You explained as calmly as you could, knowing that she was aware of this already, but probably had you on speakerphone. ”Was that all?“

”Not exactly.“ Her tone shifted, pitching lower and sounding almost embarrassed. A crackle rippled over the line and suddenly your father's gruff voice replaced the one you adored.

“You need to come home next weekend to help your mom with the next round of billing. I've run out of time off and can no longer assist.” He commanded, the ‘compassion’ he held for her livelihood nowhere to be found.

‘Oh because you were so helpful this month when you were ordering us around.’  You griped internally. “What round of billing? The one from Thanksgiving–”

“Was four appointments ago. These things aren't free, you know. They’re wanting us to pay for them.”

Both you and your bank account were intimately familiar with the steep cost of her treatment. Inhaling deeply, you paced a few steps from Matt and Foggy's room. “I know they aren't free. We signed her up for a payment plan two weeks ago that offers a deferral–”

“She was denied.” His laconic answer made your spirits plummet as time came to a halt. Your pounding heart froze in place, dread creeping up your spine. 

“What?” On the off chance that he was being unintentionally misleading, you needed to clarify.

Your mother's apologetic voice came over the line once again. ”I wasn't accepted into the financial assistance program, baby. But, it's ok! I can pick up more shifts–“

”No!” You exclaimed, the shrill edge of your cry echoing down the hallway. You tried again, digging your nails into the flesh of your palm as you fought to keep your voice steady.

“Don't...you don't need to do that mama. I don't want you to overwork yourself. I'll come home on Friday and we can talk about options, ok?“ You bargained, running through your work schedule in your head to create a plan.

”Are you sure, honey? Won't you be busy getting a head start on the semester?“ 

Blinking back tears at her obvious care for you, you cleared your throat before answering. “It’s alright, mama. It’s just syllabus week, I’m sure I’ll have time to come home and sort things out.”

“She’ll make time.” Your father’s promise was more for your mom than you, but it felt like a swift kick to the gut all the same. 

Because you would make time. You had to. No one else would. You were your mom’s last line of defense. Prioritizing yourself and failing to be there for her wasn’t an option you had. The emotional burden you were carrying felt impossibly heavy, as if there was a line of anvils across your shoulders and chest, slowly forcing the oxygen out of your lungs until you perished. 

“Of course I will. I’ll see you this weekend, mama. Love you.” You choked out, slapping a palm over your mouth before you broke. 

“I love you too, baby. Have a good week at school!” You could picture her tired smile as she wished you a proper goodbye, the image cracking your composure. 

You hung up before the first tear rolled down your cheek. Dropping your face into your hands, you bit your lip to stifle a sob, letting the tears flow silently instead. Falling back against the wall behind you, you let your legs give out as you collapsed to the disgusting dorm hallway carpet. 

The blood rushing in your ears drowned out the noises drifting through the thin walls, an urge to scream churned in your chest. Ugly, rage filled sobs were barreling up your throat, desperately trying to claw their way out, to make your pain known. Hunching over your knees in a pitiful crouch, you shielded your face with your arms, preventing any passersby from seeing your much-needed meltdown. 

Choking out a breath around another half-smothered sob, you nearly screamed when a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up frantically, the outburst downgraded to a strangled whine when you saw Matt’s furrowed brow directed at you. 

Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, opening his arms with a frown. Throwing yourself into his embrace, you couldn’t help the hideous sounds that escaped you as he enveloped you in his muscular arms with ease. Tucking your head under his chin, you shook violently against his chest as you bawled. 

“I can’t do this, Matt. I can’t–” You gasped out, your breath stuttering as you wept forcefully into his shoulder. 

Shushing you gently, he rubbed circles into your back with his large hand.

Whimpering at the touch, you wiped at your tear-streaked face furiously. “”I’m barely an adult. How am I supposed to do this?” Your voice shattered around the words, throat constricting with anguish.

“I don’t know,” Matt cooed, stroking a fresh pair of tears away from your skin with his thumbs. “But I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’ll get through it together.” 

Burying your face into his neck miserably, you shuddered with distaste. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask.” He whispered gravely, pressing a kiss to your crown. 

With that promise, your brain seemed to shut off. Your tears gradually slowed to a halt, leaving you dazed and exhausted in Matt’s lap. Heaving out a shaky exhale, you closed your eyes, letting his soft touches wash over you like the tides. Kissing your forehead tenderly, Matt cupped your cheek. 

“Why don’t we go sit somewhere softer than this shitty floor, hmm?” His small question was meant to make you laugh, but your fatigue had chased away every other emotion. 

Nodding softly, you let Matt pull you from the ground and back into his room, welcoming the darkness after the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Sliding off his glasses and placing them on his nightstand, he guided you to Foggy’s bed. The blond frowned at you, setting his book aside. 

“You ok, bug?” He asked, sitting up to inspect your puffy eyes.

Shaking your head tiredly, you crawled onto his mattress and let him wrap you in a hug. Matt, with an impressive amount of agility, somehow leapt onto the bed behind you, snaking his arms around your middle so that you were sandwiched between him and his roommate. You listened to their steady breathing, letting the sound lull you into a more peaceful state of mind. 

Tangling his fingers with yours, Matt’s lips scratched over the back of your head. “Fog, think you could read some of your book for us?”

“Uh, yah totally.” Foggy pouted, gaze still lingering on your drained face. “Let me just find my page.”

The combination of your worn-out consciousness and the comforting presence of your two best friends was dangerous. Your eyes fluttered shut and you could feel yourself drifting off. 

As if reading your thoughts, Matt kissed your hair. “Go on, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Squeezing his fingers, you stopped fighting the darkness pulling at the edges of your vision, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind

Please tell me if these tags aren't working for you all because Tumblr has been acting up :/

[princess-glassred]

I have a really sweet au idea: Au where Bev and Eddie had kids with Tom and Myra, but after the divorce they were both left kind of broke and alone, so they move into an apartment together and kind of help each other raise their kids as platonic besties.

They each have one child, Eddie has a thirteen year old daughter named Sophia and Bev has a twelve year old son named Jack (i named them after Eddie and Bevs actors Jack Dylan Grazer and Sophia Lillis). It's important to note that neither Eddie nor Bev wanted kids, but now that their kids are here they are very dead set on trying to be the best parents they can. Unfortunately this takes place when they gang are a little bit younger and thus haven't become as super successful as they later will be, Eddie is still working a rather low end finance job (nothing as well paying as the risk analyst position) while Bev is working essentially as a designer for some fashion house, but not designing her own stuff yet. Tom and Myra both got the best lawyers because Tom is a vindictive asshole and Myra is a Karen, so poor Eddie and Bev are in a tough spot financially. Their apartment is pretty dismal, i mean they try to make it nice, but their bathroom/kitchen gets broken a lot and their fridge sometimes opens on its own, and since it's a two bedroom Jack and Sophia have to share a bedroom while Eddie and Bev share the other.

Ben and Richie sometimes come over to help them, Ben is head over heels for Beverly, he literally doesn't give a single fuck that she's a single mom, he loves her to bits and would do just about anything to help her out. He's kind of just some fuckin guy that comes over to the apartment sometimes but he's loaded and quite handy, so he's always helping them out. If they need grocery money, or money for a sitter, or if their kitchen sink is broken AGAIN he will he there for them. Richie on the other hand really is just some guy, he's Eddie and Bev's old friend from high school and he sometimes drops by to visit them and awkwardly interact with the kids.

