#walnut never learned how to be Still :(

[mothdust23]

"Ms. Brooke, would you mind telling this one what kind of spell the man used?"

The witch sat in her favorite chair, pursing her lips. Minutes before, two strange creatures had arrived at her door and demanded to enter. When she refused, the first one produced a badge for a position that doesn't exist, and she decided the best way to deal with the strangers was to humor them. For now.

They were both short, not as short as some dolls, but definitely around 5 feet. They had unnaturally purple fluff and working eyes on their wings, and they were both surrounded by a faint teal aura that the witch recognized as angelical magic. Whatever they were, they weren't natural, but they were powerful.

"Oh, I wouldn't know. He failed to cast it and succumbed to Becoming. I've never seen someone suffer from such an affliction before, really. Wouldn't know the first step towards curing it."

She hated lying, but judging on how the two were moths of a nonsensical sort, she suspected they were sent by the fey.

..If they weren't fey themselves.

..The fact they knew her name was making that prospect more than slightly disturbing.

"No idea at all? 1287?"

The sitting one looked to the other, which was standing in the door cradling some sort of hologram in its lower hands. 1287, evidently.

"The house is clean" it says, looking back.

"...Is that all, er.. what did you say you two were? I must be getting back, my doll needs work done on its leg."

"One last thing, ma'am- you claimed the man Became in a mansion. Do you mind telling this one where?"

"Oh, I think I do," she says, slowly raising her parasol. "It's apparently bad luck to open one of these indoors, would you like to find out if that's true?"

The first one's antennae twitch.

"That will be all. Glory to Sanctity." it mutters out, escorting its fellow moth out the door. The witch flicks her parasol, and it slams shut, locking.

"...Walnut, dear, grab my coat. We need to check up on.. your old home."

"MISS!! THIS ONE HAS BEEN DISSASEMBLED THE WHOLE TIME!"

"...right. Sorry, coming.."

[dazai-wastelandbaby]

How does life with Dazai looks like?

The first time you meet he would ask you to have double Suicide with him, and when you ask him if he's okay? questions why he needs to die, distracting his mind to other topics. He'd be struck by how kind you can be to a stranger.

He'd follow you ofcourse, learn everything about your life, and you. The more he learns about you, the more he gets curious about you. How is that you are so kind and strong? Where does this resilience because he has learned all about your life and he will admit it, you've had it rough.

Next, he'd meet you accidentally again. You'll see him and ofcourse you ask him how he is? and he tells you the truth, you listen to him and he is suprised by your ability to not judge, can he trust you?

You become friends easily, you exchange numbers and talk to eachother almost everyday now. When you get off your work, you call him and on the weekends he'll *accidentally* stumble in your path, you slowly start to realize that he does it intentionally and you start slipping where you will be going on weekends to him.

You ask him about his birthday and gets him a bouquet of flowers with a card and cake for him, he keeps that card on his fridge. On your birthday, he gets you the book you always wanted to buy but could never find it anywhere, you hug him out of excitement and he squeeze your waist a little too longer.

When he proposed, You both were sitting in Lupin bar, and yes he has told you about odasaku because you have ways of getting things out of him without even trying. He planned everything out, he knew you'd say yes but why was he still nervous? You laugh when he proposes you and pull out a Polaroid picture of you two together, *will you be my boyfriend, osamu?* Written on the back of it. He teases you for being so desperate but you could see how happy he was. The picture stays in his wallet all the time now.

He introduces you to Atsushi after a while and slowly every single one of thr agency member *accidentally* stumbles into you (they couldn't help but wonder who made the suicide maniac wants to live). You realised after a third man stumbles in a week, claiming to be Dazai's co-worker. How do they know you? Ofcourse, because dazai kept flaunting around the picture of you two, you smile and entertain them. Dazai and you gossip about their behaviour afterwards. "Why does life seems like it's worth living?", Dazai thinks to himself.

When you guys move in together, everything falls into place. He'd pick you from your work, hold your hands and talk about nonsense as you silently listen to him, and ask him follow up questions. You'd both get home, and he cooks, somehow the man knows how to cook, you'd sit on the kitchen slab, and talk about things and he entertains your idea. He keeps a box of walnuts, right next to where you sit because he knows you like to munch on food while you talk, and he rather have you something delicious.

You guys don't fight, if he has a problem, he'd bottle it up but you are starting to learn his ticks and he is starting to learn communication. So instead of throwing stuffs at eachother, you guys cuddle on your sofa, you run your hands through his fingers while he talks about things. You make your point of your point of view and he does of his, in the end, it resolves itself.

except, when it comes to jealousy. You have learned to be careful about it, you know his isolation habits but you can't help it the way you gravitate people towards you. So if he is fucking you two roughly, or being mean to people, it means he's jealous. But not like you're good when it comes to jealousy, dazai is handsome and he has the look of sadness that every women wants to explore, so obviously when a women gets too close to him, you snap. You'd tell her to fuck in the most diplomatic kind way, can't say dazai doesn't love it but he keeps away from women, he hates how you snap at him afterwards.

How does he propose for marriage? Well, funny story, you tell him about how in ancient greek a guy used to propose with an apple and if the girl catches it, it means she accepts it. Guess what happened the next week, you are on a picnic date and he throws an apple towards you and ofcourse you catch it out of reflex. "You're mine now" he smirks at you, and the realisation hits you, but before you could say anything, he slips in a ring in your finger, it's gold band with a blue sapphire diamond. He knows you like blue sapphire, ofcourse he does. Do you cry? Yes. Does he cries? No but he visits oda and place and picture of you and him together on his grave, and when he says, "she stepped in my loneliness, thank you for showing me good side", the tears the slipped out then must have been because of dust.

[sol-lar-bink]

Made a whole bunch of characters for my Fayre Region setting! A lot of these have been planned for ages. Some are new!

I'll write a bit with each close up! So long post... beware!

Some names may change! Gelli might be swapped out for another fairy type... but we'll see.

Team Tera! A paldean Tinkatuff finds herself in the Fayre Region after hearing about the Diamond Domain next to one of the towns. She wants to investigate it, in search of Terastal crystals to see if they can be found outside of Paldea, a quest given to her by a researcher friend. She doesn't have permission to access the Domain... so she must work up in the Guild ranks to prove her worthiness!

She teams up with Gelli, a sweet, shy little Snorunt who's always been too scared to join the guild alone. She is a remake of an old Snorunt OC I never used.

Team Ore. Originally I was gonna pair up Tinkatuff with the Sableye, but after a recent Forretress post, I wanted to make one an OC, cos I love Forretress!!! They're part of the guild too, but they're not very good... they're still very low rank. A silly duo causing some mischief. Jerry is actively seen trying to sneak into the Diamond Domain to eat their diamonds and gems... Walnut on the other hand is a rather silly fella.

Skippy is a simple Skiploom, enjoying the sunny days and exploring the region to his hearts content. Good friend of Bink's!

Arrian is a Falinks who lost his platoon many years ago in a terrible battle... they all left him and got jobs elsewhere!!!! He's a bad captain, and is overly dramatic about losing his platoon. "Oh... how could they leave me so soon... in this cold, cold world... choosing to earn minimum wage instead of ADVENTURE...!" Think Meta Knight meets Zote lmao.

The two staff at a little cafe in the town! I have yet to name the town... I'm bad with names.

Delicia is the owner! Specializing in coffee, tea and biscuits. Galarian style... not Unovan biscuits!!! Sweet lady who's an expert at her craft.

And then Lorette! A shy, kind shiny Dolliv who both acts as a waitress in the cafe, as well as dealing with the savory options. She has a crush on Bink... but after learning of Himemi, she does her best to put her feelings aside to try and help wherever she can. Another good friend of Binks.

??????

This strange figure appeared shortly after Ultra Wormholes started opening up around the region. She does not speak, her actions seem... not her own. While she's caused some havoc and fear through the region, she's more scared of you!

[precupidarchive]

like a fool ─── (seventeen.)

HEESEUNG IS NERVOUS.

Not nervous in the way most people get when they hang out with someone they like. He’s nervous because he can’t remember if he renewed his Costco membership. The two of you sit in the back of Jaehyun’s Rav4. Jaehyun is the Lyft driver Heeseung ordered a minute ago.

You were surprised when Heeseung told you that he ordered a Lyft, because, “Hee, Costco is a ten minute walk from here.”

He coughed into his sleeve, cheeks reddening because he had forgotten like a complete idiot and said, “I can’t cancel now because Jaehyun is downstairs.”

So as Jaehyun pulls into the parking lot of Costco, Heeseung takes a light breath and forces a smile. So what if he left his membership card at home? You guys can just walk back to your shared apartment and walk back to Costco, right?

Wrong.

Who knows what you’ll tell your friends about this encounter? Ningning already wants Heeseung six feet under, so if she finds out that he not only made you take an ordered two minute car ride, but he also made you walk back home and back to Costco, who knows how much further she’ll want him gone?

