#when they are Literally going through the exact same processes as you

[foxmulderautism]

one niche weird thing about reading for a litmag is the more online flash/micro fiction i've read the more i've found specific writers that i really admire or at least i can recognise their name when i see them published in litmags. and sometimes they'll they show up in the queue and it's like oh i'm really inspired by this writer and their skill but now i'm on the side where i read and analyse and vote on their submission. and my impostor syndrome is like what the hell

[moongreenlight]

Headcanons for Captain John Price and his VERY young housewife.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Like unsure if you’ve graduated university yet young. Like he’s gotta be 13 years your senior at minimum. And he eats that shit up. Loves the way people stare and whisper when he parades you around, massive hand planted just above your ass

He’s like Simon in that he prefers you stay at home where he can keep you safe. Hires maids and housekeepers and cooks so your only responsibility is lounge and look pretty. You’re his biggest trophy. Like a prize show cat. Keeping you groomed and pampered and happy. Purring into his hand the moment he comes home.

Lowkey gets so sour when you send the cook home for the day and make dinner yourself. Not that you aren’t a fantastic cook, he just doesn’t want you to lift a finger. Doesn’t like the idea of you accidentally cutting yourself with a kitchen knife or burning yourself on a hot stove. Wants you to just be a trophy on his shelf.

Doesn’t even like the idea of you showering by yourself. Gives you bubble baths so that he can be sure you’re perfectly preened because obviously he’s the only one that knows exactly how to take care of you.

LOOOOOVES that even though you’re so young you fit in perfectly with the other housewives in the neighborhood. Going to spin classes in the early morning, book club, brunch, shopping at the most expensive grocery stores.

Literally treats you like a pedigreed cat. Weekly manicures and pedicures that he’s put his card on file for. You just walk in and they know you’re Price’s wife and that your appointments are prepaid.

And pre-tipped obvi. GENEROUS with his money when it comes to you. And there’s probably a note under your profile that you’re to be paid careful attention. God forbid they accidentally graze your skin with the nail file and hurt his pretty kitty.

Facials and hair appointments biweekly that are the exact same way.

Your picture is posted at the gate of the base because all the guards are expected to know their chain of command and wave them in without question. He just loves that your status as his wife is enough to get you the VIP treatment you deserve.

His ultimate goal is to make you a young mom. Even though you’ve only been married for a year and you’re like 22 he’s actually so pissed that you’re not bouncing a baby on your hip.

Bet he loves the idea of his kids getting bullied because their mom is hot.

Brings you around base for the sole purpose of showing off. Purposely leaves his lunch at home just so you come see him.

The first time you ever met the task force boys he’d asked you to bring something DUMB up. Like a water bottle or something. Who cares. You end up accidentally interrupting the meeting they’re having and Price pulls you onto his lap before introducing you as his wife. Soap and Gaz are kicking each other under the table. Swear to god Gaz does that cartoon gulp. Soap looks like he’s about to explode.

Probably calls you his ‘old lady’ but with the most disgustingly smug smirk on his face.

Btw if you even care you’re such a trophy to him and he’s so invested in his team that he wants to share you with the guys. There’s no ‘I’ in team. So confident in knowing that he’s the only one that can truly pamper you properly that he doesn’t mind using you as leverage to get them to perform well.

Oh Soap did really well on the last mission? He can come to dinner with you guys. Price will dress you up nice and let Soap wrap his arm around your waist when you walk in. Then Price will invite him back for a nightcap and instruct you to drop down between his thighs. Coaching you through the process of palming him through his trousers, unzipping them, springing his cock free from his underwear, taking just the tip into your mouth. Being soooo nice about letting you take your time adjusting your throat. “It’s different, doll. I know. Being so good.” Until he finally snaps and fists the back of your hair, pushing you all the way down so that the room is echoing your lewd, wet gags and moans. He doesn’t let Soap come in your mouth, though. That’s a luxury only he can afford.

And you’re soooooooo happy to do whatever John asks. He treats you so well. The least you can do is oblige his requests every once in a while. He asks so little of you. Plus no other cock compares to his. Even after getting fucked dumb by Ghost, drooling down your chin, you find it in you to look for him. Pupils blown-out, whining softly up to him. Weak and slurring “Need you, daddy. Need you.”

That last part is only if you care tho. I’m normal about it. It’s fine.

[chubsonthemoon]

Another jayvik book!!! This is the incredible divine alchemy of the self, by r0sie_p0sies.

This fic was recommended to me by dear friend @ilgaksu and holyyyyy shit. It was written pre-s2 and yet somehow ends up in the exact same emotional place as the finale; the similarities range from larger scene beats all the way down to certain dialogue choices. Rosie just gets these characters, through and through!

As usual, process chatter under the cut!

It's fitting for a jayvik book that this first attempt was chock-full of experiments and new techniques! This is my first hardcover quarto Legal size, which I really loved doing. I also finally have a proper finishing press, so I was able to properly round and back a book for the first time! The shoulders are a little weak, so I'm hoping to improve when I make Rosie's author copy. I also used my foil pen for the first time and handwrote the little blurb on the back.

Most exciting, this was the first time I tried an inset! I used some of my favorite blue Momi marbled paper; rectangle placement is heavily inspired by one of @pleasantboatpress's gorgeous binds. Loveee me a good rectangle, heh. I thought an inset was fitting for this story; as you can probably tell from the title, the fic is all about transforming oneself--through grief, through illness, through love. I wanted this to be a book of contrasts--stark white for a kind of blank canvas (also a nod to Viktor's hexcorized dolls in s2), blue and gold for magic/hextech. Here's an abridged version of what I sent Rosie while chatting about design (please picture me as that It's Always Sunny conspiracy meme, but in DMs):

The framework of the fic being alchemy, creation, a literal step-by-step guide for how to create something divine, is something I really want to explore! I really like the idea of this kind of blank canvas casing + swirling paper inset. All the love and life and messy tendrils of illness surrounded by this...blank divinity. That divinity as a medium, a container, for the complicated human experience. But also the inverse--the blankness of the canvas drawing attention to the brilliant blue/gold of the inset. The bright light shining through the windows of their living room in the ending scene juxtaposed with the moment of their (possible? wonderfully ambiguous?) deaths; those two moments being, in many ways, the same. A window into their lives loving each other, seen from both the outside and within. *insert lots of keyboard smashing*