Jack and Sophia have their own distinct personalities that bounce off their parents quite well I think. Jack is a very sweet and sentimental kid who clings to his moms side like glue. He adores his mother, mostly because he thinks she's so strong for leaving his abusive father and going out on his own. They're very close, to the point Bev often wonders if her son is... ya know 🏳️‍🌈? But she'd rather just wait for him to come to her about that than pressure him into admitting something he's not ready to share. Jack's also a bit of a theatre kid, he does lots of plays and is obsessed with musicals, so Bev makes him costumes for all his shows. Jack and Bev have the kind of relationship where they scream sing songs in the car together, usually girlboss anthems abour break ups because of how much Jack hates his dad. Tom really doesn't care about Jack at all and they are almost completely no contact, but he's pissed off that he cannot turn his son against Bev since he knows that would hurt her a lot. If he was was still in Jack's life he would no doubt abuse him and try to shame him for being so effeminate, which is percisely why Jack hates his guts. He honestly sees Mr. Hanscom and Mr. Kaspbrak as more of his father figures, because they've never tried to hurt his mom in anyway. Jack is really really hoping his mom will wake up and notice that Ben is madly in love with her, because not only would Jack love a sweet and caring step dad, he'd love a man that treats his mother right.

Sophia Kaspbrak is a bit of a problem child, although she certainly has her sweet qualities. She's like an older sister to Jack and she's a genuinely very good student, but it's clear Sophia's having problems with how radically different her life is now. She, unlike Jack, actually has a fairly good relationship with her mother and doesn't exactly understand why her dad had to leave. She understand that he's gay, but she doesn't understand why the divorce had to be so nasty and terrible, she doesn't understand that Myra was abusing Eddie emotionally and Eddie is really hesitant to share that. She shares a few physical traits with her mother, mostly being overweight and blonde, but she honestly looks more like her dad in the face. Eddie no doubt loves his daughter, but their relationship isn't nearly as good as Bev's and Jack's, mostly due to their conflicting personalities and Eddie's own issues.

Sophia is more interested in stereotypical girl things, she wants a boyfriend, she wants to be pretty, she wants to get invited to places and be seen as cool. This causes kind of a rift between her and her dad because, well, Eddie kaspbrak was never cool, neither as an adult nor child. She finds her dad kind of embarassing with how anxious and cagey he is, but she tries not to tell him that so it doesn't hurt his feelings. All of this isn't helped by the fact Eddie is informed Sophia is a bully at school to other girls, and Eddie feels like he's such a bad dad that he's raising the next Henry Bowers or Vic Criss. He really is trying to relate to his daughter though, but they're on basically two different planets. He goes dress shopping with her, he comforts her through her first period, he tries to listen to all her petty teenage girl drama and understand, but he's just really out of his element. He can't even ask Myra for help on this because he knows if he does she'll take it as a sign he's regretting leaving and might come "crawling back" any day.

Really I think Eddie's and Sophia's communication issues just have to do with his own fears of becoming like his mother, he's terrified of smothering her and suffocating her so sometimes he's either too indulgent or lax with her when she needs him. I think their relationship would flourish as she got older, but as it stands currently, Eddie feels like a terrible father pretty much all the time. Bev has to knock some sense into him about it every once in a while "Eddie, you're not bad dad, for god sakes, you'd give your daughter both your kindeys if she needed them." "You're doing your best, that's all you can do, Eds." "If you really don't wanna be like Sonia, all you gotta do is listen. That's it.". But Eddie still feels like shit about how he's raising Sophia, espcially because all of her teacher hate him and love Bev for some reason. Sometimes he will feel so bad about his own parenting that he will become to reliant on having Bev talk to her "woman to woman" when really he should be comforting her. Bev puts it very aptly by saying "I don't mind helping you raise her Eddie, and I also don't mind giving you advice on girl troubles, but she's your daughter, not mine. Who do you honestly think she wants to hear from right now?".

All the single parent angst aside though, this au is still pretty silly and light hearted at times. Bev and Eddie are CONSTANTLY mistaken for a married couple, even though they clarify over and over again that they're just friends who live together. Sometimes Bev and Eddie even get into a little playful contests about who's kid is worse "My daughter got sent home early cause she threatened to hit a girl" "Mine got a bucket stuck on his head this morning and i had to saw it off". I imagine Bev and Eddie also don't get out much anymore or have any real social lives these days, so the very first time they have a night to themselves without their kids they get high together and talk about their kids some more while they cry and eat junkfood. Sometimes they'll catch themselves getting way too excited about like... water filters and scrub brushes, and they suddenly realize that they're old as fuck and need to get out more.

Also even though Sophia and her dad clash on lots of things and she thinks Richie is a "total weirdo" she can tell he's in love with her dad and that his dad really likes him back, so she enjoys playfully teasing them both about it. The average sophia and Richie conversation is basically "I know you're scared my dad doesn't like you, but you shouldn't be. He does, he thinks your butts cute and that you're really funny." "Your dad thinks i'm funny!?". On the off chance that Richie and Bev go on a date with Eddie and Ben, i just imagine it's mostly a comedy of errors while Eddie and Bev act like hot messes the whole time. Bev shows up late with one of her heels snapped off and looking like a total mess to go in a fancy restaurant, while Eddie screams at some lady who cuts him and Richie off in traffic. Eddie and Richie never even get out of the car while Bev and Ben basically just walk around the city since she doesn't look nice enough to go in the restaurant now.

[sonikkublue]

goin on here to rant so most my ppl dont see, im not that active here anyways so who cares, i sure dont. my year has dragged me to my lowest point till ive become sucidal again. i dont like thinkin abt it but its there

i want to quit. i want to quit friends, i want to quit art, i want to quit everything. everything. including my au. i want to drop dead off the internet and prob go kill myself or reflect or smth. idk, one of those is better than the other, but again i dont know. everything is always hurting and ive been so numb to everything since this year has started, its only gotten worse. my friends arent makin this any better either

im done bein used, im done getting manipulated, im done seeing ppl favor one another right in front of me, im done w/ ppl not listenin to me when i try expressin smth im struggling w/, even if it wasnt much or none at all. i dont even vent a lot or at all. why?? cuz no one ever fucking listens, gets mad at me while i try talkin, pushes my issue away w/ another topic immediately. they my friends act more excited towards the other everyone else gettin smth meanwhile i get lil to none. i recognize im not gettin appreciated as everyone else in my friend group, like they're uninterested in me anymore. that they dont care. ive tried bein positive, i cannot. my friends have offered and offered and offered for me to talk to them if im ever bothered- "u can always talk to us if smth wrong" or smth like that...ok?? last time i broke down in call, one of my friends was playin cookie run to distract themselves, so they werent even fully listening...another time i just got flat out ignored, my issue got pushed aside by another art topic, "damn". NO ONE FUCKING CARES. i already know the cycle. too many times ive lived thru it and im only enabling it by gettin vulnerable. at this point, i cant trust my own friends cuz its so hard too believe them when they keep doin the same thing to me over and over. they're trying to prove smth to me to make me think they care. i dont fucking believe it cuz no one has ever shown care back for me, regardless of how much i give to them. theres that word again. i give so fucking much, and i hate myself for bein this way. most of the time i wish my au didnt blow up cuz its put so much pressure on me like the new friends that came and left in my life, me realizing i have to maintain an audience... idk, maybe im a lost cause. i cant do any of this anymore. i want to die. i dont like thinkin it, but i want too. theres so much stress, so much unbearable stress and anger. and no one will fucking care. ive been hurt by my own friends too many times. i dont say anything cuz its just gonna happen all over again, no how many times i *try* and bring it up to them, they will not fucking listen. no one ever fucking listens to me. i didnt like makin friends from the beginning, ive loved bein alone from the start, but everything happens naturally...unfortunately

i give and give and give and i get absolutely nothing back. im all used up.

idk everything fucking sucks rn. i didnt have to worry abt all of this when i was a smaller acc and i had myself. thats all i needed. now im just miserable. im depressed, sucidal thoughts are everyday, i cry to myself everyday and night cuz of it, im stuck living w/ this thing i made out of my pure "imagination" and that same thing almost made me kill myself one time, ive almost killed myself twice a couple months back- one in my parents bathroom and almost sneakin out of my window to wander away from home.

one day im goin to leave, and im not gonna say a word

[some-little-infamy]

Tommy, Bothered and Bewildered

(Read on AO3)

Tommy isn’t sure what to expect when he knocks on Evan’s door and asks if they can talk, he just knows that he has to say something, because things can’t keep going on the way that they currently are.