The two of you bid Jaehyun goodbye and walk up to the entrance, when Heeseung gives you a pained smile, “I don’t think I have my Costco card on me right now.”

Your jaw drops in complete shock, stopping you in your tracks, “I haven’t gotten mine renewed since April. What are we gonna do now?”

Heeseung narrows his eyes. He has a good idea. Then he claps loudly, holding his hand out for you right after, “Let’s take a walk.”

The shy smile on your face makes him giddy as you interlace your fingers and let him lead you. The walk to your destination isn’t long, since it’s still within the downtown area, and it takes you a second to realize exactly where Heeseung is taking you.

Your jaw goes slack as your favourite restaurant comes in view, a squeak is let out, as Heeseung pulls you into the Joey Burrard location. He did some digging and found out exactly where you had dinner the night you were drunk crying. Fortunately, Ningning is actually quite nice once bribed with rare Pokemon cards.

Once the two of you are seated, Heeseung rests his chin in his palm, eyes gazing at you as if you were the only person in the restaurant. Biting back a smile, you look at him with your eyebrows raised, “Yes?”

“Tell me about yourself,” Heeseung replies. Three years of living together and Heeseung has never learned anything about you directly from the source. He’s only heard pieces and tidbits about you from his friends or your friends.

“Umm .. My name is Y/N L/N and I was born in Toronto, Ontario. My parents are divorced. I have an older brother. I took gymnastics since I was 4. I’ve spoken French since Pre-K. My favourite singers are Britney and SZA. My favourite Chiikawa character is Momonga. My favourite Disney movie is Tangled. My favourite ice cream flavour is maple walnut.” you rattle facts about yourself off the top of your head and Heeseung smiles.

Everything you say is true. You have a few gymnastics trophies lined up in the living room, your French sounds more fluent than Jimin’s, and he can always hear either Britney or SZA blasting from your speaker in your room. You’re always carrying around some fluffy white and baby blue squirrel looking merch with you and you’re always singing I See The Light from the Tangled movie soundtrack. You’re an amalgamation of past experiences that Heeseung’s never gotten to see, but either way, he looks at you and all he sees is a future with you.

Maybe in the future, he’ll be able to share a favourite thing with you. And maybe that thing will be a boba drink from a franchise other than Gongcha.

“Hey, welcome to— No way!” a familiar voice greets you from above and when the two of you look up, you’re greeted by Jake in a waiter uniform.

Great. Just great.

“What are you two doing here? Just chilling?” Jake asks, almost too excitedly. “Or are you two on a date?”

“Um, the second one,” Heeseung answers plainly. His eyes meet yours for a split second and he can see the way your eyes dazzle under the dim lighting at his answer. “We’re on. We’re on a date. Yeah.”

Jake’s smile grows impossibly wider and he claps his hands, “That’s great! Do you guys want drinks to start? Do you need more time?”

Heeseung’s eyes meet yours again and you nod at him, “I think I’ll order for the two of us.”

He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts you. You know what you’re doing, you come here on a semi-regular basis. Heeseung just hopes he doesn’t look like a fool.

You give Jake your order and as he’s writing things down, he looks at you, “How’s the project coming along?”

“Oh, the French one with Hoon? We’re pretty much done, we finished that night after everyone came skating with us,” you laugh, recalling the memory.

Heeseung feels a bitter taste in his mouth, hearing you call Sunghoon a nickname. Sure, you called him Hee earlier, but the way Hoon just effortlessly rolls off your tongue makes him kind of jealous.

Hopefully, tonight changes that and you’ll be calling Heeseung by a nickname too.

Jake finally leaves and you notice the pout that’s been sitting on Heeseung’s face, “Why you pouting, pretty boy?”

As if on cue, Heeseung’s pout turns into a wide grin, his heart pounding loudly in his chest and the blood pumping ringing in his ears. Maybe looking foolish tonight doesn’t seem like a bad idea afterall.

───

Jake brings the entrees and it seems like everything is going off smoothly, until you take a look at your steak and ravioli. The steak is burnt to a crisp and when you cut into it, the steak is well done. There isn’t any raw meat left.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look at Heeseung with a frown, “Well. I’m going to send it back. Try some of your food before I send this back.”

Heeseung takes a bite of his cod and it’s delicious. It’s like nothing he’s ever had before and the way he looks at you with puppy dog eyes has you laughing.

“You’re so cute, Heeseung,” you mumble. If you’re flustered, there’s no evidence of it. However, it’s very evident that Heeseung is flustered. He can’t look in your general direction and refuses to make any eye contact with you whatsoever.

Oh, how the turn tables.

Your food is sent back without any delay and you and Heeseung chit chat about this and that, until Heeseung goes, “What made you like me?”

You choke on your new steak, coughing, a fist pounding on your chest. Heeseung can only watch in horror as Jake comes up behind you to perform the abdominal thrust.

After a while, the steak you were choking on flies out of your mouth and lands on Heeseung’s plate. You and Heeseung look at his plate with your jaws dropped and then look at Jake, who frowns. “Um, I’ll try to get this replaced. Hold on.”

Heeseung’s plate is removed from the table and Heeseung is still gaping like a fish, “I am so sorry.”

You gasp, “No! I’m sorry! What the heck, you probably think I’m so gross and weird now!”

Heeseung hands go up in surrender, “No! No! I still like you— I still think you’re cute and pretty and funny and I still like you, don’t worry!”

Gasping again, your hands come up to cover your face in shock at Heeseung’s impulsive confession, but in the midst of it, you knock over the cocktail in front of you. The glass shatters on the ground and your classic negroni splatters everywhere. At this point, other patrons are beginning to look at you and Heeseung in wonder.

Hiding your face, you mumble, “This is a disaster.”

Heeseung frowns. The tone of your voice sounds clearly upset and for a first date, this is clearly a disaster. This was supposed to be everything you’ve ever wanted for the past three years, but now here you are: mascara stained tears around your eyes from choking, choking and spitting in front of your crush, and breaking the restaurant’s dinnerware. Heeseung can’t help but feel disappointed. He should have planned better.

He asks Jake for the bill and you can’t bring yourself to look at him, even if it’s just through your eyelashes. The pout on your face is cute though and Heeseung just wants to kiss you better.

It isn’t until Jake comes back with a one hundred fifty dollar dinner bill that Heeseung checks his pockets for his wallet. Both front pockets and both back pockets are empty. Huffing, Heeseung forces a smile as he asks Jake to bend over.

“Is it possible for you to get the meal comped?” Heeseung whispers. “She’s upset and I feel bad for putting her through this.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jake replies. He heads to the back to talk to the restaurant manager, leaving you and Heeseung to your own devices. Long gone is the sparkle in your eye, but the pout still lingers.

Heeseung reaches over to run a thumb across your chin, mirroring your pout, “Look at you, pretty girl. Pouting. I’m sorry.”

You mumble, “Sorry for what? It was me who ruined the date.”

“No, it was me. I should have planned it better and I shouldn’t have asked you that question while you were eating,” Heeseung replies earnestly. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Really?” you ask. The sparkle in your eyes return and Heeseung holds out a hand, to which you give him one of your own, and he places a light kiss on the back of it.

“Of course,” he grins when you bite back a smile.

Jake comes back with his own smile, “I just comped your meal!”

The two of you leave the restaurant after thanking Jake and bidding him a good night. You walk hand in hand again, but to your apartment this time. The smile never leaves your face once and when you close your bedroom door, Heeseung is surprised to hear you play Super Shy by NewJeans.

(sixteen.) / masterlist / (eighteen.)

summary. who cares if you’re desperate? who cares if you’re pathetic? who cares if you’re a loser? pay them haters no mind, because your roommate, lee heeseung, is gonna fall for you one day! fortunately for you, that day may be sooner than later.

taglist. @heesexual74 @tynlvr @wildtigerlili @pshfan0812 @aewon @heelovesmeknot @nicoleparadas @celli-ohs @beijinkaoya @tkooooop @enhypenlovre @rairaiblog @hexnoia @sucrosxi @heeheesang @mariwasneverthere @mwahvvis @starry-eyed-bimbo @leehsngs @firstclassjaylee @ningningiloveumarryme @danielleism @httpenhoon @strayy-kidz @bbsantc @immelissaaa @simjaeyunies @naevisringring @fa1rychain5

[maegoorskeep]

Sticky Note

summary: As some of the FOB soldiers are moved back to SoundView Stadium, you start to find notes around your shared quarters from Abby. It's a new thing from her, but you can't say you hate it. pairing : Abby Anderson x wlf!reader word count: 1.8k content warning: fluff, established relationship, canon setting, mentions of violence and death, emotional vulnerabiluty, mentions of disfunctional family, mild swearing, suggested sex. A/N: I read this while listening to 'Pillar of Truth' by Lucy Dacus.