Interiority and vulnerability were also two themes I wanted to convey. So with that theme in mind, I tried something very, very new to me, and thought, fuck it, let's try to use paper vellum for the endpapers:

You're not really supposed to use paper vellum for endpapers because 1) it wrinkles and curls like all hell and 2) since it's translucent, it means you can see the inside of the boards and the tapes. But for this bind, I decided to lean into that effect--I scribbled the four stages of the alchemical process (the framework of the fic's chapters) onto the boards so you could see them when you opened the book (I wanted to evoke jayvik's "mad scientists" vibe lol); I cut the supporting linen tapes into points (a nod to the rune Viktor carves into his leg brace) and painted them gold so they'd stand out more (they reminded me of Vik's spine brace; I mean hell, they're literally sewn into the spine of the book for extra support. It felt criminal to not incorporate them in some way!); I tried to be more intentional with the glue brushstrokes while casing in to give the paste-down a more painted effect; and finally, probably the thing that was hardest to let go (and which I'm still a little unsure about, to be honest), I let the damn endpapers wrinkle, for more ~texture.~

The overall effect is something I'm still mulling over, even as I write this--it kind of goes against everything I've learned as a bookbinder, and almost makes me feel (or rather, the book feel lol) naked. These are the parts of the book you aren't normally supposed to see, put on display the moment you open it. But! I think that even if it's not the strongest from a design perspective, I think thematically, it works. Reading this fic made me feel like I was being carved open, so I wanted the experience of reading the book to be a little vulnerable, too. Also: beauty in imperfections, right? :3

Aaand that's all for today! A million thanks again to Rosie for letting me bind her wonderful work <3

And once more for the road: you can read divine alchemy of the self on ao3!

[engie-ivy]

(Don't let the whole 'Sirius catches Remus with someone else'-thing fool you, this is just silly Fluff!)

@wolfstarmicrofic 22nd: Hope

593 words

Sirius catches Remus and Caradoc together... studying.

Study Date

“It's not what it looks like!”

“Well, I certainly hope not!”

“Please, let… Let me explain… I-”

“What has he got that I don't have?”

“Nothing!”

“Is he cleverer than I? Neater than I? Better company than I?”

“No, I swear Sirius, it's not you!”

“Excuse me if I find that hard to believe right now, Remus.”

“What's going on?” James asks, as Peter, Lily and he enter the common room to find Remus sitting on the couch, books spread out over the table, face flushed, with Sirius standing in front of him, hands on his hips, glaring down at Remus.

Without taking his glare off of Remus, Sirius replies. “I just caught Moony with Dearborn red-handed.”

“Planning pranks?” James asks.

“Going to Hogsmeade together?” Peter asks.

“Snogging?” Lily asks.

“Studying,” Sirius says.

Peter gasps, but then he blinks. “Wait, what?”

“No, no,” Remus quickly says. “We were just… just chatting and then…”

“Well, then someone must have hexed your backpacks,” Sirius says lightly. “For your History of Magic books to come out on their own and fly open exactly on the pages about the Great Goblin War, and for your essays on that exact topic to just appear.”

Lily looks from Remus to Sirius with a frown. “Sorry if this is a daft question, but what's so bad about Remus and Dearborn studying together?”

“That's actually an excellent question, Lilyflower,” Sirius replies. “You see, I've asked Remus many, many a time to study together, but it was always ‘no, I don't like studying with someone, I do better studying by myself, I have my own process, I don't study well with others’. Now, as it turns out, it was just me he didn't want to study with. And if there's something wrong with me, he should've just said so.”

“No, Sirius,” Remus shakes his head. “It's not you, it's me.”

“Yikes,” James grimaces.

“No, I… Oh, Merlin, I'm really mucking this up, aren't I?”

“I don't get it, Moony,” Peter chimes in. “What's the problem with studying with Padfoot? I mean, his notes are kinda messy, but he's hella clever.”

Lily gives Remus a pitying look. “Just try to explain. Why don't you want to study with Sirius?”

“Yes, Remus, try to explain, why don't you want to study with me?” Sirius echoes.

“Because you're too distracting!” Remus eventually exclaims. “Godric, Padfoot…” He takes a deep breath, letting it all out. “Look at you. How am I supposed to concentrate? With the way your hair falls over your face when you're writing, or the way you chew your quill when you're focused on a text, or that glint in your eyes when you think of something good… I literally walked into a wall yesterday because you smiled at me! How can you expect clever words to come out of my mouth with you sitting right next to me?”

Sirius blinks a couple of times. “You… You hella like me.”

Remus groans. “Of bloody course I hella like you, Pads!”

Sirius runs a hand through his hair, and Remus audibly groans again.

“You know,” Sirius says. “I really only want to study together because I like spending time with you so much.”

“Well,” Remus says hesitantly. “Maybe we can spend time together not studying?”

“They're literally roommates and in the same class,” Peter whispers. “They spend time together all the time?”

“Sssh,” Lily hisses, slapping Peter's arm. “You're ruining the moment!”

“Like this weekend maybe?” Sirius asks, his cheeks slightly flushed. “In Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah,” Remus replies, blushing fiercely. “That… That would be nice.”

[snail-day]

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Dubcon, Anal, Toys, Gaping, Squirting, Overstimulation. MDNI

Yan!Nanami x Reader thoughts...

Nanami has a thing for anal. Of course, he’d rather be buried deep inside your cunt, feeling your soft, squishy walls clench around him, watching the heat rise to your cheeks as you gaze up at him, all flushed and perfect. But… he also enjoys making his trapped bride make the decisions.

That’s why there’s a clipboard hanging in the kitchen - Adventures for Newlyweds, a neatly organized list of activities. You get to pick, of course. One by one, you cross off options, whittling it down until only the ones you’d rather not deal with remain. And when your hand hesitates, your mind swirling with what’s left, that’s when he moves. Strong arms wrapping around your waist, his breath warm against your ear, lips tracing down the column of your neck.

“Go on, sweet girl. You still have choices.”

Because choice has always been his thing. From his lists, his carefully curated options. He’d never take that away from you.

You definitely weren’t going to do double penetration, not after what you saw in the toy box. The other length sitting in the leather box almost an exact replica of his, just as intimidating, and if he thought he was putting that inside you at the same time—nope. It’d be a big stretch, something he murmured in your ear with that smooth, reassuring tone, "I'd prepare you for it, don't worry." Yeah, you weren't worried about that. He would. The problem is, he'd enjoy it a little too much.