He’s seen the friendship that Evan and Eddie have, and he has his suspicions that it might run deeper than anyone else knows about, at least on an open level. That isn’t something he’s willing to get in the middle of.

But he doesn’t want to stop spending time with them, either. He wants to teach Evan how to fly, and grab that beer with him sometime. He wants to keep going to fights with Eddie and spend some more time around that great kid of his.

None of that is going to happen if he doesn’t clear the air about the building tension they’re all feeling. In a way, he’s glad it all came to a head at the basketball game. That gave him an excuse to bring it up without feeling weird about it, like he was assuming anyone cared about him any more than they did.

“Can I get you something? I still owe you a beer, right?” Evan offers.

“No, I’m good. I won’t stay long. I just wanted to clear the air and I didn’t want to do it over the phone or in a text or something,” Tommy waves the offer off. He has a shift after this, anyway. But the truth is that he wanted to see Evan. He wanted to be here, to look him in the eyes, and swear that he knows what Eddie means to him. Promise that he never meant to get in the middle of that.

Of course, there’s more to it than that. Tommy would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he hated having to turn down that first offer to go out for drinks, even if his plans for the fight in Vegas were huge, because honestly? If he knew the offer would be on the table he would’ve given up the tickets in a heartbeat. There’s just something about Evan that draws him in, that makes him want to know more.

But that isn’t why he’s here, not really.

They have the talk, awkward at moments but a relief in the end. Tommy apologizes, and surprisingly, Evan takes full ownership of the way he reacted as bad behavior on his part. Tommy doesn’t know much about Evan, but he feels like he knows enough to know that that’s a pretty big deal for him to admit.

  “I mean it’s not like I could ever replace you. Christopher would absolutely have something to say about that. That kid cannot shut up about you,” Tommy tells Evan. What he doesn’t tell him is that Christopher didn’t shut up about him because Tommy practically barraged the poor kid with questions, trying to get anything he could about what Evan likes to eat, or what he does on his days off, or what music he listens to. Fortunately and unfortunately, the answer to all of that is usually whatever Christopher asks for, which unfortunately left Tommy with little useful information, and fortunately left him even more endeared with Evan.

Then everything happens so quickly. Evan moves closer to him. He jokes about fake mouth static. They’re laughing, and sharing looks, and… Jesus, did Evan’s eyelashes just bat at him?

“I just wanted to get to know you,” Evan says finally, and Tommy’s breath stops entirely.

“Yeah?” Tommy tries, and fails, not to sound surprised. He thinks he made it pretty clear he wants to get to know Evan - the hangar tour, the raincheck on drinks, the fact that he drove all the way here today for a conversation that absolutely could’ve been a text - he isn’t hiding anything. He just hadn’t been so sure about Evan’s side of it until now.

And then the talk circles back around to Eddie. Eddie’s great. He’s a good guy, they have a lot in common, and yeah, they’re pretty good friends… but that’s it. Eddie’s in a relationship, and as far as Tommy is aware, straight. Tommy wouldn’t even think about seriously flirting with him, would never dare to cross that line. But with Evan…

There’s no doubt in Tommy’s mind now that Evan was flirting with him back at the hangar. He asked for a tour when he wasn’t seriously planning on learning, the hopeful look in his eyes when he asked Tommy out for drinks… there was something there and it killed Tommy to not be able to explore right away. He’d hoped…

…and there it is again. That damned hope.

“Just… trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting.”

“My attention?” He thought… well, he suspected, wondered really… but maybe he was just reading too much into Evan and Eddie’s friendship.

Buck is rambling now, mentions of maiming his best friend and talks with his sister, but Tommy barely processes any of it before making up his mind on what he wants to do next. He drove here, across town before a shift, through Los Angeles traffic, not just to see Evan, but to see what potential relationship - friendship or otherwise - Tommy could salvage after everything that went down.

Tommy closes the small space between them, giving Evan just enough time to back away. He brings two fingers under Evan’s chin to lift it, and when there’s no resistance Tommy leans in and kisses him. He waits, reading every push and pull of the muscles under his touch, but Evan only leans into the kiss, bringing his own hand up to Tommy’s arm.

When Tommy pulls away and takes in the look of astonishment on Evan’s face, he knows he made the right decision.

So when Tommy has to leave - and he has to leave, because if he goes in for a second kiss he isn’t sure there’s any force in the universe that would be able to pull him away with enough time to get to his shift - he makes sure Evan knows that he wants to see him again. And again. And again.

Starting with Saturday.

[chaiiitime]

It Happened One Summer Night

Summary : Stranded at the airport, Adriana Montero Mundt would do pretty much anything to get to her sister’s wedding, including getting into a tiny car with Daniel Ricciardo — even if she pretty much hates him Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x OC!Fem Word Count : 3,500

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 1

“Are you sure? Can you check again?”

The lady behind the counter at the Barcelona airport's information desk gave her an overly patient smile, “Yes Ma’am, I’m sure. Unfortunately, the car rental agency no longer has any cars available and we don’t know when flights are going to resume. But –“ Her fingers clacked rapidly on her keyboard, “I can book you on the next available flight to Jerez. However, I cannot give you any reassurances when that would be.”

To say Adriana Montero Mundt was having a crappy day would be an understatement.

First, she’d nearly missed her flight from London to Barcelona because of a last-minute meeting with an important client. And now, her flight to Jerez had been cancelled because of a freak technology glitch in the airport’s systems which had effectively grounded all flights out of Barcelona. No one knew when flights would resume and there apparently were no cars available to rent, more or less leaving her stranded.

Which wasn’t so great considering she needed to be in her hometown of Jerez for her baby sister’s wedding in four days.

She was about to argue with the lady again when her phone began ringing. The lady looked pointedly at her phone before craning her neck to look at the long line behind her. Adriana got the message loud and clear — she needed to get out of the line.

With a sigh, she stepped aside to answer. “Hey sis!” Carmen was on the other end. “Any updates?”

Adriana slowly massaged her temples. She could feel a headache coming on. “No,” she answered, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. The last thing Carmen needed was any additional stress right before her wedding.

“All flights have been cancelled. No one knows when they will resume." She paced along the glass windows looking out on the tarmac.  So many planes neatly lined up in their little big boxes.  All of them useless because they couldn’t take her to where she needed.  “It can be in an hour or a day or even more, and there’s no cars available for hire.” She stopped pacing, trying to sound hopeful for Carmen’s sake. “But don’t worry about it – I’m sure I’ll find something soon.”

“Actually, I may have a solution for you.” Carmen’s voice sounded way too bright.  “You know Daniel Ricciardo, right? George’s mate?”

Nononononono. Adriana didn’t like where this was going.

“Anyway, George just mentioned he’s flying in today as well. He just got off the phone with him."  Adriana winced at Carmen’s excitement bubbling over the phone.  “Turns out, he was meant to take the same flight as you to Jerez but he's been a bit luckier. He’s managed to snag a rental car and –“

Nononononono.

“He’s happy to give you a ride.”

Suddenly, the headache that had been threatening since her flight landed, was beating right at the base of her skull. She could feel the band of her pencil skirt biting into her belly and her stilettos pinching her feet. She inwardly cursed at herself for taking that last-minute meeting.  If she hadn’t, at least she would have had the time to change in more comfortable clothes rather than having to dash to the airport in her work clothes.

The last thing she wanted right now was to face a ten-hours plus drive with Daniel freaking Ricciardo.

~

DANIEL WATCHED AS Carmen’s sister tottered her way across the parking lot. There was no other way to describe it other than tottering because who the hell wore such a tight skirt and heels to travel?

He wished he hadn’t picked up George’s call. He could have been making his way out of Barcelona right now, with the windows down and some good music on.  Instead, here he was — waiting for Adriana Montero Mundt.