SoundView Stadium wasn't much when you arrived there back then, more military than functional for thousands of people. You were a kid from a disfunctional family and somehow, the chaos of installation and turning this place into a real thing made it feel like home. At 15, you were already enrolled into the militia, running, brawling, shooting in infected's head like it was nothing and as you grew older, the more you moved places : Serevena, Eastbrook Elementary and now, in FOB, anything to keep you away from your parents.

The barracks there aren't exactly cozy. It's nothing like the Stadium, but you've learned to make them feel like home. Your bed is pushed right next to Abby's, piled high with blankets you've snatched here and there and your backpack. She always teases about how much of a mess your side of the quarters is, but never really complains about it. Your locker is just equally a mess, plastered with half-faded polaroids, doodles and candy wrappers taped in a strange collage. Art, you call it, beautiful junky art. Abby's is pristine, organized like her shit would judge her for not being neat. Old Fireflies habit, you want to believe. You were opposites in every single way, and maybe that's why it's been working for the last two years and even more since Owen and Abs broke up.

Unlike you, the young woman isn't much for talking, not about how she feels inside anyway. You never talked about how you should be a couple, it came naturally and somehow, it worked. When she opens up, it always comes in small, domestic ways : she'll bring your favorite walnut snacks from an old vending machine in some half crumbling building, she'll make sure that you've got enough ammo or that you walk on the inside of the road during patrols. Her love and affection are quiet, dropped there like it's nothing when, it's everything to you. And when you girls are called to move from the front back to SoundView Stadium in exactly two months, little notes starts to pop up from nowhere, maybe because you start to act strange and worked up.

The first one is stuck to the glass that holds your tooth brush. You're half-awake, hair a total chaotic mess and the shirt you were is half hazardly tuck in your underwear when you notice the yellow squared paper on the yellow cup.

『It's raining again, don't forget to wear your jacket. — A』

You blink for a second, squinting a little bit, but you still smile at the attention. When you get back to the room, Manny is already there with his bag, talking with Abby and they both pretend not to notice how you walk back into the room grinning like an idiot. And that? It's just the beginning because the second one shows up the next day already. It's tuck inside your camo thigh holster. You find it when your revolver doesn't want to get in.

『Watch your back today, infected been seen around. Need u in one piece. — A』

When you see her at the gates, Abby is already geared up and giving instructions to some squad. She sees you, she always does and when you wiggle your finger at her, one of her brow lift. You only tap your holster, but that's enough to make her shrug like it's nothing while her ears and neck turn bright red. That night, you make sure to let her know how appreciative you are, kissing and caressing her hair. Abby never asks but you know her enough to know she needs that.

"You're ridiculous," she mumbles, pointing the little Abby's love letters' metal ammo box on your nightstand.

"You started it, dummy," but the words makes you smile even more tenderly as you press a kiss on her hair.

And all this? It becomes a game, but not one of those games you play to win. It's not backgammon or one of those coin games Manny loves. It's just one that makes your chest light and your cheeks warm on a daily basis. The notes are everywhere. It's in your boots, stuck between the shoelaces. It's on your water bottle. One time, it's even folded inside your right glove, the one that you put on first, and god damn it, you like it. It's becoming a freaking routine that makes you closer to your girlfriend, like Abby is truly trying. And just because of that, you leave one note for her too. You stick it to one of her dumbbell like it's its place all along. The paper is pink, round shaped after you cut it like some kid working on an elementary school project.

『Let's sneak out to Serevena soon, I miss the hot tub :( — your hot roommate』

When Abs finds it later that evening after coming back from patrol, you are sprawled on the bed reading one of her book. Medea. You don't look up to her at first, but when she throw her rolled-up socks at you and you both laugh for a second because that's you, that's her, that's how you love each other. And that night, when it's so dark you can't even see each other and Abby's arms are wrapped around you, she whispers slowly that she'd be so down for a hot bath if it's with you.

Somehow, though, you never exactly find the time because the truce has been breeched. It's fucked up, you both hate it, but that's life here, in Seattle. Things get heavy so fucking quickly that you wonder how it did not turn sour earlier. Isaac puts pressure on everyone again, it's tiring and without any surprise your entire squad comes back half dead, half injured after a bad patrol not even a week later.

You're so shaken no one dares to talk to you when you get upstairs. You didn't say much either when you undressed and curled up under the blankets. Abby is tender that evening, she lies down beside you, kisses the nap of your neck and most importantly, she doesn't ask what happened in details. She'll read the report tomorrow, she'll know all the details anyway and tonight? Tonight, you're her girl and the blonde is here to have you until morning comes again and you're alone in bed.

『You did everything right. Don't carry the weight all alone. — A』

The note is sticked on the ammo box, waiting for you there and you read it again and again until you feel like waking up. It's not about feeling better until you get off the shower and dress up, but as you grab your bomber jacket, you find a new note, soft green paper and black sharpy letters that makes you cry for a hot minute or two... or five.

『If I could pull the pain out of you like a splinter, I would. — Abby』

That one you keep not in the little box, but folded and tucked in the inner pocket of your jacket, the closest to your heart. You don't even need to read it to feel its warmth, Abby's warmth seeping and bleeding into you in the best way possible. And when you're out there, patrolling the streets, walking from 2 to 4 and from 4 to 3 before being back to FOB, life seems a bit less dull because you know someone is waiting for you, and that someone can be super sarcastic and a bit awkward sometimes, but she also likes her shits being nicely put together in a way that makes sense and she reads books with a passion you've never seen in anyone. Most importantly, she loves you, and you love her, that's all that matter.

After a long shift out there, your body beaten by the rain, Abby is right there. She greets you with a smile, one of those that asks you not to say shit about her waiting for you outside instead of upstairs. You walk side by side, your hands brushing in that exquisite way until she opens the door of your quarter - of course she always keeps the keys on her - and you drop on the bed with a dramatic groan.

"I'm dead, I'm gone, I'm going to pass out right there," you whine.

Abby doesn't have to look up from her tidying to know exactly how your mouth form one of those pout you used to make to mock her at the begining and that you stole from her.

"You say that everyday, babe."

"And here I am, resurrected by your love and attention."

Despite Abs rolling her eyes, you can swear she's smiling as she get closer and closer and even closer at every second, until she slops down near you with a soft groan. There's a smirk on the blonde's lips and you roll on your stomach, raising your eyebrows.

"What's up with the smile, Anderson."

"There's a surprise for you if you fluff that pillow of yours, for once."

And it's your time to roll your eyes, but you look anyway. You reach out, and you first fluff your cushion like your life depends on it before grabbing the note like it's some nice present under a Christmas tree. Abby's hand rests on your waist as you start to read the longer memo, your thumb caressing the paper slowly.

『Sometimes I don't know how to say the stuff you deserve to hear and I hope you're not mad at me because of that because : you're everything to me no matter how loud and chaotic you get, or how many dumb theories you come up with regarding cute animals. I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world. I love you. — Abby』

That's a new habit, you notice as you trace slowly the letters of her name. Your eyes are burning with tears you try to push away and even if you press the not to your chest, Abby still worries she has done something wrong. Her lips press soft and tender kisses to your skin. That night, she reminds you exactly how much you deserve love and tenderness and affection. It feels good because Abs has this way of worshipping you like you're the sole deity on planet earth, and maybe you are to her. Somehow, you're not dreading SoundView Stadium anymore and coming back there. Abby will be right there, next to you, there's no doubt about it.

[bluu3berry]

Bird + Reaper!

This is not a ship child! More so a platonic gift :3 (coff I don't really partake in sansshipping anymore)

Their actual name is Deadbird, given by reaper. But goes by crow! Uses They/them!! Some lore and explanation towards them below!

Dont repost art

@anon-coke @scramble-eg @superbfirnacho

@phishyypawss @the-second-reason

Okay so Deadbird was a gift to bird sans by reaper! Using reaper and life Toriel magic, they made Crow for bird for a reason.

Bird sans lost his AU for almost the thousandths time and he was starting to give up, he was able with the help of other people leave, but still felt lonely and found it hard for himself to find friends.

He overall has gotten better mentally but was missing something.

Papyrus, he missed his papyrus. A lot, and it hurts to see the other senses happy hanging out with the other papyruses. Reaper spotted this, and alerted Toriel

(note I barely know the lore of powers of Toriel and reaper, these are headcanon)

With that Toriel gave life to crow with reapers help, however due to reaper touching grow at creation crows soul mixed with his magic, instead of being purely bird sanses magic it was his own.

He didn't care, and gave it to bird anyways...

Crow can't die. The touch of death already happened to them, so when bird soon passes crow will still be around... Right now crow is about the age of 10 :3!

Bird takes care of crow until he ends up ill and they find his heart has been slowly destoried to the point it can't hold is body anymore... at the age of 15 crow lost bird.

Crow info:

Cannot fly but uses wings for warmth and expression

Bird sans acts more like a brother figure then a dad, but fills both roles...

Crow absolutely sucks at art, and is still trying

Crow wants to learn how to fly like both of their parents but never can because of their wings.

Crow isn't a romantic or sexual child between, they're ment to be a platonic gift.