So, when your eyes landed on butt plug on the list, it seemed like the lesser evil. What’s the harm in that? A little plug. Something small, manageable—right?

Yeah, no. Those words definitely bit you in the ass, literally, when you finally saw the metal thing he had in mind. You stared at him, then at the toy, before meeting his lovesick gaze.

"Do you want me to—"

"No... I can do it."

"Do you need help?" His voice was patient, affectionate. "I'm just worried you’ll hurt yourself, honey."

So, off to the bathroom you went. A deep breath. A generous amount of lube. A hesitant finger easing the way. But the process dragged on and on, and after an hour, you heard his long sigh from the other side of the door, followed by another gentle knock.

Because he would help. He’d spend hours preparing you if that’s what you wanted. All day, even. But finally, with a breathless gasp, the toy settled into place, stretching and filling you just as intended. The initial burn slowly faded, replaced by a deep, full sensation that had you looking up at him with flushed cheeks.

That embarrassment? Nanami loved it.

It was always the same - your soft, wide-eyed uncertainty, the way your body hesitated before melting into his touch. It made him smile, made him soothe you with gentle kisses, whispering away your nerves as he eased you into anything he saw fit.

And tonight was no different.

He guided you to the bed, slow and strady, worshipping every inch of your skin as he pressed you into the sheets. And when he finally sank inside you, stretching you completely, he groaned against your ear, "You feel so much better like this, don't you?"

Your hands clenched the sheets, body overwhelmed, and just when you thought you had adjusted, he pressed on the plug.

A sharp, involuntary gasp. Your walls fluttered around him, and he chuckled, so pleased with himself. Every time it threatened to slip out, he pushed it back in, murmuring how good you were, how perfect you felt - how he wasn't letting you go anywhere.

Not when he was finally about to finish, not when the sheets were already wet with your tears, your voice breaking as you blubbered that you were too full, that you couldn’t possibly cum again. But Nanami didn’t stop. His fingers never faltered, still working your overused nub, still dragging you through another wave of humiliating bliss that left you trembling, practically gushing, beneath him.

You see, Nanami also has a thing for over hydrating you. Keeping you nice and full of water so everytime you came, you can expect another bottle of water at your lips so your poor cunny can squirt on his cock all over again.

Only when he had wrung every last shudder from your body did he finally pull himself from your soaked plush walls with a sharp hiss. For a brief moment, you thought he might be a little adventurous, that he’d paint your back with his release, leave you marked just the way he liked.

But no.

Instead, he reached between your trembling thighs, fingers curling around the base of the plug still nestled deep inside you. He pulled it out as gently as he could, but even then, your body twitched, and that’s when you heard it. A sharp, surprised gasp - his voice, breath hitching in open admiration.

Because oh.

You also noticed something just then.

He had a thing for gaping.

His fingers traced the edges of your stretched, trembling hole, his eyes dark with something insatiable. And then, just as your hazy mind was catching up—just as you were starting to realize what had him so entranced—you felt it. The warm, thick traces of cum leaking into that gaping hole.

"Tsk," he murmured, almost to himself, watching as his cum disappeared into your spent body. "Can’t let any of it go to waste, can we?"

And his fingers? They were right there, pressing the slick mess back inside.

After that? You noticed the butt plug remained on the list and how he'd guide your hand to point at it once more before whisking you away to the bedroom.

[love-byers]

(warning: long)

we should talk more about mikes choice of words in the rink o mania fight, or rather the writers choice of words

"You basically sabotaged the whole day!!"

sabotage

in case you need a reminder of what sabotage means

deliberately destroy, damage, or obstruct

mike is not just saying will was being a douche for moping, rolling his eyes, and barely talking. he's saying wills a douche because he's doing it on purpose. not even just on purpose either, he's saying will planned this. will wanted to ruin the day. mike thinks will was out to get him by withholding his friendship. obviously will wasn't doing any of this, he just moped because he felt brushed off by mike and was ignored (or so he thought).

that kind of behavior, thinking the consequences of his own actions are a planned attack against him, is very consistent with the way he acted in s3 when el dumped him and he blamed it on max.

we can connect this directly to mike's apology where he calls himself a self-pitying idiot. the self-pity is mike allowing himself to believe it's not his fault that his day sucked, that it's not his fault will is acting this way. deep down he knows it's his own fault by purposefully brushing will off at the airport, but he was being so self-absorbed and self-pitying that he convinced himself it wasn't.

"why is this on me?? why am i the bad guy??"

so lets go through this again, inferring from mike's own words.

when will left hawkins, he felt weird. he'd just spent the whole summer trying to be grown up and acting like he didn't care about dnd anymore, shutting will down and really hurting him in the process, so he probably feels embarrassed that he now feels the exact opposite. he enjoyed spending time with max, lucas, and dustin but it just wasn't the same without will. he missed will so badly that the fact that will was barely reaching out got to his head, and he felt too insecure to find out for himself. he didn't know if will felt the same way or if he was doing fine without mike, making lots of new friends and enjoying life. he was afraid he'd lost will. then here comes el with her letters saying how life is awesome and they have lots of friends. mike probably thought, oh now i'm DEFINITELY not telling him how i feel. the letter about will potentially liking a girl was the final straw. wow. so he's occupied with some girl and thats why he won't talk to me. so now mikes determined to not give will an inkling of an idea that he's bothered or that he cares. psh, mike could care less. maybe when will sees that mike totally doesn't care he'll feel like he screwed up and he'll be super nice to compensate and win mike back.

so mike gets to lenora and hey, will, i totally don't care about seeing you, see how i dodged your hug? i don't care. then he sees the painting. maybe it's not for someone he likes, maybe it's for me. here you go will, opportunity one to win back my affection.

"Uh, what's that?"

"Um, it's nothing, it's just this painting I've been working on."

"Cool."

operation-act like i don't care: EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR FAILED.