Daniel prided himself on being friendly with everybody. That was what he was known for, right? So, when someone blanked him out, it kind of pissed him off. He’d been nothing but nice to Adriana the two times he had met her and both times, she’d been nothing but glacial towards him.

She was snooty, as his Nonna would say, and Daniel usually couldn’t care less about these kinds of people. So, it bothered him that his memory of her was so accurate — and detailed: the wavy dark hair, the vibrant green eyes and most importantly, the beauty mark à la Cindy Crawford.

It attracted the eyes to the fullness of her lips. It tempted Daniel to test out the lushness of her mouth — which was so not going to happen because him and her, they were like water and oil.

They didn’t mix.

“Hello, Daniel.” Her voice was cool and oh-so-carefully modulated. “Thank you for giving me a ride. I hope it isn’t too much trouble.”

Civil and polite. He could do that.

“No worries. We’re headed the same way.” He bent down to pick up her suitcase to put it in the boot.

“It’s ok. I can —“

“It’s alright.” Daniel cut her off as he heaved her suitcase into the boot. How much stuff did one need for a weekend? He nodded towards the passenger door. “It’s getting late. I want to get on the road as soon as possible.”

The inside of the car was stuffy from being in the sun for so long, the leather seats warm against the back of Adriana’s knees. Daniel already had the windows down in an attempt to get the warm air out. She resisted the urge to ask him to turn on the AC. After all, she didn’t want him to think she was difficult or whatever else he thought she was.

“Here.” Daniel handed her the map he had picked up from the rental agency desk. He had roughly traced out the route to Jerez with a pen. With one hand on the wheel, he set up his phone in the cup holder and slowly backed out of the parking spot. 

“Google Maps say that Jerez is about ten hours away, give or take.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eyes.  She was studying the map so intently as if she could come up with a faster route.

“My plan is to make it halfway to Valencia for tonight. Hopefully, we can find a place for the night there, and be back on the road early tomorrow morning. If nothing goes wrong, we’ll be in Jerez before noon.”

She pursed her lips as she folded the map and handed it back to him. “It sounds like a plan.” 

Daniel hated the note of surprise in her voice. Yeah sure, he didn’t have a fancy degree like her but he wasn’t a complete idiot – he could very well come up with a plan of action without her help.

He sent up a silent prayer of help because he knew this trip was going to be a nightmare.

~

TWO HOURS LATER, they were finally making their way out of Barcelona and onto the motorway. Both of them — as well as Google Maps — had vastly underestimated the time it would take to drive through the city at peak hour.

It had gotten so hot in the car that Daniel had given up and rolled up the windows to turn on the AC. Adriana watched him now, his fingers beating lightly to the country song he had put on. He looked relaxed and completely at ease behind the wheel.

She had to give him credit — he was a surprisingly patient driver. Sure, he had fidgeted a lot — continuously playing with his phone, sometimes picking at the skin around his nails, or craning his neck to look at other cars while constantly muttering to himself — but, he hadn’t once lost his temper as he had navigated through the horrendous traffic. Adriana knew, if she had been the one in the driver’s seat, she most probably would have pulled her hair out in frustration.

That didn’t exactly match the image of Daniel Ricciardo she had in her mind.

Adriana didn’t particularly like Daniel, which was a bit harsh, she admitted to herself, given how she had only met him twice before now.

Carmen had always told Adriana that her worst trait was that she was a bit too quick to judge people. Was she a bit too judgemental? Sure, yeah, but it was a label she’d wear proudly when she was almost always right and when her judgmental ass was what made her a damn good lawyer. So, had she then been a bit too quick to judge Daniel?

Maybe.

She remembered very clearly the first time she had met him. It had been at Carmen’s and George’s engagement party. She remembered him walking in and feeling that instant shift in the room’s energy.

Larger than life. There was no other way to describe Daniel.

There was something magnetic about him that just pulled people in. Maybe it was the smile or maybe it was the nose — it made his face that much more interesting. It made you want to take another longer look at him, grab a sketch pad and sketch that side profile — even if you were not an artist.  Adriana had been annoyed at herself for finding him attractive because one look at him, and she had him down pat.

She knew his type very well — rich, good-looking guy who thought he was god’s gift to women. He’d take you on a thrilling ride and discard you without a second thought once he was bored. And her assessment had proven correct as she had watched him flirt his way around the room, even when he had come to the party with a date.

So, by the time George had introduced them, Adriana had been distinctly cool towards him. She’d politely rebuffed all his flirting attempts. She dealt with enough big egos like his every day at work, she didn’t need to be another notch on his bedpost — or whichever other way Mr. Daniel Ricciardo kept track of his conquests.

Adriana chanced another look at him now. The afternoon light casted his face into golden shadows, the light almost bouncing off the bump on his nose. He was truly a handsome man – it was a pity he was such an asshole.

~

SHE NEARLY GROANED another country song came on.  

God, Daniel sure liked his country music.

Adriana didn’t understand that kink he had for playing the cowboy. Carmen had once shown her a picture of him riding into the paddock on a horse in all his texasboo glory.  That facial hair was — for lack of a better word — an inspired choice. 

She had to admit though, no one but Daniel could have made that look palatable.

“Can we change the music?”

Daniel was surprised to hear her speak. She had barely said anything since they’d gotten on the road and Daniel had been dying over here trying not to make conversation – he didn’t take silence, comfortable or otherwise, very well.

“Sure.” He said as he handed her his phone. 

Sometime during the drive, she’d pulled her hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck and kicked off her heels — it made her look soft, almost vulnerable. The pale pink polish on her toes felt incongruous to the image of her he had in his mind.  He would have thought she would have gone for a darker colour, one more evocative of her sharp edges. Daniel actually felt like a pervert for noticing her feet — like one of those weirdos who lurked on wikiFeet rating people’s feet.

He definitely was a weirdo for knowing wikiFeet existed, he thought to himself.

“Do you even listen to all these songs?” She had her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she scrolled through his playlist. There must be nearly a thousand songs, or even more, on there and most of them were artists she had never heard of before.  All very underground, all very niche. All very —

“Your music choice is so pretentious.” Oops, she hadn’t exactly intended to say that out loud.

“What do you mean pretentious?!”

“Well, all your songs are from artists I’ve never heard of.” She fully turned towards him, holding his phone screen out to him. “Don’t lie and tell me you don’t go out of your way to listen to artists other people have never heard of to be —” She air-quoted, “—cool.”

“Of course, I go out of my way to look for new songs! Why does that have to be a bad thing?” He turned the blinker on to overtake a slower car in front of them. “Music is important. It feeds your soul. You need a song for every moment of your life.”

Adriana blinked up at him. She hadn’t expected such a passionate response from him.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he gestured towards her. “What’s your favourite song? Like that one song that brings you back to an important moment of your life?”

Adriana drew a blank at his question. She didn’t want to think about what it said about her and her life that she couldn’t even come up with a favourite song in that moment. God, when was the last time she had actually listened to a song? Maybe read a book? Her job consumed her every waking moment that she never really stopped working till her head hit her pillow at night.

She felt oddly exposed by his question. She hadn’t expected Daniel, of all people, to send her into a philosophical spiral about her life. She shrugged it off and pulled up his Spotify. 

Oh, he was going to hate this song. She couldn’t help the smirk when she saw Daniel barely holding back the wince on his face as the song she had chosen started to play.

“What?” She asked with smug satisfaction. She’d known he would be just the type of guy to hate Coldplay, especially Paradise.

“Nothing. It’s a good song.”

Adriana had to suppress a laugh at his pained admission. “It is a good song.” She leaned back in her seat, turning her head to look outside, drumming her fingers along to the music.

It was still light out, the summer evening looking deceptively early even as the clock on the dash showed it was well after 8 p.m. She wasn’t sure how much longer it would take to reach Valencia. They’d lost so much time getting out of Barcelona and queuing up at the toll booth that she feared they would reach Valencia too late to find a respectable place for the night.