Crow does end up without bird as a father due to *cough* complications

Crow cannot stay around people for long or their soul will slowly rot and loose magic, because the dead part of crow still wants magic (like an atom wants to complete its outer shell) so. It trys and takes it but it never realizes it can't take it. It's just ripping the soul apart...

Crow and ink are very close, due to a few reason mainly over crows love for art.

Crow is autistic.

Crow can scream like a crow and likes walnuts!

CROW FUCKING HATES WORMS. EW!!!

[edges-of-night]

Oohh yay I'm glad you're back! I love your hcs sm. I do have a request if you have the time & if you like it: how the hobbits would try to impress their bookworm s/o?

I hope that life is treating you well :)

Thank you very much, anon! I hope you're doing good as well. I am still busy but had a lot of fun writing this scenario and hope you'll enjoy it!

Have a good start into the new week everybody!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Since Frodo himself is a bookworm, the two of you have probably bonded about your favourite stories early on. No matter if your tastes might differ or are almost the same – there is always something bookish to talk about with Frodo. The two of you like to read outside together, be in Bag End’s garden or under Frodo’s favourite tree. Since he is not one to boast or out to impress others, his gesture toward you would be more subtle: Perhaps you spoke to him about an old Elvish book once, and about two months later he would surprise you with just that book – probably from Rivendell, with artful binding in your favourite colours, just for you ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry isn’t really one for novels, but he does deep dives into history books from time to time. He has a few of those lying here and there in his place. His gesture toward you would probably be the most spectacular out of the four Hobbits: For a few days, he would make a huge deal of you not coming over to his place, only to finally throw a surprise party for you and reveal that he’s been building a gigantic bookshelf for you! (As well as a wooden stool for himself to reach the highest shelf, in the same fine walnut wood.) From the floor to his (admittedly not that high) ceiling, there is now enough room to have a second library right next to Merry’s favourite armchairs, for long nights of reading and philosophising.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Before he got to know you, Pippin stayed away from “those stuffy tomes” like Orcs from sunlight. Reading never really interested him much. All of that changes when he gets to know you – he is struck by how many books you devour in seemingly no time. To impress you, he would start making his way through books as best as he can, just to tell you how many pages he read that day with a proud smile. Perhaps he’d one day carefully ask you if you had any recommendations for him, since the dry classics are a real pain for him to get through. Pippin would probably have fun reading books others would deem scandalous!

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Being the huge romantic he is, Sam immediately falls in love with your reading hobby. He’d always check if anyone had new books or something you haven’t already read to make sure there wer always new worlds for you to dive into. If you were feeling down one day, he’d read you passages from your favourite book to cheer you up – or make up poems for you on the spot. To impress you, he would try and write his own book! It would be a collection of poetry or short stories, written into a book he has learned to bind by himself. Is all that a lot in addition to his usual gardening duties, resulting in long evenings or even entirely sleepless nights? Yes – but Sam loves doing all of it for you ♡

[mushroomates]

samwise gamgee headcanons:

enjoys doing the dishes and folding laundry

love language is quality time or acts of service

likes to give sprouts and seedlings to friends and neighbors

nerd about mushrooms and has a mushroom log growing in his closet

keeps a hoard of ladybugs to deploy at any time

windowsill is lined with old jars and bottles, filled with clippings for propagation

he gives the best slices of pie and best baked cookies to others. will keep “defects” for himself- they taste just as good

favorite cookies are “everything but the kitchen sink” where he throws a bunch of stuff into the bowl (fruit, pretzels, nuts) and puts it into a cookie

has like 80 pillows on every couch/bed/chair

in addition to the 50-something blankets also piled high

“please, have a seat” he says. ha, no. any surface you could possibly settle onto is adorned with elaborate spreads of throws and such.

has a fruitcake that is legit an heirloom. it’s so stale it’s a brick. you can use it as a doorstop, stepping-stool, or a bludgeoning weapon. (note: has been used for all. he once chucked it at a late night visitor. this is how he learned frodo takes late walks at night. this is also how frodo learned that sam has an arm on him)

his great aunt made it forever ago and honestly he doesn’t know if it’s still good. he keeps it around because it’s been with him so long he feels bad throwing it out.

likes pecan pie! goes nuts (pun intended) for it.

roast his own chestnuts, pecans and walnuts. has a strange grudge against macadamia nuts. (almost choked on one as a child)

very cozy. has scarves and mittens and even slippers (GASP) at the ready

likes to watch the rain with a cup of tea for hours on end

takes his tea with honey, two sugars, and cream. it barely counts as tea.

enjoys bubble baths.

guerrilla gardening. sam is a force to be reckoned with on this front. he is a strong advocate for native plants and will gut someone over deforestation.

carries a salt shaker filled with seeds everywhere. kind of just. shakes it around empty plots of land.

has a hostile land grab once a month and slowly expands the baggin’s garden by an inch, until it takes up nearly the whole estate.

has a great misconception about the appropriate amount to discuss you garden with someone. this is because:

he tends to talk about this to frodo, who will listen, good naturedly

frodo also prevents anyone from talking over sam or changing the subject

most hobbits are to polite (passive aggressive) and don’t have the skills to subtly change the subject in a way sam understands

and if he does recognize the effort he will avoid it

likes to try new recipes but at the same time never follows them

knows a great deal about farming hemp. this is because merry and pippin recruited him into their pipeweed shenanigans and now sam has unintentionally created a strain of the good stuff that has hobbits traveling miles to get their hands on

loves his houseplants like children. they have names and backstory and a rich inner life that he has created that could fill a book

is fighting a battle with english ivy at the moment and only slightly loosing it. it’s suffocating the tree outside his house and he’s not very happy with it.

[leodette]

The Greatest Gift of Them All | LN4

fandom: Formula 1

pairing: Lando Norris x OC (not named)

names/faceclaims: -

summary: he gave a 'gift', and because of that she quit; set in between 2021 - 2023

warning: age difference (older woman x younger man), unplanned pregnancy, single mother, mild angst

requested: yes / no

**********

She was hanging the wet laundry outside, letting the gentle summer breeze through her hair. She never used a dryer. Why buy such an expensive piece of equipment, when you have a whole garden outside, with strings tied under the pergola, just waiting for another basket of laundry?

Also, it smelled better. She hated the too-artificial smell of softener, preferring sun and wind against it. That was how she was raised after all.

She took another piece from the basket, shaking it a bit and smiling when she saw what it was. A small dark green T-shirt, with a picture of a red car on the chest. She remembered it when she saw it for the first time - opening a package from her cousin and his wife, taking out that t-shirt and a cat plushie with a big bow around its neck, remembering the tears that rolled down her face when she thanked her cousin for such a pretty gift.

His eyes were green…

She shushed her mind, not allowing herself to walk that path again. Instead, she just hung the t-shirt on the string, making sure it was straight and would require minimal ironing once it was dry when a giggle interrupted her thoughts.

Too high for it to be her father or her brother, she smiled gently as she looked towards a small sandbox under a walnut tree in the middle of the garden. A small boy was sitting there, playing with a yellow plastic ball. His dark curly hair was making a small halo around his head, already growing too quickly and being so unruly that she gave up, his eyes being probably the only thing he got from his mother. Otherwise, he was a carbon copy of his father. His father who had no idea he had a one-year-old son. Who would never know that he had a son if she had anything to say about it.

---

She was always just an average girl from a small town in a small country. There was nothing special about her. She was on the quiet side, didn't like the attention much, experienced bullying all the way through secondary school and high school… and then suddenly, she was at university. And she learned how to fly. How to open her wings and show people around her that she wasn't a scared pigeon, but a beautiful parrot, who found her voice.

And her voice she found. When she changed her job for the second time in two years - claiming one was too stressful and the other too boring - she decided to be bold. Playing the card of herself being outspoken, she managed to send her resume to McLaren while writing another boring article about local politics in early January. Mostly as a joke, a dare, not expecting to hear from them, that email being buried in her sent box, without much more attention.

But, then the answer came. With a request for a video interview.

To say she was shaken would be an understatement. She was. At first? She thought it was a prank, spam, a mistake. But it was not.

And so two days later she connected to a Zoom call with McLaren HR and the head of their communication, being asked about her experiences and about her visions, where she saw herself in five years, and why she wanted to work for them. It was a school book example of a proper job interview for an international corporation. 

In the final, two other people connected, and she was introduced to them, asking her own questions, and then promised to be let know about the results. Which came in another two days.

We are informing you that McLaren Racing would like to offer you a work contract…

She still remembers the words to this day, she even printed the response and put it on her fridge after she stopped jumping around and screaming with excitement.

And so she left her hometown, her home country, and went to the UK, to MTC, to start working for one of the biggest companies in motorsport.

And that was where she met him.

… green eyes and freckles and your smile In the back of my mind…

Is that how Taylor sings it? Probably. But that was how she felt when she was first introduced to him. He was young, only in his third season in Formula 1, but he still took her breath away.