LOOK at his face bro. he looks heartbroken.

from here on mike just got more and more annoyed. will isn't trying to win him back, he isn't compensating for the months of silence. he's acting sad. he's acting sad? he has the audacity to act sad after he made all these friends and left me behind?? no, this is not my fault, this is not on me. it gets under his skin in a way he can't ignore. those feelings of guilt and annoyance that will is causing mixed with his months worth of self pity and convincing himself he's not the problem leads him to another thought. he's doing this on purpose. he's punishing me. this was his plan all along. he's trying to ruin my day for no reason, because i clearly didn't do anything to deserve this.

then angela shows up and humiliates el and mike, for some insane reason, uses this as an excuse to express his anger to will, even though it had literally nothing to do with will.

"You should've told me she was having trouble."

"Well, I didn't know they were gonna be here, Mike."

"Yeah, but you knew she was having trouble for like a year and didn't tell me."

in WHAT world is this will's fault?? he had absolutely no idea el was lying until that day. and mike is blaming him? no, he's really not, he just wants a reason to express his anger without having to admit why he's angry.

"Well, I didn't know she was lying to you."

"Is that why you decided to be a douche to her all day?"

her. he's hiding behind el's name. psh, what? i don't care that you weren't talking to me, it's because of el.

el just got publicly humiliated and mike thinks now is the time to get on will and act like el's biggest problem was will not talking to her?? no way. he just doesn't want will to know that these are his feelings.

"I wasn't being a douche!"

this completely sets mike off. how dare will act all innocent after what he did to me all day? any part of him that was trying to hide that will's behavior is bothering him has been completely overridden. will purposefully withholding his attention from mike has pissed him off soooooo badly that he can't keep it to himself anymore or hide behind el.

"You were! You were! You were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking you basically sabotaged the whole day!"

yup, thats right will. i know exactly what you're doing and i'm calling you out on it.

"Well she was lying to you, Mike! Straight to your face ever since you got here! And...and I've been a total third wheel all day it's been miserable. So sorry if I wasn't...if i wasn't smiling."

third wheel? really?

"Yeah, whatever man."

"Well what about us?"

"What?"

i imagine this is where mike shits himself. i mean he literally stops in his tracks. will is directly addressing what he'd been trying to hide his care for the whole time, them. all of a sudden after all these months, he cares about us? and it's poking at that weird feeling he had, like he missed will too much. like he was feeling too much.

"What, you're mad that I didn't talk to you? Seems like you've made it super clear you're not interested in anything I have to say."

"That's just not true."

mike says that so fast it's like a knee-jerk reaction. of course he cares what will has to say. all he's wanted all day, and all this time for that matter, was for will to talk to him. and will is blaming him?

"You called maybe a couple times. It's been a year, Mike. Meanwhile El has like a book of letters from you."

now mike's defense is kicking in. he feels like will is directly picking at that feeling. the weirdness. the fact that he feels differently for will than the rest of his friends, even his girlfriend.

"That's because she's my girlfriend, Will!"

"And us?"

now the alarms are going off. he knows something. "us" for will in this moment is just their friendship. "us" for mike is something more, because that's what's been brewing in him the whole time they've been apart. internalized homophobia in 3..2..

"We're friends! We're. Friends."

"Well, we used to be best friends!"

oh. he was just talking about our friendship. i was tweaking a little bit. and...ouch. will just officially said they aren't best friends anymore. and he's blaming it on mike. but mikes defenses are still up high.

"Well...well maybe you should've reached out more, I don't know! But why is this on me? Why am I the bad guy?!"

then will is lost for words, and he just look sad. and as mad as mike is, he hates seeing will that way.

i imagine the day or two between this and his apology, mike went over this fight in his mind multiple times. and the more he thought about it, the more he realizes, ah shit. i was way too in my head and this was completely one sided. will wasn't plotting against me, i just felt so bad for myself i convinced myself i did nothing wrong. all this because i thought he found new friends and i felt bad for myself. and now i've lost my best friend and made him feel like all of it is his fault. i have to let him know it's all on me.

tldr: mike is weird and gay.

[asilentguardian]

Okay but I’d love to see your take on stepdad Hal attempt at parenting and trying not to overstep if you’re up for it

Thank you very much for the prompt! I love fics where Hal is slowly integrating into the batfam.

Please enjoy Hal's attempt at giving Tim advice, just in time for Hal's birthday!

-----

It’s a rare night. Bruce and Hal in the same bed, relatively early. Early meaning 11pm, but for them it’s a miracle. Hal thought that somehow being married would mean their schedules would magically align, that the universe would start seeing them as one person, one unit. But between Batman and the Green Lantern corps and their jobs and Bruce’s kids, there really isn’t time for them alone. Plenty of time to save the world together, to put out fires both literal and metaphorical, but little time for this. Laying together, falling asleep together.

Bruce has already slipped under, arm firmly around Hal’s waist. Hal would love to follow him, to curl against that heat, but Hal’s insomnia has joined them, too, and he can already tell it’s going to be a rough one. It hits him out of nowhere, sometimes, this restlessness. Bruce is still in the early stages, liable to rocket out of sleep if Hal tosses and turns too much. Good sleep is so rare for Bruce these days, so Hal begins the slow process of extracting himself from the bed and Bruce’s grip, only cheating a little bit with the ring to climb over him.

Nights like these used to find him fleeing the manor to the apartment he had refused to give up. But Bruce would inevitably come hunting him down, because he could never let anything go, and Hal would end up putting on a show of resisting, and they’d end up back in bed anyways. The apartment was another battle, one that Hal also ended up conceding. It still felt strange to have a permanent residence in Gotham, of all places.

Now, these nights have him wandering around the manor, exploring the library or one of the multiple sitting rooms or the kitchens until he inevitably runs into one of many nocturnal members of Bruce’s family. His family, really. Another argument they’ve run into, one that Hal isn’t quite ready to concede. He’s never seen himself with kids, doesn’t really think he’s cut out for that. He’s not a natural, not like Bruce.

The glow from the kitchen at the end of the hall tells Hal that he isn’t the only one awake, as usual. Hal makes his footsteps heavier, not willing to repeat the mistake of accidentally sneaking up on a bat. It’s Tim sitting at the counter tonight, another familiar sight.

“Hey kid,” Hal greets as he walks to the fridge. Tim grunts in acknowledgement, face still buried in his phone. It’s funny, the different ways Bruce is reflected in his children. Hal is certain he’s heard the same exact noise come out of Bruce when his attention is turned toward a case. Not that Hal would say so outloud. They all tend to get prickly, when he compares them to Bruce. All of them except Damian, who is still young enough to worship his father. 