She tried to surreptitiously look at the speed Daniel was doing. Why is this guy doing the speed limit? What was the use of him being a Formula One driver if he was not going to take advantage of an empty highway and Vin-Diesel it?

She cleared her throat and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. “Do you want to switch? I can drive for a bit.”

Daniel glanced over, trying to determine why she suddenly wanted to drive. “It’s ok. I’m fine driving.” He really didn’t trust her behind the wheel, but he was not going to say that aloud.

“I’m just saying — ” she nonchalantly eased back in her seat, crossing her ankles. “We’re going to be reaching Valencia later than we originally planned anyway, and we’ll have to be on the road early next morning. That doesn’t leave you much time to rest up. So, if I drive now, you can rest a bit and will not be too tired when we get on the road early tomorrow.”

“But it’s ok though —” she shrugged. “— if you don’t want to let me drive. I just wanted to help out.”

Daniel couldn’t dispute the logic behind her reasoning. He was starting to feel a bit tired anyway, it wouldn’t be too bad if he could sit back for a bit. “Ok, fine. Let me just pull over.”

“Great!” Adriana flashed him a brilliant smile as she bent down, picking her heels and throwing them in the back.

~

DANIEL HAD BARELY clipped his seatbelt on that Adriana peeled away from the shoulder. 

“Wowowo, Michael Schumacher, slow down!”

He definitely didn’t have her down as a speed demon.

“What?!” She threw him a defiant look. “I’m barely going over the speed limit. Anyway, you’re an F1 driver — isn’t speed kind of your thing?”

“My only thing right now is for me to make the end of this trip alive.” He was smiling as he said it, his body relaxing as he stretched his legs in front of him. 

The speed definitely didn’t bother him.

Adriana settled down in the driver’s seat. It was actually nice to drive — the warm breeze in her hair, the empty highway, the Spanish flat plains stretching out on either side of the road. It was the perfect therapy to let go of stress.

“So …” Daniel was tapping his fingers along to the music. “Excited for the wedding, huh?”

Adriana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The man had managed to stay quiet all while he was driving, but now he seemed unable to sit still. 

“Sure.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows at her blunt answer. “Your enthusiasm astounds me. Tell me more,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, but not all of us are Mr. Funny, Outgoing and Popular,” she irritatedly pushed back her hair. “Some of us are reserved and quiet, and that’s fine.”

“There’s a fine difference between being reserved and rude.” Daniel muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Daniel flashed her his most media-trained smile.

He should let this thing go. He should just sit through the awkward silence. He really should not — “Have I done anything to you for you to hate me like that?”

Daniel surprised even himself with that question. 

He hated conflict, so he didn’t know what possessed him to ask her this question outright. Heck, he hated confrontation so much that he even stopped to chat with Zak fucking Brown every time he saw him in the paddock, even after the man had almost ended his career.

“I don’t hate you,” Adriana swiped at the stubborn strand of hair that the wind kept blowing into her face. “I just don’t like you.”

“And why is that?” Daniel turned towards her, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Sure, you’re —“ she gestured towards him, “charming and funny and people think you’re nice. Which you are, but you’re also arrogant.”

Daniel cut her off with a sardonic huff. “Babes, I’m an F1 driver. Being arrogant is a pre-requisite. If I don’t believe I’m the best, I might as well not step in the car.”

“Oh, I’m not done!”  She gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “You’re vain. You think just because you’re good-looking, you’re god’s gift to women — you expect women to just fall at your feet.”

Was he vain about his looks? Maybe, yes. He’d grown up an awkward kid — he’d been self-conscious about his nose, his hair, his crooked teeth. So, when he’d woken up one day in his twenties and realised, he’d somehow grown into his looks, had he taken advantage of women throwing themselves at him? Shoot him, any other guy in his shoes would have done the same.

He was about to give her a piece of his mind, but she was not done apparently.  "On top of that, you have this need to be the centre of attention. You like to have your needs catered to, which is why you always date women much younger than you. That way, they're always eager to do what you want without you having to give them anything back in return. You can keep them in neat little boxes without having to change much about your life."

This touched a sore string with Daniel. He knew he could be selfish, he had to be if he wanted to stay in Formula One because racing was the most important thing in his life — above everything else. He was not perfect or blameless, but he worked damn hard to be a better person. So, it angered him that she could sit there and allow herself to enumerate his supposed sins.

"Don't sit there on your high horse and pretend like you don't have any flaws while you thumb your nose at everybody else. The fall from your high horse is going to hurt."

She laughed derisively, the sound brittle even to her ears.

Daniel looked thunderous, his eyebrows furrowed into angry dashes. Who was she to judge him when she’d most probably been handed everything on a silver platter in life? What did she know about the struggles, the sacrifices he had to make to get to where he was? 

"Even if I am guilty of all the supposed flaws you've just listed, that doesn't justify why you hate me." He held up a hand to stop whatever she was going to say. "I have been nothing but nice to you since we met. So, I don't get this hatred you have against me."

She vaulted towards him, her eyes no longer on the road. Anger had heightened her colour, her hair coming almost undone from the bun she had put it in. "Don’t pretend like you don’t know!" Her words were sharp like darts. "I heard the comment you made about me to George at his birthday party."

Daniel looked stumped. "What comment?"

“Don’t pretend as if you don’t know!”

“No seriously, what comment?!”

They glared at each other, her eyes blazing with anger, his with suspicious defiance. Suddenly, there was a horrible grating noise. It felt like something was clawing at the floor of the car, the brakes screeching as Adriana tried to bring the car to a stop.

Fucking hell, she had run over something.

Next Chapter >>

[edosianorchids901]

Maybe A Bad Idea

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "maybe one more"

Cw: alcohol abuse

Crowley toyed with the jug of wine on the table. He’d had a lot already, more than a lot. His vision had gone blurry a while ago, and he couldn’t quite feel his fingers. It was probably a bad idea to drink any more right now.

But he was sore everywhere. Sore, and tired of seeing people do horrible things to each other, and deeply tired of consciousness. Consciousness was overrated.

Conflicted, he poured another cup and stared at it. Sure, a demon could drink a lot without it being an issue. But past a certain point… bazzam. He’d be out cold. And although he wasn’t sure if he’d hit that point yet, he had to be getting close.

And he was in a tavern. Not his own bed. If he was gonna pass out, he preferred to do it in his own bed. Or, at least, the bed he’d rented.

He turned the cup in circles a few times, mouth watering at the thought of the sweet wine. The wine was one of the best things about Florence. Loads of options.

He liked this wine a lot. But it probably wasn’t a good idea to finish off the jug, no matter how much he liked it.

“Nnnh.” He picked up the cup. “Maybe one more.”

He was just gulping it down when a voice behind him said, “Maybe one more what?”

Startled, Crowley choked on the wine. “Hrgnk?”

Aziraphale, moving up next to him, patted him on the back while he coughed. “Oh dear. Are you all right?”

“Don’t… sneak up on me like that.” Crowley coughed again. “You’rennnangel. Shouldn’t sneak.”

“I didn’t sneak. I walked up right next to you.”

“Sneaking,” Crowley muttered again anyway. “N’ I’m only having one more. Gotta be respons’ble.”

“One more what?” Aziraphale asked.

“Drink.”

“I think you’ve had more than enough drinks, Crowley.”

“No such thing. Not when… thingy.” Crowley frowned, trying to remember what he’d been thinking about. He was pretty sure he’d been thinking about ducks at some point. “Ducks?”

Aziraphale’s expression wrenched with confusion. “You… you’re drinking because of ducks?”

“Nuh. Ducks are cool. S’ humans. I just meant, uh.” Crowley stared vaguely at the angel. “Can we go feed ducks?”

“It is one in the morning.”

“So, yes?”