Looking back, she had it coming. She always had a thing for either boys that were younger than her, or much older than her. The same age? Not interested, thank you very much.  (Her therapist said one day that maybe it's the result of her being bullied by boys of the same age. If it was true, she would never know.)

But there she was, seemingly unnoticed easing her way into Lando Norris's life, being the one who kept track of his timeline, who was looking after his things - his passport gave her a number of headaches and few missed flights - and who sometimes had to confiscate his phone.

But otherwise? They were good. They found a common ground.

She was three years older, and sometimes their relationship resembled younger brother and older sister. Or maybe a babysitter. But they were good, having a very similar sense of humor, and few similar interests, and he seemed to enjoy when she talked about her home, about how her country was different from his. He hated it when she spoke her mother tongue, not being able to understand a word she said, and she soon learned to provoke him with it, on purpose calling her parents or her siblings when they were stuck in a car or waiting for like a driver's meeting or for media day. And he hated her for it but still seemed curious. Sometimes though, there was a palable tension. She knew he looked at her as a man would look at woman. She knew that look. But in that time, she wouldn't ever dare to jeopardize her job with something like a mild feeling of a shared attraction.

They managed that for some time until Sochi came. Looking back at it, she should never have gone into his room to check if he was okay. Looking back, she was berating herself for being stupid.

Because the tension that was building between them for the past few months snapped that fateful evening. Some people say that there are two best ways to let the frustration and anger out - punch it out, or shag it out. That evening, they did the second.

She sneaked out of Lando's room in the early morning, her hair a complete mess and her bra missing as she wasn't able to locate it in his messy room. He secretly put it in her back later that day, together with a teasing smile, that she returned with difficulty. They never did it again, and they never spoke about it.

The tension between them changed since that day, especially from her side. It became weird. Yes, she sometimes slept with younger men. But never with those she worked with. Even Daniel seemed to realize something shifted. And when almost two months later she ran out of her hotel room in São Paulo in desperate need of find pharmacy, she knew she was in trouble. Especially when two lines appeared on a cheap plastic stick, changing her life forever. She was scared, freaking out in her hotel bathroom, having a horrible reality check, and on the outside presenting herself as if everything was all right.

She couldn't tell him. He was with Luisa at that time already, the girl being an absolute darling, stunningly pretty, a perfect match to Lando's still-in-my-teenage-years personality.

So she waited. Suffered from nausea in private, kept to herself, no longer mingling around the paddock, going out only when she had to.

She watched together with the rest of the world how the young Dutchman snatched the championship from the more experienced Brit, throwing the world of Formula 1 into controversy that would not stop in the upcoming years.

After that, she handed in her resignation, never telling anyone her true reasons, stating homesickness and never-ending traveling as the main reasons.

She hugged Lando in the privacy of his Adu Dhabi hotel room, wishing him well, He looked sad that she was leaving but promised her that they would keep in touch.

They never did.

Throughout the upcoming weeks, there wasn't a single message from no one of her former co-workers. Not to mention Lando himself. And one evening, her patience reached the limit. She deleted her Twitter and Snapchat, went through her followers on Instagram and threw out everyone who even slightly could connect her to Lando, then put it in private settings. Similar to her Facebook, where she deleted almost everything, keeping it mostly for texting with other people through Messenger.

She, seemingly without care, cut off the last year from her life.

But, well, she did care. She grew angry more and more throughout the following months. She didn't delete Lando's number from her phone. But he didn't call, didn't text, and she wasn't the one who would kick the conversation out. It was like they never existed for one another. Yes, she knew he had a busy schedule. But even in his daily calendar, she knew he spent an ungodly amount of time on his phone.

And as her anger grew, so did her stomach. Her parents never asked anything, just accepted the fact that the father wouldn't be in the picture, not even to pay the child support. She didn't want it. Her grandparents left a small inheritance to their three grandchildren, and she soon found a remote job for a PR company in her hometown. Her mother accompanied her to her ultrasounds, crying softly when she saw the small form of her first grandchild on the screen.

She asked the doctor not to tell her the gender. She wanted to be surprised. And she was, when in the middle of July of the next year, a small form of her son was put on her chest, his dark curly hair still wet with blood and fluids, and her being sweaty and her voice hoarse from screaming in pain.

She named him after her own father, a person who supported her without fail throughout those past seven months, and in his birth certificate she left the space under name of the father blank.

Her baby boy got her surname, and after recovering, she moved with him into a small garden house at her parent’s property, just a few steps away from her family. Besides his looks, he got nothing from his father.

She never told anyone beside her parents who the father of her son was, not even the father himself. He stayed in the darkness, blissfully unaware of that fact.

---

Her mother asked her one evening when she put her son to bed, if she ever planned on telling Lando the truth. She just snorted. She was twenty-six, had a one-year-old child, had a job, and he never once reached out to her. Not a single time.

If she ever had anything to say, he would never know he had a son. Once her boy was a bit bigger and started to ask after his Dad, then she would have to come up with some explanation. But for now? She could keep him blissfully in darkness, enjoying the feeling of being the most important person in his life.

Her and Lando's lives didn't align. They weren't compatible. They were like Sun and Moon, like Heavens and Hell.

Maybe it wasn't her plan - being a single mother, still living at her parent’s property, considering her own mother as her best friend and biggest help. She had imagined her future. But, as she always said - if you want to entertain God, tell Him your plans.

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 61 : Red Son and the little monkeys

Bonding time between Rumble, Savage and Red Son. (Red Son is questioning their sanity).

Red Son wasn't one to hang out, as others called it, with people. In truth, he liked the silence of his laboratory way more than the chattering voices of busy-people. But his mom called him over and Red Son wasn't one to disobey, especially when he craved his parents’ acknowledgement this much. He knew his father was discussing something important with an old acquaintance, and his mother seemed to get along rather well with this acquaintance's mate, so he was stuck with the kids. He didn't expect them to be so… little. But no matter, he just needed to spend some time with them.

He had both little monkeys in his palm. One had light-brown fur, with swirls of red on her back. She looked up at him with stars in her eyes. Red Son learned her name was Savage. The other had a darker fur, like walnut wood, with swirls of gold on his back. He looked up with crossed arms, his name was Rumble. They were very little. No taller than one of Red Son's fingers. He worried about what would happen if he let them fall. He had to be careful. Also he had to remind himself to not accidentally crush them.

When Red Son lowered his eyes, he was surprised to see that only Rumble remained on his palm.

“What? Where is the other?” Mumbled Red Son. Rumble wasn't phased by his sister’s disappearance, he huffed and nodded towards Red Son’s arm. The fiery boy looked down and saw the little she-monkey climb his arm. “Huh, what are you doing?”

“Getting close to your hair.” Huffed Savage, as if it was obvious. “It caught on fire last time, I wanna see.”

Red Son sighed, he stayed still for a few minutes, not knowing what to do.

“Stop messing around with him, Sav.” Snorted Rumble, his sister huffed, unwilling to go down. Red Son hesitantly reached for her and plucked her out of his arm, he then put her on his shoulder. Savage chirped happily. She pawed at his cheek and touched his hair with fascination. “She'll stop after a bit.” Hummed Rumble. “So your name is Red Son?”

“Yes, that is correct.” Nodded the fiery boy. He put the little monkey on his laboratory's table. The silence was gnawing at him. He didn't know how to go from there. Should he initiate some kind of small talk? Rumble looked at him with piercing eyes. As if judging every inch of him. Red Son gulped, he grabbed a bowl of fruits laying around and pushed it towards the lil monkey, a meager offering. Rumble snorted. He climbed inside the bowl and walked on the fruits, he then cut a tiny piece out of a mango and gulped it down.

“So you build things here?” Asked Rumble with a more amicable tone, apparently Red Son's offering worked. The fiery boy sighed, relieved.

“Yes, all kinds of things.” Huffed Red Son, regaining some of his usual pride. He began to blabber about his inventions, Rumble indulged him, asking questions now and then. It was all and all a peaceful time, Red Son even relaxed a little, but then they were interrupted by a loud deafening sound.

They both flinched and looked in the sound's direction. Savage was on top of an engine, an engine in construction to be more precise. She was making it smoke. Red Son didn't even know it could do this, how did she manage this? More than that, how did she get down his shoulder without him noticing!

“How did you get there?” Spluttered the fiery boy.

“Red Son, Red Son, Red Son.”Chided the tiny she-monkey, as if she was an old woman wiser than them. “One thing you learn about me is that I'm never where you expect!”

“She summoned her cloud, we learned the trick with Pa, that's why she's so fast.” Huffed Rumble.

“Rum! Don't tell on me like that! What about our sacred super secret twin oath!” Whined Savage, crossing her arms petulantly. Rumble stuck out his tongue. The lil she-monkey gasped dramatically and put her hand on her chest.

Red Son sweatdropped, well at least this day wasn't boring.

+ cut scenes

Savage : We have to swear to never reveal each other secrets!