Hal is still smiling to himself when he turns back to Tim, snack in hand. He scans his eyes over Tim, making sure his sleeplessness isn’t self-imposed, as it too often is. Another trait, courtesy of Bruce. Hal’s smile quickly drops when he notices that Tim isn’t actually absorbed with his phone, just kind of staring at the black screen, mind clearly somewhere else. There’s no dark circles under his eyes, but they are red and puffy. It’s clear he’s been crying.

“Hey, you okay Tim?” Hal asks. Tim blinks and looks up at him before quickly looking away again, trying to hide his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responds, voice devoid of emotion. Tim is still a teenager, technically, and Hal knows that they don’t take well to prying. Tim especially keeps most things close to his chest, doesn't share much with anyone, Hal thinks. Bruce is only able to keep track of his life through border-line unhealthy amounts of surveillance. Tim seems to be aware of this and allows it, so Hal figures it’s fine. But he’s never seen Tim cry, not enough to leave him looking like this. Bruce would probably go apeshit, if someone had hurt Tim, so Hal tries again.

“You sure? Because you can talk to me about anything, if you need to,” Hal says, and immediately cringes. He sounds like his high-school guidance counselor. “I mean, I know I’m just that guy your dad married, but I’m still happy to help you with anything.”

Even worse now, Hal sounds like his own step-dad, and what a horrific thought that is. Tim doesn’t take the opportunity to poke fun at his fumbling attempts to be cool, just continues to stare at his phone. He glances up at Hal, then back down at his phone, tapping it against the counter. Hal doesn’t move, sensing that Tim is either going to actually open up to him or deflect again, and he wants to give him the space to think.

“It’s not that big of a deal, really,” Tim hedges.

“C’mon, hit me with it then,” Hal encourages. Tim glances at him again, and his shoulders sag in defeat.

“Bernard and I got into a fight,” Tim mutters. Hal is secretly grateful that it seems to be a teenager-shaped problem, and not a vigilante-shaped problem, though maybe he would be a better help with the latter. His few teenage relationships were pretty disastrous. He takes a moment to wrack his brain. He had heard from Bruce that Tim was dating a civilian, a boy, and assumes that this Bernard guy is said boyfriend.

“First one?” Hal guesses. Tim shrugs.

“Not really. But this one was just,” he pauses, trying to find the words.

“Worse?” Hal offers, and Tim nods, finally making eye contact with him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that mad before,” Tim says. Hal winces in sympathy. He remembers the first time he had seen Bruce really, truly, mad at him. It hadn’t been a fun night.

“What was the fight about?” Hal ventures, still unsure of how far he should push. Tim is a Wayne, and he’ll have no problem telling Hal when to fuck off, but he’d like to not piss off Bruce’s kids.

Tim huffs and looks away, guilty.

“Vigilante stuff,” he says vaguely. Hal raises his eyebrows. He wonders if Bruce knows that Tim’s civilian boyfriend knows his identity.

“He mad you didn’t tell him sooner?” Hal asks. Tim shakes his head, brows furrowing.

“No, he figured it out a long time ago, he’s just. He’s overprotective, I guess,” Tim says. He freezes after a moment and looks at Hal, frantic.

“Don’t tell Bruce I said that. He’s already twitchy about Bernard knowing at all,” Tim rushes out. Hal puts his hands up in surrender.

“Relax, kid, I won’t rat you out,” Hal says. Tim relaxes like he just dodged certain death. “But you know what he’d say, right?” Hal adds. He didn’t use to understand Bruce’s paranoia about identities, not really. He thought it was all bullshit, a way for Bruce to exert control over all of them. But after they started screwing around, after Hal ended up at the manor a few times, after he saw the way Bruce talked about his kids, he started to understand. The stakes were higher, for Bruce.

“Man, you used to be cool,” Tim groans, rolling his eyes. Hal crosses his arms at that.

“Hey, I just said I’d help you out,” Hal says. 

“Yeah, whatever,” he huffs. They fall into silence again, Tim picking at the edges of his phone case. Hal lets him have the time to collect his thoughts like Bruce often needs. 

“How did you and Bruce do it?” Tim asks, suddenly much more timid.

“Do what?” Hal asks.

“Stop fighting all the time,” Tim says. Hal can’t stop the bark of laughter that bursts from him, and Tim looks at him in confusion.

“Kid, we have not stopped fighting since we met. That didn’t change just because we starting fu- I mean, dating,” Hal says. Tim raises an eerily familiar eyebrow at the slip up, but lets it lie.

“But you’re married now,” Tim insists. Hal knows that his smile in response to that is embarrassingly soft, but he still can’t help it. It’s still thrilling, to think about Bruce and married in the same sentence. 

“Yeah, we are. I married him even though he drives me crazy and can make me madder than just about anything else in the universe,” Hal says. Tim shifts in his seat, clearly more uncertain than before. Hal Hal panics, just a little, at the thought of completely blowing this.

“Look, just because you love someone doesn’t mean you won’t disagree sometimes. You might even get angry at each other. Bruce and I could disagree on the color of the sky, probably, but the difference between then and now is that we actually try to understand each other. We fight because we don’t want to be misunderstood, you know?” Hal says. Tim looks at him suspiciously.

“Not really, no,” he drawls. Hal sighs.

“Well, then you can’t go wrong with a good apology,” he offers. Tim looks even more suspicious now, and Hal suppresses his laughter, this time, but can’t help but be reminded of a prickly kitten.

“Yeah, I guess,” Tim says. Hal offers him a smile, and turns to the cabinets to hunt for a glass.

“You’re not, by the way,” Tim adds, quiet enough that Hal almost misses it.

“Not what?” he asks, filling his acquired glass with water.

“Just some guy Bruce married. You’re a part of the family, too, you know.” Tim says. It’s Hal’s turn to feel uncertain now. He swallows his knee-jerk reaction of denial, takes a sip of water before turning around. Tim’s gaze is piercing, and Hal gets the same feeling he gets when Bruce stares at him, like he can sense whatever self-deprecating thought has passed through Hal’s mind.

“Thanks, kid.”