“No.” Gently, Aziraphale took his arm. “Come along. It’s my angelic duty to make sure that silly old serpents make it home safety after overindulging.”

“S’ not,” Crowley protested. “S’posed to smite me, probably.”

“Well, do you want me to smite you?”

Crowley considered it. “Nuh. Sounds like it would hurt. And I hurt enough, right?”

“Ah, I see. That does explain the drinking, at least a bit.” Undeterred, Aziraphale tugged him out of the chair and dragged him towards the door. “Did anything cause the pain?”

“You’re not exactly helping it, are you?”

“Before that, I mean. Before you started drinking.”

Everything before Crowley started drinking was a total blur, which was just the way he liked it. “Dunno. I guess… stress? Was writing my report n’ stuff.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said softly. “Yes, I suppose that would be stressful.”

It was always stressful, but this century had been even worse than others. Crowley was expected to report on anything and everything horrible happening in the area where he’d been assigned.

Unfortunately, there were a lot of horrible things happening. Right now, he was mostly bothered by all the war and murder and torture and everything.

“Think I tensed up a lot.” Woozy, he leaned on Aziraphale as they went down the narrow cobbled street. “Sort of just overloaded, didn’t I? Can you blame me?”

“No. No, I certainly cannot blame you.” Sighing, Aziraphale steered him into an inn, then took him to an unfamiliar room. “You smell rather a lot of wine, my dear.”

“Spilled it on myself earlier,” Crowley said helpfully.

“Yes, well. Why don’t you change into some clean clothes?”

“Don’t have any.”

“I shall lend you some, then.”

Crowley yielded, too tired to argue that a demon couldn’t be caught wearing white. But the clothes smelled like Aziraphale, and they weren’t soaked in wine and Satan knew what else, so that was a definite bonus.

His head spun, and he groaned as Aziraphale dressed him and then pulled him into bed. He crumpled against the soft side, his head landing on Aziraphale’s well-padded shoulder. “M’ tired.”

“I imagine so.” Gently, Aziraphale stroked hair out of his face and pressed a careful kiss to his brow. “Are you too hot or too cold?”

Crowley tried to think. He wasn’t having much luck thinking.

“Think last drink was too many,” he finally said. He was pretty sure he was supposed to be answering a question. Couldn’t actually remember what Aziraphale asked. “Right? Maybe a bad idea.”

“Maybe a bad idea,” Aziraphale agreed, spreading a blanket across him. Arms settles loosely around him, like they were insulating him from the rest of the world. “But it’s a very good idea for you to stay with me, hmm? You did get yourself into this, but I am quite content to watch over you.”

“Hn. Yeah.” Crowley closed his eyes, sinking deeper into Aziraphale’s embrace. “S’ good idea.”

He was still sore everywhere, not to mention miserable over the things that people did to each other, and he was pretty sure he was about to pass out from that last cup of wine. At least here, in Aziraphale’s arms, he could enjoy unconsciousness in total safety.

[dandylovesturtles]

just a little write-up for one of my sillier AUs that I have in my head because I was thinking about it and just wanted to chat about it. this is all meant for spooky funsies so don't take anything too seriously here.

I do plan to write one of my Bad Things Happen Bingo entries set in this AU (no idea when I'll actually get around to it, but anyway) and maybe some other things in this AU if I feel like it. It just floats around in my head sometimes.

this is very very vaguely inspired by the old show So Weird, or more specifically the hazy memories of So Weird that I have from when I watched it as a child lol

ROTTMNT Paranormal Investigator AU!

Timeline:

instead of being a martial arts clan, the Hamato clan is a clan of psychics, people who have a mystical connection to the paranormal and supernatural, able to see things other humans cannot. their task is to keep the balance between our world and the world of the supernatural, and to protect humanity from particularly malicious spirits, demons, and cryptids

after losing his mother to the fight against a demon, Hamato Yoshi decides to leave the clan and eventually becomes a famous movie star

unfortunately with no one around to keep balance, the forces of the paranormal start to encroach on the mortal world more and more, wreaking havoc

the boys are still mutant turtles and Yoshi still ends up a rat. how? idk. honestly it's not important. it's a thing that is mostly lampshaded in this AU lol I just still wanted them to be turtles. I think Draxum is still here and he still wanted to make warriors using the Lou Jitsu DNA but the whole thing went astray and now he's just like their weird uncle they call sometimes when they have a problem

as they get older, various dangerous paranormal events convince Yoshi that he needs to begin training his sons in their clan's ancient arts and honing their psychic abilities, so that they can begin to restore balance in the world

uuuunfortunately he's super rusty and the kids are still learning so they have to do a lot of investigating of rumors and tips that get sent to them. this means a lot of legwork and a loooot of nothing. like 95% of what the boys deal with are misunderstandings, hoaxes, and rich assholes taking advantage of local legends for nefarious schemes

the other 5% though... those are the doozies

Yoshi has an apartment in New York that the kids grew up in but now they spend a lot of their time traveling the country in a big ass camper (van life)

also April is here

Leo

the skeptic

up until they ran into their first real paranormal occurrence, Leo was fully convinced that all this ghost stuff was nonsense and his dad was just trying to come up with some kind of publicity stunt since his acting career is behind him

after their first real paranormal occurrence, he believes it's real, but he's still super skeptical that most things they hear about are going to amount to anything

and 95% of the time he's right, which he always reminds his brothers of and this is very annoying to the rest of them

he still enjoys traveling around in the van though so he doesn't complain much

super good at scouting out clues and noticing things that the others don't...when they can get him to actually engage with what they're looking into

Leo is on the lower end in terms of psychic ability, but specifically his psychic powers have manifested as essentially a giant negation field. He can't be possessed, enthralled, hypnotized, or compelled, cryptids tend to shy away from him, he naturally rebuffs other supernatural creatures, etc.

this doesn't really help with trying to convince him that these things are real because they tend to run away from him

Donnie

fully believes that the paranormal is real but takes a highly scientific approach to it. he is going to crack the science behind ghosts and he's already got the spot in his room made for his resulting Nobel Prize. he's gonna be Donatello Hamato, Father of Ectobiology

builds them all kinds of ghost/demon/cryptid hunting gadgets, and is the one that handles all their equipment anywhere they go

reads books on ghosts and cryptozoology and then writes truly scathing reviews on good reads

is also the one who does upkeep on the van (it's only nice as it is because of Donnie)

claims to only care about evidence during a hunt but then has a tendency to get carried away when he thinks he's on the trail of something interesting

still, he can come around to a natural explanation like Leo if he sees enough evidence

he's also on the lower end in terms of psychic ability; what he does have gives him information. he's able to see the threads of how spirits connect to and interact with our world, able to tell at a glance when a footprint or dropping is not of natural origin (even if he's never seen it's kind before), able to sense when there may be some evidence the others can't see in the room. sometimes spirits are even compelled to beam knowledge directly to Donnie. also, demons or spirits trying to disguise their true faces doesn't work on him.

which actually freaks him out sometimes but he doesn't tell them that

the twins' psychic power also manifests in a lowkey Twin Sense in this AU; they can't literally read each other's thoughts, but they can feel when the other is having strong emotions or is in pain, and they'll just get a Bad Feeling if the other is in trouble of some kind

Raph

sits somewhere between Leo and Mikey/Donnie on the skepticism scale, but frankly he doesn't care if it's natural or supernatural as long as he can help

cryptids never like him and this bums him out. some of them are cute :c

on the flip side he seems to be a calming presence for certain spirits, especially childish ones

very scared of getting demon possessed, doesn't mention it

actually kind of loves when the solution turns out to be some kind of bad guy and then he gets to help hunt down and catch and unmask them, like some kind of super cool police detective

is the defacto leader because he's the oldest/biggest and no one else wanted the job anyway

drives the van when Yoshi doesn't want to (the others drive it sometimes too but Raph and April are the only ones with an actual license)

has a much higher psychic ability than the twins, able to sense when there is something supernatural in the area, able to talk to spirits, able to touch spirits and demons if they've crossed fully over into our world even if they are normally intangible. means he can punch a demon in the face if he wants to. he's able to do various rituals and exorcisms if needed as well, and can often banish spirits or demons if he knows what they are and how to best get rid of them. often does protection wards on his brothers when he thinks there's something dangerous around.