Rumble : what are you talking about? 🤨

Savage : it's the twin oath, Rum!

Rumble : The what now? 😑

Savage : I'll give you my deserts for one week. 😮‍💨

Rumble : Oh the twin oath! Okay, yeah, got it. 😌

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! firstly, thank you for your dedication its all so wonderful, I’m very grateful for this account since it can be difficult for me to search for things comfortably, the work you do is lovely<3

I was wondering if there were any canon compliant fics you could direct me to? Just casual stuff built upon the foundations of canon, maybe flashbacks of believable interactions Aziraphale and Crowley could’ve had, or a hangout set after S1 thats not necessarily romantic, but still with that lovable tension they have together in canon! It’s hard for me to find fics that aren’t inherently sexual or that show that intricate relationship they’ve built over the years instead of just mentioning it,,

any p.o.v., I’m also fine with both ficlets and multi-chapter long fics :] Sorry if this ask is too specific!

Hi and thank you! Okay, so I'm hoping these are the kind of fics you're looking for. Various levels of romance and feelings, but all inherently about how they care for and communicate with each other...

De Amore by Aethelflaed (G)

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy...

Papercut by Mirach (T)

When Aziraphale calls Crowley to tell him that he is hurt, the demon rushes to the bookshop to find a perfectly healthy angel - with the exception of a tiny papercut. But Crowley knows - it’s not about the papercut at all. The papercut is just an excuse.

Twin Suns by IneffableDoll (T)

“I thought you were gone,” Crowley mumbled, and it was almost cliché, it was almost the kind of sentimental rubbish he would’ve moaned at had he heard it from someone else. But they were the rawest words he could manage. He’d thought Aziraphale was gone. That was all, and it said everything. *** Directly following their celebratory meal at the Ritz, Aziraphale and Crowley clash with the feelings that struggle to settle after everything they’ve been through. And, in so doing, learn to rely on and communicate with each other in new ways.

The Innovation of Friendship, and the Capacity for Non-Abstract Love by AnonymousDandelion (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages as a pair of affection-starved walnuts fall in platonic love/friendship, struggle to understand their feelings, and struggle even more with expressing those feelings to each other. Featuring six thousand years of loneliness, mutual pining, musings on the nature of friendship and love, and ultimately a happy/hopeful/hug ending.

Something to do with these sacred words by Solshine (T)

Crowley confesses early, and Crowley confesses often. Aziraphale never knows quite what to say.

Between the Lines by cyankelpie (G)

Crowley took a gulp of ale and gestured with the mug. “Love’s a big word. How can you be sure? Humans mistake these things a lot.” “Angels don’t. If they knew I could feel it, maybe they’d try to tone it down a little.” Crowley stopped moving. Aziraphale was still talking, but he couldn’t hear over the pounding of his pulse in his head. “You can feel that?” he said, when he regained enough of his composure to put together a sentence. “Yes, I—” Aziraphale broke off just for a moment, and his eyes flicked down to the table. “Yes, I can feel it, Crowley.”   (It's hard being two supernatural entities on opposite sides who are in love with each other. It's even harder knowing that those feelings are returned, and that acknowledging it openly would be disastrous.)

- Mod D

[zaceouiswriting]

The little brother

Character: Reggie Mantle and Male Reader older brother

Universe: Riverdale

Warnings: Just a little violence

Why did you have to agree to this? Why did you let your parents drag you into something like this? Why couldn't you just stay in Cambridge where your parents couldn't reach you? But no, you had to crawl back as soon as they called. Your father knew full well that you still sought his approval after all these years, and he pulled on your heartstrings until you agreed to return to their home and look after your brother for a few weeks. Because he apparently wasn't doing well at school.

But nothing was as it seemed. When you entered the house you called your childhood home, there was not the little boy who always wanted to be near you, but a moody teenager, almost of age, lying half naked on the couch, showing off his perfectly sculpted upper body.

The moment Reggie saw you, his face contorted with anger.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked with a harsh tone, very different from the loving voice he had used towards you as a child.

Already done with this shit, you drop your bags to the floor still at the front door. Eye rolling, you closed the door behind you and went to your lazily sitting brother.

“Our parents thought it would be good for me to come here and look after you while they are away. They hope I can jog your walnut-sized brain.”

Your brother mocked you dismissively. After which, he stood up from the couch and walked towards you. The two of you were at the same level, staring into each other's eyes. He became noticeably taller, and you couldn't miss how wide he was getting. Football seemed to be good for him. You never liked team sports, mostly because you were a cowardly child who hated exercise.

Reggie suddenly tried to push you, but you stood your ground, your eyes glowing fiery. You, too, have become stronger thanks to the gym.

“Oh, I see. You’re trying to mark your territory like a dog? Or do you want to test who the man in the house is?” you asked him, grinning widely as his face turned into hatred.

You could see the movement of his arms before he even tried to hit you. You duck away with ease, only to give him an uppercut. He flew onto the couch. But somehow, he quickly got back on his feet. In the meantime, you got yourself into position, already prepared for your stubborn brother to jump back to his feet.

“Trust me, baby brother, this won’t be a good idea.”

You tried to get him to stop his stupid behavior you really tried, but he didn't listen. He thoughtlessly tried to attack you again, but you knocked him down even faster than before. You weren't the best boxer, but you learned quickly.

With just two hits, you knocked out Reggie. Looking down at your brother, you could only sigh. Was he always so hateful? Or is he still angry that you up and left when you were sixteen?

Your brother was obviously an early bloomer. He was already goddamn handsome. It took you years to get anywhere close to it. If you were honest, you were pretty jealous of it. You were almost twenty-three, and your little shitter of a brother was barely seventeen, and yet he looked just as good as you. Maybe a few more hits could help?

Before you could demolish his face out of jealous reflex with your fists, you shook yourself out of these thoughts. Instead, you placed one arm under his upper back and one under his legs. With some effort, you lifted your brother into your arms.

“Shit, you’re heavy,” you said through gritted teeth.

Carrying your brother upstairs to his bedroom, you carefully lay him down on his soft bed, breathing a sigh of relief as his weight was lifted from your arms. Even after years of training in the gym, you couldn't have carried him any longer than this.

You gently put the blanket over him and check his pulse to be on the safe side. Feeling like everything was fine, you looked around.

With a growing headache, you knew you couldn't leave his room in this chaos. He was such a clean freak as a kid, but now he's grown into what you were as a teenager: a hurricane.

You took out hidden fast food rappers, something your parents wouldn't allow their star athlete son to eat. Some dishes that could almost walk, and of course clothes. His room smelled like a high school locker room. You didn't mind the smell since gyms don't smell much different, but it unsettled you inside. For just a second, a fleeting moment, you imagined your brother in an inappropriate way that shocked you to your core. You never thought you would think of your brother like this. To be fair, the asshole has grown into one hell of an attractive guy.

After you cleaned his room in record time, you stared at his sleeping silhouette for just a moment. He still looked as sweet as ever. You walked close to him. As you stood in front of him, you gently brushed some strands of hair out of his face and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. A bedtime ritual you had when you were both younger.

“Sleep well, little shit,” you murmured against his head with a big smile, hoping he wouldn't remember anything the next day.

As you moved away from him towards the door, a sudden grab on your arm turned you around, only to be pulled into someone, your brother. In his sleep, he somehow managed to grab you and pull you into him. As you lay on his bed, he immediately laid his head on your chest, wrapped both arms around you and one leg as if you were a big pillow, and just slept.

Initially, you were stunned by the situation but soon found it amusing, to the point where you almost busted out laughing. However, you managed to stop yourself just in time. Instead, you placed your right hand on your brother's head and gently stroked it. You knew Reggie was a deep sleeper, and it was unlikely that he would wake up anytime soon. So, you prepared yourself for a long day ahead of you.

[Masterlist]

[lauralot89]

The Saga of My Light Fixtures

or, Poor Decisions with Lauralot

In 2018, when my house was being built, the contractors told me to pick out what lights I wanted but did not tell me what the budget was for lighting. So I picked out what I thought were some reasonably priced lights, including your standard overhead lights for most of the house, two bathroom vanity lights, and two ceiling fan lights, all in black.

They came back and told me I was wildly over budget, and that they had lights they'd bought wholesale that they could use. I agreed, still not knowing what the budget even was, and asked if it would be in budget to use my selected vanity and ceiling fan lights, with the rest of lights being what the contractors had on hand.

Foolishly, I assumed that the lights the contractors had would also be black.

They were not. They were oil-rubbed bronze.

Like this, except the glass was amber-tinted.

Yes, those are boob lights. No, I don't really care about that because a) my hands are arthritic and mildly deformed and it's easy to change the bulbs in these fixtures and b) it would cost too much to replace all of them and c) for reasons I'm about to elaborate on, trying to swap them out would be a terrible idea.

The boobage did not bother me; it's not like I sit around staring up at my ceiling lights anyway. What bothered me was the amber tinting, which combined with my soft white bulbs made everything look vaguely yellow, and the fact that they were not black and so looked weird next to my ceiling fans and bathroom vanities.