[livelaughloveluffy]

childhood friends with portgas d. ace

a/n: i was actually inspired for this fic by a real life friendship that i have and thought it would be such an adorable fic prompt!! if you guys enjoy this, i could definitely be convinced if you wanted me to make other versions with the other boys i write for!!! just shoot something in my inbox, dm, or comment so i know it's something you guys actually want 😭😭😭😭

nothing but fluff here 💗

---------------------------------------------------------------------

there was just something about this freckled boy. it was hard to explain without sounding crazy, but some bonds are just like that. some people simply are just made for each other. and that happened to be the case with you and ace.

from the second you met ace, something just clicked. for the longest time, you thought relationship with others was always this easy. but life was cruel, and you were wrong. not that it's really anyone's fault. relationships are hard in general. to know someone deeply and intimately. to understand their thoughts, feelings, and perspective. everything about that process is vulnerable and hard. but when you were with ace, it was as easy as breathing.

the amount of times you didn't even have to say a word to know something was wrong, to know what the other was going to say before the words came out of their mouth, to be so vastly different from each other but still somehow going through the exact same things. distance didn't affect this either.

even when the two of you were oceans apart, you could somehow always still feel him as if he was standing right next to you, warm hand on your back, side by side as you faced the day. when you finally got the time to reunite, somehow stumbling into the same place at the same time, it's as if no time had ever past.

before you two can even register the others presence, you're suddenly all caught up on everything the other missed, tossing your heads back in sync, laughing about some stupid joke the same way you did when you were kids.

looking into his soft brown eyes, you can't help but still see him as that little boy you first met all those years ago, because it truly feels like everything but nothing has changed. trials and tribulations, distance and time, together or apart, the two of you are unexplainably intertwined together.

even if you were deprived of all your senses, you could still find your way back to him. and you know he feels it too.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: this is literally record breaking fic writing speed for me since this is so closely based off a real friend i have. i'm very special and honored to have such a friendship like that in my life!! i promise, no matter what, there is someone in this great big world who just clicks with you in a way no one else will. i lucked out and met that person almost 2 decades ago, but if you still haven't found them, know that they're on their way as fast as they can to get to you. 💗

tags ♡: @3v37773 @irethepotato @dreamcastgirl99 @acesdiary @lilypadmomentum @ermbehindyou @suga-tofu @adamsfanficstash @hamhamhamtaro @kcch-ns

want to join the taglist? click here!!

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; "but it's weird that it happened twice". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Uh,” Superboy says, blinking his way too pretty eyes at him, and then Tucker has another sexuality crisis and also Danny’s mom yanks the door open and beams brightly at them. Tucker hears ghostly screams of undying rage coming from the kitchen, along with Fenton-ly screams of “TAKE THAT, GHOST!” So like, also situation normal, for Fentonworks. 

Except for the superhero he’s currently bear-hugging on the front step, anyway. 

“Oh, hello there, Tucker!” Mrs. Fenton greets brightly, then looks briefly surprised by Superboy’s presence. “Who’s your friend, dear?” 

“Um,” Tucker says, then rips his hands off Superboy and himself back out of the other’s personal space and nearly falls off the stoop in the process. “Hi, Mrs. Fenton! Mrs. Danny’s Mom! Uh! This is–” oh god how did he not think to think of a fake name for Superboy, he thinks desperately, then just panics and goes with the first Street Fighter character that pops into his head–“Cam! Cam Lee! Friend of mine. My friend. Who is mine. We, uh, met on the internet? Cam really likes . . . cosplay. And . . . stuff.” 

Jesus, how was the first character he thought of Cammy? Cammy! The clone of the evil dude, even! The clone who wears a leotard with a thong in literally all her most iconic designs! 

Please, please let Superboy not ask where he got the name idea. Ever. 

Mrs. Fenton’s surprised look immediately melts into one of those weird sappy ones adults get when they’re being insane and thinking grown-ass teenagers are being “cute” or whatever, and she folds her hands together and coos. Tucker has one perfect, crystal-clear moment of oh no in his head before she says, “Oh, that’s so sweet, Tucker! Jack! Say hello to Tucker, he brought his boyfriend!” 

“Boyfriend?!” Superboy sputters the exact same way he said “pretty boy”. Tucker will never know peace again, he is now intimately aware. Also, apparently Danny’s mom is taking his apparent bisexuality better than he is, which is honestly just embarrassing. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear, is this a crossplay?” Mrs. Fenton asks with a concerned little frown, then calls back to Mr. Fenton again: “I mean girlfriend, sorry!” 

“Hello, Tucker! Hello, Tucker’s girlfriend!” Mr. Fenton yells cheerfully as Tucker catches a glimpse of him tackling their struggling refrigerator through the kitchen door before they both go rolling out of view with a series of obnoxiously loud crashing sounds. “Nice to meet youuuuu!” 

Tucker absolutely, absolutely should not have picked anything with any semblance whatsoever to a gender-neutral name. Sue him, okay, his best friends are named “Danny” and “Sam”, “Dani” and “Val” are also things, and “Tucker” is in fact only slightly an improvement on any of that. Frick, even “Jazz” isn’t technically that gendered! There’s definitely at least a dude Transformer named that, if nothing else! 

“So nice to meet you, dear,” Mrs. Fenton says, beaming brightly at Superboy. “Oh, aren’t you pretty! Love the hair, you kids are so creative!” 

“I–I–” Superboy stutters, bright red and half-frozen, and Tucker will definitely, definitely never know peace again.

[eddiesprius]

People get so mad about Maddie telling Buck to learn how to be alone bc ‘Buck’s been alone for most of his life’ but like. I just don’t think that’s true. Buck was *lonely* for a huge portion of his childhood and early 20s, definitely. But we see that the way he deals with this is through recklessly dangerous behavior and developing an unhealthy relationship with sex. I think Buck spent his time before the 118 surrounded by a lot of people, actually, but unable to form the deep and meaningful relationships he craved. When he’s following some frat bros to LA on a whim and stealing a fire truck to hook up with a stranger, he is demonstrably not alone, he’s chasing whatever companionship he can get to ignore how lonely he is. And then once Eddie leaves we see him doing this same exact thing again. It’s less reckless bc he has grown and matured, but he’s latching on to Ravi to fill the Eddie-shaped hole in his life, and then hooking up with his ex to again try and chase that companionship and forget how much he misses Eddie. And Maddie’s saying you have to learn to actually deal with and process your loneliness instead of trying to run away from it, which is good advice. Anyway people hating on Maddie die by my sword.

whats really interesting to me is like. maddie's advice at first is to make new friends. she's like, well there's an obvious solution to your best friend moving away and that's to make some new local friends. not to REPLACE eddie but just so you have someone else you can hit up and hang out with on a day to day basis. solid advice!