Mikey

a true believer, but doesn't think it's a puzzle that can be solved like Donnie does. there are things about the world and universe that are unexplainable, and he likes it that way

if the solution is something natural he's pretty much useless at helping though

"don't run off-" Mikey is already on the other side of the haunted house

is easily the most restless when cooped up in the van and prefers when they decide to camp at a campsite. loves sleeping outside.

Leo and Mikey are still close, but have a very highkey sibling rivalry over their differences of opinion with regards to the supernatural and what they're even doing

even still, Leo tries to stay close to Mikey to protect him (but Mikey often runs off so its a moot point)

unsurprisingly, Mikey is the strongest psychic of the bunch, and is in fact ridiculously strong. he can sense the presence of spirits, can communicate with them even if they haven't fully crossed over into our world, and can even do some minor mind reading and tell when people are being untruthful or compelled (he has to actively choose to do it though so his fam's privacy is safe. sometimes he gets visions of things that are about to happen. unfortunately he's also very vulnerable to possession and compulsion because of this, and cryptids are attracted to him, for good or ill. sometimes the things they cross are friendly or just looking for help, and Mikey is happy to do so! other times... not so much

April

she already believed in the supernatural before meeting the boys and meeting them just cemented her worldview for her

she loves ghost hunting/paranormal investigation for the thrill of it all

goes with the boys whenever she doesn't actively have to be in school; demands all the details when she can't be there

the one walking in yelling WHAT'S UP DEMONS, IT'S YA GIRL

along the way she picked up Mayhem and he's her pet now. he can teleport her to the boys if they need her help and she's still in New York

absolutely no psychic ability but she does have a bat

Yoshi

almost as powerful as Mikey, but retired

gives the boys lessons but otherwise usually stays in the van watching TV while they're actively investigating

only steps in if he thinks something terrible is about to happen

usually it's fine

[squarebracketsmileyface]

Answering this ask FOUGHT ME I swear to god. First I hit post before I was done writing and hadn't added tags or anything because it was just sitting in my drafts, and then when I rewrite it and went to save what I'd done TUMBLR FUCKING DELETED THE POST. The universe saw me being giddy over getting songs and went "well we can't have that" so now I'm writing it for the THIRD TIME (while my thumb is randomly going numb for some fucking reason lmfao. Like, I'm not cold, circulation's not cut off. It's just slowly losing all sensation 💀)

Anyway, attempt three!!!

Omg yes yes yes :DDDDDDDD okay okay, I won't do the whole lil "going through all the lyrics" thing I sometimes do because if I did this post would be stupidly long, but omg just know I've had these on loop almost constantly since I got this ask. They have all been put in their respective playlists now >:]

Wicked Game by Him has gone in the My Girl playlist, because:

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

This first verse really does feel like Jam to me. Like, they desperately wanna save each other, and the world is kinda on fire around them. And Jay never thought he'd meet someone like Tim let alone being loved by someone like Tim and have to worry about losing someone like Tim. Y'know?

Step On Me by The Cardigans is either going to go in the Tim Safewords playlist, or in the My Girl playlist, and I cannot decide so right now it's in both. I just can't decide if I want it in My Girl for foreshadowing, or in Tim Safewords for when Jay actually pushes too far and hurts Tim by accident. Like, Jays already stood on Tim's foot and Tim carried on anyway because he loves Jay and he really does want to help him and fix him.

I don't even have a specific lyric that made me go "oh yeah this goes in such and such playlist" it's just the whole song I think.

Perfect Girl by The Cure, definitely My Girl, that one's a given, Jark is indeed a strange girl and does need to be shaken and turned upside down.

Psychic Wound by King Woman... I also wanna put this in Tim Safewords BUT ALSO entry 80. I could put it in entry 80's playlist. I could. I so could.

Enslaved by the opinions, under seductive rule

Please rescue me, I've disobeyed and I admit I'm chained to you

Alex. Idk just Alex and the operator. After Alex kills Jay I have him kinda have this awful moment of clarity where he realises what he's done, and he's so overwhelmed by it that he tries to kill himself, but the Operator stops him so it can force him to continue his lil job for it.

Help me, I'm so chained to you

Someone tell me what to do

Feeling like a psychic wound

Like. This is Jaylex. This is Jaylex. In entry 80 neither of them know what to do, they need to be told, and Alex unfortunately has someone there to do it, that 'person' being the operator.

I do like it for Tim Safewords a lot, and Entry 80 is already like 60 songs strong which is far too many so idk where I wanna put it just yet. Another one that'll go in both playlists until I go through them properly again and make up my mind.

Pitch The Baby by Cocteau Twins is in My Girls playlist, I just like how it sounds, it's a fic that lets Jay and Tim have a little time and space to breathe and just enjoy each other, and the song's so pretty and like, floaty? Idk if that's the word I'm looking for, probably not but it's close enough, it's just a really nice feeling song. And like "I only want to love you" I think the lyrics say? Yeah, Tim only wants to love Jay, he just wants to use this lull in the constant, active threat of death to spend time loving on Jay a bit, teaching him how to let himself be loved and all that.

Daydream In Blue by I Monster is almost definitely going in Tim Safewords. It just feels like it fits, I think specifically because of some of what's gonna happen in that fic.

You're crawling on the bathroom floor

You float around the room and you're naked

Then you're flying out the bedroom door

Like, Tim has a bit of a freak out (for good reason) after he has to safeword, and he does end up on the floor in the bathroom, because he needs a moment on his own and that's the only room in his house with its own lock. And sure he doesn't NEED to lock Jay out, but he feels better if he can, so he does kinda, y'know, fly out of the bedroom door when he runs away to hide for a bit until he can get everything in his head under control a bit. And he's dissociating to high hell so he does feel like he's floating, y'know?

I dream a dirty dream of you, baby You're swinging from the chandelier I'm climbing up the walls 'cause I want you But when I reach you, you disappear

This bit also feels like the Tim Safewords fic, but kinda from Jay's pov more? Like, he knows he fucked up and he needs to make it right somehow, he needs to make sure Tim doesn't hate him, doesn't leave him, so even when Tim's hidden himself away somewhere unreachable (both in real life and in his head for... Reasons (mayhaps someone else fronts to handle the situation... Mayhaps someone split specifically to cope with Jay)) and Jay really does feel like he's climbing the goddamn walls to try and get him back, but when he reaches Tim, emotionally, Tim's gone, he's distant and cautious and Jay knows he's ruined it... And then they have to go to Benedict Hall together :D

Gonna pop a little warning here, the last song in here is one I'm gonna use to talk a little more about Jay's consent issues through, in case you don't wanna read that. Specifically it's talking about Jay trying to force Tim to choke him again, even though he knows Tim doesn't want to.

Reptilia by The Strokes... Yeah Tim Safewords, again. Look I can't help myself that fic's gonna be INSANE and everything reminds me of it. It's just... Consent issues, y'know? I love exploring Jay's consent issues, they're so interesting.

I'm literally just putting the lyrics to almost the entire song under this now lmao. Look, I can't help myself, there's not many lyrics and they really do feel like they could be talking about a dubiously consensual (or even a noncon) situation.

I was afraid that you would not insist "You sound so sleepy, just take this, now leave me"

I said, please don't slow me down if I'm going too fast You're in a strange part of our town

Like... Jay feeling like "god please don't take this from me, I need you to be rough with me, don't stop me, don't tell me not to, just let me put your hands on my throat, please" he's hoping Tim will change his mind and say it's fine, hoping Tim'll essentially say "yeah just take what you want" y'know?