"But didn't you just say you don't spend time staring up at your lights?" Listen I contain a multitude of contradictions all right

I learned that you can use acetone to remove amber tint from glass, so I did that with all of my ceiling lights. That alone vastly improved things, but it made the oil-rubbed bronze all the more apparent to me.

And so, this past weekend, I decided to paint the light fixtures. I turned off the circuit breakers to certain rooms, taped them off to make sure they wouldn't flip back and electrocute me, and then I unscrewed the light fixtures from my ceiling and took them outside to hit with some primer and black spray paint.

Except the spray paint wasn't black.

You know how the cap on spray paint is the color of the paint? Well, despite the cap looking black in the fluorescent store lighting, the soft white lighting of my house, and the SUN, it turns out I had actually bought dark walnut.

Now, the breaker for my living room is also the breaker for my garage. Where my car is. So there was no going back to the store.

Thankfully, I had some black spray paint on hand already from an old cosplay project. I had only gone to buy a new can in the first place to make sure that I wouldn't run out.

So I spray six of my thirteen light fixtures, wait for them to dry enough for me to handle, and then go to put them back.

I could not get them back on the ceiling.

I tried everything. I tried putting the screws through the holes in the light fixture and then trying to put them back in the junction box, but they kept falling out. I tried putting them in the junction box first and sliding the light fixture openings over the heads of the screws, but they wouldn't fit. I became increasingly concerned that I would never have lights in my living room again.

So I braced myself for terribleness and called my father, who works with electricity for a living.

"Wait, if you were doing electrical work why didn't you call him in the first place?" Because he's an abusive rageaholic and I try to limit the time spent around him to as little as humanly possible, that's why.

I made two fatal mistakes here: One, I involved my father. Two, I forgot that he has glaucoma, and the lighting in my living room was currently absolute shit because the breaker was off.

He showed up, berated me for daring to touch electrical wiring because I could have injured myself/burned down the house (it's good to know that your opinion of your own child is so low) and then smugly told me he'd show me how it was done. Only to stop short when I handed him the screws.

"This is what you took out?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"...Yes?"

"These are drywall screws."

So if you've never installed/messed with a ceiling light fixture, here's how it's supposed to work. In the ceiling, there is a hole cut out of the drywall/plaster/whatever, and in the hole is a plastic container called a junction box. This is where the wires for the light fixture sit. The junction box should have two screws sticking out of it, and your light fixture should have openings that slide over the head of the screws, and then the screws are tightened to hold the fixture in place. There are specific screws for this task. I believe they're usually 8/32s and are 7/8ths of an inch.

But I guess the contractors didn't buy them or something, because every light in my house is connected with drywall screws. Two problems with this: First, the heads of the drywall screws were too big for the openings in the fixtures, and second, the drywall screws were too big for the pre-built threaded screw holes in the junction boxes, and fucked them all up.

So, needless to say, he could not get the light fixture back on. Also needless to say, he started screaming and cursing. I never should have done this, the lighting in my house was shit, my flashlights were shit, etc. But he's not mad at me, of course. He assured me of that while screaming and knocking things around. He then left to go get better flashlights.

Now at this point, he thought I had taken down two light fixtures, because there are only two in my living room, where we were. But in actuality, I'd taken down six. So I panicked. I ran to one of the other rooms, put the screws in the junction box as best as I could, and then beat the hell out of the light fixture, denting the back plate in the process, until it fit over the screw heads. I assume this is what the contractors must have done as well.

I didn't touch the lights in the living room, though. Mostly because my father screamed at me not to touch anything when he left, and also I knew that if his idiot child managed to fix what he couldn't, he'd be even more outraged and probably take it out on my mother who is inexplicably still married to him.

He came back, with a headlamp and flashlight, and proceed to get one light back in place (while yelling at me for holding a flashlight incorrectly, of course), but could not get the other. The screw threads in that junction box had pretty much been decimated and one of the screws would not stay in place at all and the other one only kind of sort of would. Of course there was more screaming. Of course the people who installed my lights were fucking ignorant and should be hanged, etc., etc. He told me he was going home and was going to find new screws and come back again another day, but he had no idea if it would work, because the threads in the junction box were so fucked.

The second he left, I went back to my tried and true method of making it work through violence and despair. I was able to get the one screw to stay in place long enough for me to force the light fixture over it, and then I screwed that one down and used a flashlight to move the fixture until I could see the second hole. I then screwed that in place as well. I doubt that second screw is bearing any weight, and I'm not sure how much the first one is holding either. So it's entirely possible that one day I'll walk into my living room to see that the whole thing has fallen out of the ceiling. But that is not this day.

I texted my father to let him know I'd fixed it.

He said "Good job" and hopefully we will never speak of this again.

Now at this point I was out of spray paint, but I'd already resolved that I was not taking any of the other light fixtures off the ceiling anyway, lest this happen again. Instead, I've ordered some regular half-pints of paint from the same manufacturer and I'm just going to paint the remaining seven light fixtures while they're on the ceiling.

Also, when I took down the light in my bathroom, one of the wire connections was missing a cap? Not like it had come loose, mind, it was just never there. And I couldn't go to the store and buy a new cover until the lights in my living room were fixed because I couldn't open the garage. Great to know that there's been an uncapped, active electrical connection in my ceiling for the past seven years. How am I alive?

Also also, the entire time this was going on, I was sweating bullets, and only partially out of fear of my father. Turns out my ventilation was also on the living room breaker.

And the coup de gras: Before I even flipped any circuit breakers or started messing with any lights, I noticed that one of the light switches for the living room wasn't working. The lights weren't burned out; the other switch turned them on and off just fine. But one had just disconnected itself, I guess.

Now, my father had already been at my house recently to bitch about my dryer/toilet (I did not invite him, he invited himself) so I decided not to mention it at that moment, and that I could bring it up later, after I'd already fixed the light fixtures.

Well now I'm not going to bring it up for at least a month, if not ever.

Anyway, the lessons here are: Lower your standards, and also go completely no contact with your terrible parent when you move out, or you end up enmeshed like this.

So here's the finished product! Was it worth it? I guess. Not really. Maybe I'll feel differently when I've had more time to lick my wounds.

Yes, my ceiling texture is hideous. No, I'm not doing anything about it, because we've seen how my home improvement efforts go.

[meagenimage]

Banter

Superheroes these days don't know how to banter properly. It's all quippy one-liners designed to show they're not really treating any of this seriously. The only time they ever actually communicate is when the fight is against someone who wronged them personally, and then it's the minimum reminder of what they're specifically mad about, delivered all stoically like "his name was Bob and he was my friend" or "some of the old takeout in there was still good and I had to throw it all away".

Earnest back-and-forth banter is a necessary part of the job. Punching or blasting or eye-beaming you enemies into submission is only a temporary measure, if you want to effectively remove threats you have to be a sort of combat therapist. You don't aim to befriend them, even if it often works out that way in the end, but you gotta understand where they're coming from.

I've said before that as a superhero, you are a symbol, and whoever goes to the trouble of getting a themed outfit and a codename to challenge you is essentially engaging you in a debate. (But with more property damage.) You can't just brush that off with quips speculating about their background and family life. Engage them honestly and ask what they are hoping to accomplish. You'd be surprised at the amount of problems you'll discover that you never knew about! Even "nothin' personal, I'm just gettin' paid" is a thread to pull on, because now you're thinking about people who have that kind of money and benefit from you being tied up in this fight.

The first rule of good banter is to let your enemy go first and match their energy. If they lead with a rant about how you've been a thorn in their side for too long, don't just cut 'em off with a "who are you again?" or "get to the point". That's not clever, it's just rude. Yeah, it pisses them off, and I guess if your combat strategy depends on the other guy being too angry to think straight then you do you. But if you ever want to hear your codename being bellowed in honest, heart-felt rage, you'd better learn to say things like "your reign of terror ends now!" and "I will never accept defeat while there are people I can protect!" without a wince and a nervous laugh.

Then there's the total opposite, what I call the "smarmy type" bad guy. They rarely have a costume, their base of operation is usually just a very normal skyscraper or factory or lab, not even shaped like a letter. They don't show up and monologue at you; in fact, you're more likely to be the one breaking into their office to confront them. They'll lead with a "Ah, gentlemen", or a "you do know breaking and entering is a crime?" or something about having a meeting scheduled.

Obviously a "your villainy ends today" is just going to get an indulgent chuckle from this guy. But even your best sarcastic quips are not going to serve you well either. Let's face it, if you just broke down a guy's door or window or wall, you can't exactly play it off like you're not really invested in the whole situation, you know?

What you want to do is aim for earnest, but in an unexpected way that sort of slips under the smarm. I was on a team the other day and we found some really solid evidence at a shady arms-deal linking it to a business big-shot, so naturally we went to catch the guy before he could leave the country. Bust into his office, he goes with the "to what do I owe the pleasure?" and before our Lawful Guy could do the big accusation, I cut in with: "We have some advice about how you could improve your weapons-smuggling operation."