but THEN. she sees just how intensely buck is affected by eddie's absence. that's it's not just about not having a buddy to hang out with, it's about missing Eddie and Chris so much he's trying to fill that emptiness with unhealthy choices--he's literally using his ex to try to distract himself from it. and at that point, with the addition of Maddie's obvious suspicion that there's more to Buck missing Eddie than just missing a friend, she changes tacks. because she realizes oh, this ISNT about being lonely because you dont have a friend to hang with. this is about EDDIE and the unique space he took up in your life, which you CANT just replace with a Ravi or some other rando.

at that point her advice turns from "what to do when your friend moves out of town" to "what to do after, essentially, going through a kind of break up." the last couple times Buck had to "learn to be alone" was after Abby and after Taylor. Maddie realizes the issue is not going to be resolved by Buck making new friends. he has friends! what he doesn't have is Eddie (and Chris) and that's not something he can solve. it's something he just has to figure out how to deal with

[tinyluvs]

i literally just found your account today and your spencer writings have me kicking my feet and twirling my hair-but not the point

all i’m going to say is: baking with spencer and you trying to add things in without measuring and he’s shook to his core

thank you so much n absolutely, he would lose his mind

"i think we have everything we need now," your boyfriend says, looking over the ingredients spread out over the counter. you hum, which makes him look up, "stop eating those, we need them," he snatches a packet of chocolate chips out of your hands

you scoff, "actually, those are the ones we need," you wave an unopened bag at him, "these are extras" you attempt to snatch the bag out of his hands but he moves, forcing you to fall forwards and off of the counter, where you were sat

spencer chuckles at you but steadies you with an arm around your waist. you shove at him lightly when he moves away, putting the chocolate chips on top of the fridge freezer, where he knows you can't reach

"that's so rude," you comment, squinting at him. he dips to kiss at your forehead, whilst rolling his eyes before reaching over to turn the oven on to preheat

he claps his hands together before looking around his kitchen, "where is the recipe?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing across his forehead

you shrug, "i don't have one," spencer gawps at you, like you're crazy. he shakes his head and takes off out of the room, "where are you going," you huff but don't move to find out

"i'm finding one," he shouts back from the other end of the apartment. his long legs getting him there much faster than you ever could

he eventually comes back, book in hand, "you have a recipe book?" you hum, amused. his apartment is filled with books but you've never seen a cook book

"yeah, it used to be my mom's" he says, flicking through the pages, "here we go," he scans over the page and then starts rummaging through his cupboards

you roll your eyes at him and then grab a bowl and the bag of flour. gently, you start pouring the powder, eyeballing it as you go. you've made chocolate chip cookies hundreds of times, winging it every single time

"so the recipe says-" spencer turns around with scales in his hands, stopping in his tracks when he see's you, "hey, stop, what are you doing?" he shrieks, grabbing at your hands, stopping you from pouring

you frown at him, "making cookies? what does it look like i'm doing?" huffing at him you manage to shake his hands off of you and in the process, sprinkle flour over both of your hands

"we need to measure it," he scoops the bowl off of the counter, once again holding it out of your reach

"no we don't," you groan and his jaw drops, "what? i've made these so many times spence, i could do it with my eyes closed!" you press your hands onto his shirt, smirking when he ends up with two perfect prints of flour on him

spencer stares at you and you stare back, arms crossing over your chest, "we have to do it properly," he says with a slight huff

bumping him out of the way you reach into one of his cupboards, getting out another mixing bowl, "fine, you make it with the recipe," you put the bowl on the counter, "i'll do it without"

your boyfriend shakes his head, "no, that's stupid"

loudly you groan, throwing your head back slightly, "we have enough ingredients, i promise you mine will turn out the same as yours, if not better" you say smugly, snatching the flour back from him

he watches you for a minute before giving in, not wanting to back down from the challenge. silently he moves around the kitchen, weighing out sugar, flour, butter and grabbing the right amount of eggs, side eyeing you occasionally to see what you're doing

"see, they look the exact same!" you point at the two identical trays of cookie dough, all rolled into small balls, ready to go into the oven

spencer slides the trays into the oven, humming like he's not fully convinced yours are going to be any good. "we'll see," he says, winding up a timer

you hop back up onto the counter, watching him collect the bowls and utensils before dumping them into the sink, "can i have the chocolate chips back now please?"

he grabs them off of the fridge freezer and then moves to stand between your legs, "kiss first please, honey" he hums, dipping forwards to kiss you three times

"thanks" you giggle afterwards, already tipping the chocolate pieces into your hand. you push a couple into spencer's open mouth, he nods appreciatively while rolling his sleeves up, ready to wash up

when the timer goes off you startle slightly, which makes spencer laugh as he gets the trays out, pushing them onto the counter. you reach for a spatula, taking one from each tray to cool down faster

"ready?" you ask once they have, holding your cookie up to your mouth, he mimics your actions. he nods once before you tuck into your treats, "don't know what you were so worked up about, tastes great"

"let me try," he says, opening his mouth so that you can slot the rest of it into his mouth, "what?" he screeches, still chewing, "yours taste better than mine, how?"

"magic, angel, it's real you know" you giggle, bouncing up to kiss melted chocolate away from his bottom lip

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[theshy1sout]

Okay, so

I finally got my bf into reading Homestuck. I was on a phone call with him as he read it at loud, voice-acting and stuff, while I was drawing. Today he reached the Dave first appearance and he discovered Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff.

You have to understand that I always thought that this comics was just a stupid joke that only Hussie understands and finds funny. Bc the moment I saw the page with the dog (you know which one) I left the comics and never looked at it again. Until today.

My boyfriend read every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff in complete silence. I asked him what's wrong, and he said "This is extremely sad". I was confused so he started explaining to me how this comics is a way little Dave was coping with trauma of living with his abusive brother. I didn't believe that, so I started reading the comics again and you know what?

Imagine adult Dirk, being completely under Lord English control, going shopping with little Dave and destroying supermarket in frustration of not finding anything that Calliborn would recognize as a food, being arrested by police in process and leaving little Dave alone hidden somewhere in the shop.

Imagine little Dave being pushed from the stairs so many times by his bro, he drew a caricature of himself pushing his bro off the stairs in revenge. Or being regularly beaten so hard and often, so he drew comics in which his brother got beaten up, shitted on and even brutally killed.