Yeah, the night's not over, you're not trying hard enough Our lives are changing lanes, you ran me off the road The wait is over, I'm now taking over You're no longer laughing, I'm not drowning fast enough

'Tims not trying hard enough to care about my feelings about this, why can't he just see this from my perspective, I need him to be rougher with me' type shit. And then 'well maybe he's just scared of doing something I don't want, like he was scared of with trying out the feminisation stuff with me, so if I take over and put his hands there, he'll know it's fine.' and then 'oh fuck. I fucked up. Oh shit he looks fucking scared, he looks like he's sick, shit shit fuck shit fuck What'd I do what's wrong with me what the fuck!?'

Now every time that I look at myself "I thought I told you, this world is not for you" The room is on fire as she's fixing her hair "You sound so angry, just calm down, you found me"

Tim's gonna get to have a go at Jay for it, of course, he needs to make sure it gets through Jay's thick fucking skull that 'hey, you can't fucking do that what the fuck is wrong with you??? The world doesn't fucking revolve around you, did you stop for even a fucking second to think about what I've told about about why I don't want to fucking do that???'

[xenosagaepisodeone]

As much as copyright law sucks, its unfortunately one of the only legal venues with any sort of real power for artists working in creative industries to protect their livelihoods and colleagues. Unionization alone isn't going to stop companies from scraping people's work, especially not people who are non-union or freelancers, and unions like SAG-AFTRA keep throwing people who aren't making top-dollar under the bus for "ethical" AI startups they partner with anyway, even when said members call them out for siding with corporate over their own due-paying members. When corporations who normally try to shut down creators with DMCA takedowns are now violating the IP of countless creators themselves, why shouldn't we at least hold them accountable to the same laws they already use against us?

because it will not work. I truly cannot stress this enough, whatever meager personal gains that some industry artists are able to acquire in isolated cases against startups and other boutique tech ventures will set the precedent for which the corporations that actually control your country (who have infinite resources to expend on legal ventures) will use to push the law further in their favor. disney already does so much to prevent their IPs from entering the public domain! if you give them an avenue to exploit, they will do it! and it won't matter who was actually right because they have they have so much more money. artists and indie animation studios that could pose any threat to corporate monopolies on art will get C&D'd out of existence for superficial similarities. karla ortiz' lawsuit was so vaguely worded that you could hypothetically pursue someone legally if they had artwork of yours saved in a pinterest inspo board since CLIP models were framed as "trade dress databases". this entire movement is more concerned with potentially obstructed opportunities to rent-seek than it actually is about workers rights- or even simply art that was not created with the intent of being 'content'. and the same industry artists who spearheaded this frenzy will side the the corporations when it comes to it because they've already got theirs.

copyright is never made with the interests of individuals in mind. like, i can't even begin to explain how historically, the little guy is the one getting fucked over by copyright law! how so much of what shapes our culture exists in spite of copyright law as opposed to because of it. what drives me insane is how ai is the thing that artists end up rallying around in unity; not anything to actually improve the quality of life working within the arts, but instead a fad technology. i've seen people describe working in animation as being like a form of debasement and act like nothing can be done while i'm witnessing an entire movement unfold to protect that because a lot of artists seem to think of themselves as temporarily embarrassed small business owners over workers.

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

wip and a... life update?

Hi there. It's been a hot minute. I've been tagged by a lot of people to share multiple wips on multiple Wednesday. I haven't really engaged with you in a while, and for that I apologize.

Rambles, life updates and feels ahead, you do not have to read it all. I just want to say: thank you for being part of my amazing fandom journey. Without you guys, WYGTYA wouldn't be where it is today :'). I don't know how much I will be posting, but I want to finish my stories, because I have plans I am very excited about in terms of plot. But lately I've been pulled into other incredible fandoms and their contents just scream: CONSUME ME!! READ ME!! And it's all a bit hard to manage. Right now, I am trying to find excitement in the uncertainty of my future. Keep tagging me in WIP Wednesdays so this way I can post the parts that I have with Syndolin, too, and get a reaction and maybe not suffer alone about the fact that I ship him with Ravonna so much that I am considering updating this fic's pairings.

Relatable piece of chapter 18 of WYGTYA and Ravvy's feels about returning to Vivec:

Nostalgia follows her like a stray dog desperate for food. So desperate, in fact, that it might start eating her alive. It’s here, it’s there, it’s in every step she takes, and she didn’t know what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this. How do you come back to a place where you spent the best years of your life after you had to leave, forced like a knife out of a vital organ?

Anyway, you do not have to post a wip wednesday or anything, this is just to say 'thank you': @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @dirty-bosmer @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @illumiera @thelavenderelf @spooky-donut-ghost-house your comments kept me going and pulled me out of very dark writer thoughts more times than I can count <3 And to anyone who has the unfortune to have this on their dash haha, if you tagged me in a wip, or if you read my fic or interacted with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart <3 <3

Okay I'll spare you all and put the big-ass life update under the cut

Truth is, I'm doing very weird mentally. I'm at a point in my life where I truly have no idea what's next, and 2024 has been one of my best years, with two different exchange semesters and I don't know how anything will compare. I know I haven't been active on here anymore last year, but I grew so, so much as a person, and I realized that I am stronger than I thought. It may sound silly, but I keep patting myself on the back for being able to adapt and live on my own for a year in two different countries where I knew no one. I went in there not knowing a single soul and left with tears in my eyes and wonderful friends. People that managed to heal this heart of mine that I didn't even know was kind of wounded. People that I truly feel safe around to be myself with 0 judgement coming from them. People who I miss so much that it hurts somewhere in the core of my chest. But now it's over, and I'm back in my homecountry with mixed feelings. I love it here. It's home, right? It's my family, my besto friendo, and my original group of friends who all cannot wait to spend time with me. (which is another existential crisis all on its own. My absence led me to the realization that people actually miss me so much and actually love me and choose to spend time out of their day with me. And I don't want them to miss me, but I also want to be selfish and live for myself because I only have this one life) But is this home all the home there ever will be in my life? I don't think I want that. I want to travel more. Actually not just travel. I want to have so many different jobs in as many different countries, because everywhere I go, I tend to find a way to make it home, even though it's not a house (it's a city, a room dedicated for board games, a rented apartment with 4 other girls, a Ramen place, and about three different Irish Pubs)

To me it is surprising, because not even in a million years was I expecting to relate to my character so much. It's kind of blending together, blurry to where I don't know when art imitates life and I write and put her in situations similar to mine as a coping mechanism, or when life imitates art and I genuinely live through stuff that I was once only thinking about and putting in word documents for an oc who wouldn't've existed if I didn't start playing Skyrim in 2021. Anyways, I did the outline for the fic until Chapter 30 waaay back in 2022, and where I am at in the story right now, Ravonna is going back to Vivec, where she spent her college years, making friends and finding families. And while her story is much more intense than mine, I cannot help but shake my head with a smile on my face as I think about how just last week I visited Austria again, and reconnected with everyone and got very in my feels about the unbearably intense nostalgia that was raining over me the whole time. I don't know what the future holds (or if Ravonna is a self-fulfilling prophecy, if it is, I am kind of fucked because I have an ending in mind and trust me, my girl is not gonna have a good time most of the time) but what I know for certain is that Austria will always have my heart, and I will always consider that semester to be one of the best times of my life, and I am so happy with the synchronization, because now I have a chance to express a part of my emotions about coming back to a place where you spent your best time, through her story. It's very bittersweet, because you miss the place, and you miss everything, even when it's right in front of your eyes because you miss what you used to have then. I know I can visit whenever I want and that I have so many friends who are still there, but I still miss what I used to have then. I never really let myself enjoy anything in life as I did the last two months I spent there. Hell, I even miss that version of me. I miss being able to live in the present and sacrificing all the time and sleep just to see my friends. But it happened, and I am so grateful that it did. I will have the memories and the friendships forever with me. But this is life, isn't it? This is what it's all about.