That threw him off. (Threw Lawful Guy off too, and the rest of the team, really.) He tried to recover with a "what advice?" which, hey, bonus tacit admission. I had the biggest fell-for-updog grin when I said, "Stop running it."

(Extra tip: If you break anything wooden and they yell "that was mahogany!" look down at the pieces and say confidently, "nah, that's stained walnut, your contractor's ripping you off." nine times out of ten they don't know enough about woodworking to dispute it.)

[dianaladrislovebot]

would you be willing to say anything about your plus one fic? super curious about how astrid and drake's dynamic plays out 👀

i absolutely can dear anon i sincerely apologise for how long it’s taken me to get to this it’s been a hectic week lol,,, this will likely get very long i have a LOT to say

obviously the main premise of the fic is astrid falls pregnant instead of diana and the events that follow. basically, in the time between lies and plague astrid is riddled w guilt after mary’s passing and the part astrid played in the council and she’s so desperate for comfort that she steps off her moral high ground and agrees to sleep w sam. when she figures out she’s pregnant, her religious guilt starts eating at her and she’s unable to confess to sam bc it would force her to address the sin they’d committed and how she doesn’t regret it, so she leaves to live in the woods, either intending to lose the baby somehow and handle it herself or to just be a single mother. she never tells him. she simply disappears.

in canon, the gaiaphage is clearly very aware of diana’s pregnancy and is actively planning for her to give birth which i believe is why drake doesn’t attempt to attack the lake until directed and simply watches. in that timeline, diana is surrounded by an entire community of people, several of which having powers. she has ample protection for her and the baby. astrid, who’s living alone in the woods, does not. the gaiaphage ultimately sends drake to be her “protector” of sorts, despite him not wanting to protect her whatsoever. the dynamic between him and astrid is one of disdain and is very much forced proximity. drake knows he cannot harm astrid lest the gaiaphage punish him (of which is already mad at him for failing to keep pete alive and being around astrid IS his punishment, as it has cast him out and told him not to come back without the baby) and the only reason astrid is allowing him anywhere near her is bc she knows this fact. despite this, she’s still actively planning what to do when it comes time to give birth, knowing drake will not let her out of his sight.

astrid realises very quick that if they’re going to be spending nine months together against their will, she’s going to use that time to learn more about him as she doesn’t know anything about him outside of his violent episodes. in her boredom she attempts to crack him open like a walnut and is eventually successful, but in his displeasure at being therapised, he ends up doing the same to her, which forces them both to address things they’ve been vehemently avoiding.

i used this fic as an excuse to delve into both drake and astrid’s psyches and have them learn more about each other despite not wanting to, by astrid discovering that drake is a lot more of a victim than he believes he is/portrays himself as (this is NOT drake redemption by the way, but simply exploring his very clearly traumatic childhood if losing his father young and having an abusive stepfather is anything to go by, plus the gaiaphages almost possession of him and his subsequent lack of control) and drake learning that astrid isn’t as good and pure as she portrays herself as and has her own share of demons. there’s different sides to each of these characters that the other doesn’t realise and they kind of bounce of each other while they’re together. eventually, they form a reluctant very unwilling alliance for the time being and even a very small very strange friendship, complete w chaotic scenes where they do weird shit. who knows if it will remain that way and if astrid is able to sway drake away from the gaiaphages hold before her baby is born, or if drake ends up returning to his master 👀 only time will tell.

[havenesc]

what does Selina think about Sofia taking Jay under her wing? hell, what does BRUCE think??

OHHHHH THIS IS A GOOD QUESTION and like anything else I love yapping my head off about asks like this (the rancher au is a perfect example lmao) but I think it's going to make a lot more sense if I answer with a couple caveats in mind:

The majority of the Sofia and Jason teamup brainworms exist with the idea that Jason is immortal. I.E. he can be killed but he cannot permanently die. It's a whole (handwaves) Thing that I won't get into here.

My knowledge of Selina consists of the TK run back when Rebirth was new up to the wedding, Reevesverse, Gotham War, and a few other one-off stories. Take everything I say with a pinch or handful of salt as needed.

At this point in the timeline, Sofia has connected the dots to a few identities. She knows Selina is Catwoman and Batcat has been on-again-off-again for (checks watch) by this point, fifteen-sixteen years. Selina has absolutely bitched about Bruce. Sofia is not stupid. She's not about to lay her trump card out on the table, but she knows.

All of these aforementioned brainworms are also a product of Birdie (@birdiedoesdc) and I aggressively slinging ideas back and forth like it's The Wimbledon Championships!!!!

Sofia and Selina, in my little walnut mind, are incredibly close. I don't know what Reeves is planning for Part 2, but I think Sofia and Selina value loyalty and family so much in their own jaded, Carmine-warped ways, and they're all each other has remaining of family. They are sisters. They get wine drunk on Sofia's couch and complain about life. They help each other out on jobs. Sofia was there when Selina mourned Jason's death.

So, when Jason makes his public return in UtrH -- personally, I'm currently writing a "Sofia is backing Jason for the entirety of UtrH" fic, but the world's our oyster timeline wise -- I think, reunion with Jason and all that fun that entails aside, Selina would be wary of the consequences of Jason leaning into the crime lord angle, but would feel somewhat better knowing at least Sofia's teaching him the ropes. Sofia is still not a classical "good person" and she can and will do terrible things as a woman with hobbies should, but the devil you know is better than the devil you don't.

Sofia has years of experience. Jason is young and brash and furious and passively suicidal with his immortality, and he's going to get severely fucked over if he doesn't learn to rein it in. If he's going to do this anyways, and there is no talking sense into him, at least Sofia is the one trying to take his neck off the chopping block before Bruce or GCPD gets ahold of him. Selina doesn't have to love the actual nature of what is happening -- she wishes everyone could reconcile, but you don't date Batman for decades without becoming used to the idea of never getting closure -- but at least it's remaining in the "family," and Jason appears more receptive to Sofia's teachings when it's clear that she meets him where he is as a person.

And!! Sofia talks to Selina about Jason. Selina understands Sofia's reasonings, her thoughts, her feelings, because Selina is the only person in the world that Sofia will be emotionally honest with. All the things she won't say to Jason can be said to Selina. Selina watches in real-time as Sofia goes from "aggrieved and having no choice but to take this chronically 19yo in" to "I am actually concerned for his wellbeing and what if this one death is the last of it and it runs out and nobody knows." Selina knows how deep the well of Sofia's care goes, and how much Sofia considers Jason as part of her family, even if she cannot/will not recognize it within herself.

Bruce is not privy to any of that.

Bruce and Sofia hate each other's guts.

Sofia has loose immunity by way of Selina and also by Bruce correctly sussing out that she knows exactly who he is. Sofia doesn't like Bruce even back when she was fresh out of her second stint in Arkham; she was vaguely aware of his family in a very neutral-at-best sense, but she did not like him and only wanted to be around him if there was opportunity to humiliate him. There is absolutely never enough goddamn alcohol in the house come time when batcat inevitably "goes on break" again. The most succinct way I've managed to put it is "Sofia can bitch about Bruce but Bruce cannot bitch about Sofia."

So, when Bruce finds out that Jason and Sofia are in cahoots, he's furious. He thinks Sofia is there specifically to weaponize Jason against him, and to lead Jason down a path to ruin. Sofia thinks he fucking sucks and that he should have wonder woman'd up and killed Joker -- and maybe if he had, nobody would be in this mess in the first place. (Sofia knows a lot about what it means to be failed by your father.)

There probably is a whole arc there I've yet to think about where he's trying to take down Sofia, which in turn leads to Jason getting involved, and Selina getting involved, and it would be so MESSY. In the end, though, Jason and Bruce have irreconcilable moral differences that predate Sofia, and Jason isn't doing anything he wouldn't already be doing by himself.

He hates it. He hates admitting that Sofia is probably teaching Jason necessary skills at least in the way of navigating conversations, about reeling back his explosive nature in times where deescalation is more beneficial than going scorched earth, and that worse, it's working. Where he could not get through to Jason on controlling emotions, Sofia can. (The real irony here is that they are both extremely emotionally repressed people and Jason never knows how much either of them care for him in the way he needs.)

He still believes Sofia is using Jason (she is) and that Jason doesn't know what he's doing (he does; they've talked about their business arrangement in depth), but barring a really bad fumble by Jason or Sofia, he fades more into the background as time goes on.

And I know Dick was not part of this ask but. But. I need everyone to know that he and Sofia hate each other worse than Bruce and Sofia hate each other. Their only common ground is caring for Jason. They have never once liked each other from day one but they are the nastiest case of a bad divorce with split custody you've ever seen, barring perhaps whatever the hell Talia and Dick have got going on.

SORRY FOR THE ESSAY THANK YOU FOR THE ASK <3