Imagine little Dave being so hungry (bc of course brother didnt give him proper food) he literally threw himself at a Subway sandwich machine during idk a walk with his bro (probably) and tried to steal some food or even just smell the actual normal food and while doing so got abandoned by his brother. Again.

Of course we can't interpret this way every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, but come on, if you start seeing it, you cant stop sensing that every single page is either a way Dave coped with a traumatic experience or a way he kind of got revenge on his brother in a way his brother wouldn't understand and notice and beat him up for doing so.

I searched internet for so long and can't find a single person who would interpret it this way. Am I wrong though??

It gets better. As we know, Dave from universe B also drew this comic. And we even got a directly explained to us interpretation: he started drawing it as a simple comic (probably to cope with the loneliness). Then when Batterwitch became a real danger and he saw that but couldn't react directly, he started using his comics as a way to show what Betty Crocker was really like. So we also had this two characters, one represented Betty Crocker and the second one represented society, and they had this very abusive relationship that had references to situations in real life in Universe B.

So my theory (or more like my bfs theory) is that Dave from universe A was using his comics for the same exact thing. He drew situations from his life in a unreadable for others way (and also no one taught him how to draw or write, and maybe later he kept the shitty format so it's unreadable and too shitty for his brother to read) to cope with trauma. We see in this comics that Sweet Bro is shaving himself above Jeffs face while he sleeps, a thing that Dave's bro could definitely do. We see some pages of Dave trying to understand sport, economy and politics in his own way, bc his brother of course didn't teach him shit. And we even got a page that might suggest that Dave was sexually molested by his bro. There are many scenes of Bro being abusive to Jeff or Jeff getting his revenge. We also have Geromy, a possible interpretation of John, and on one page Jeff (Dave) tries to come to Geromy's (John's) place to visit him, but he can't and he drowns instead (which is so sad???).

I could go through every single page with this interpretation. I think some pages being a foreshadowings for what is happening later in Homestuck is just an additional joke, Hussie loves having layers of meta twists and many unrelated things relating or referencing each other for no reason. I don't think the comics is Dave's unconscious traveling through time and revealing the future, bc if so then we would see every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff being a foreshadowing, and they are not. I also think that the huge wink to the audience was the scene of Dave being pushed by his bro down the stairs and we see him falling with accompaniment of a little panel of Jeff saying "I warned you about the stairs, bro". For me this is a visible hint that this is what this page of the comics was about, it was a way of coping with trauma, it was Dave drawing his brother falling down the stairs and himself saying probably a line that his brother irl was saying to him a lot.

Dave drew his life. His own horror of a life and it was probably more terrifying than he revealed in act 6.

Do you remember the iconic "bro hug" from Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff? A hug from his bro, sth that Dave really needed and wanted, a simple hug that he was very nervous to asked for, he literally drew himself hugging his brother in his second comic, and then we have the very same scene of Davepeta and Arquius hugging (part of them was Dave hugging Dirk, even if artificial), and then we have the exactly opposite of the scene between actual Dave and Dirk, when instead of enthusiastic "we're doing it bro, its happening, were making it" it's Dave saying "fuck forgive me for what I'm doing, this is so messed up fuck" and it's not even full embrace like in his comic, it's awkwardly side by side hug when they didn't even sit on the same level (like in the comic or with sprites), no, Dave is lower, he's smaller, he's scared, he cant face his brother, he wants to but he can't and this is just aaaansnanbska dmnsksnsdkydykdky

Can someone talk about this comic more? This flashy shitty documentary of Dave's life drawn by idk maybe 8 years old Dave ? The more I read Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, the more depressed I am, cause this is so sad if I'm right about it. I really wish it was just stupid colorful comic without any deeper meaning, just faking to have one or sth....

Also I think Geromy is black bc either Dave didn't know how John looks like so he imagined him being somewhat similar to his fav president Obama or maybe he was just trying to make John's character as unlike John as possible so no one would suspect a thing. Or maybe he just imagine himself being friends with young Obama, who knows.

After editing this chaotic rambling I have two more things as a prove for my theory. One is picture above, and second is what Hussie said about Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff:

“SBaHJ is absolutely inseparable from HS, and has been almost from the start. If you don't understand this, then you don't understand HS very well. SBaHJ is like the mentally handicapped step brother of MSPA, requiring special attention, but no less cherished as a part of the family. It was originally intended as the chief source of in-house memes for dialogue, but this is ultimately a superficial purpose. Though it only has 20+ strips, it contains a pretty dense and internally consistent language of recurring symbols and typo-driven grammars, applicable as a rich sub-cognitive lexicon for highlighting elusive elements woven into the mythology of the story which tend to be shrouded in the unconscious.”

[daredevils-advocate]

Okay so originally this was a very different post but my brain kicked back online halfway through and I lost the plot a little bit so I'm just showing y'all when that happened because you might be able to see the exact thought process

House Veridian and the Feathered Hosts aren't fighting. Believe me I love the "Fuck Them Birds" stuff as much as the next person, but they're on the same side in that they're both Vessel. It's a 2 sides of the same coin situation, literally his fight or flight instinct reacting to everything that's happened since TMBTE shot them into fame. This album is him having a conversation with himself about his current position.

Feathered Hosts is the "flight" instinct. Caramel showed us that it's the side of him that's scared of what all this attention has brought and will continue to bring, the part of him that's angry that it resulted in his mask being ripped off before he was ready, if he ever was going to be. The parts of him that are still hurting even though he's achieving everything he's ever dreamed of.

House Veridian is the other half. Emergence proved this is the side of Vessel that's not done fighting yet. The side that's standing back up for another round and will continue to do so as many times as it takes. He made it this far and he's refusing to stop now no matter how hard it might be.

I'd like to point out lines from both songs that I haven't seen compared yet, from the bridges:

"I thought I got better but maybe I didn't."

"And you might be the one to take away the pain and make my mind go quiet. And let my mind go quiet. And nothing else is quite the same as how I feel when I'm at your side."

And the choruses:

"So go ahead and wrap your arms around me."

"So stick to me." "Walk beside me-"

We do help him by just being there to support him. He knows how much we care about him, people that have worked with the band have stated that they all are aware of the love we have for them.

He's defending both himself and his dreams, acknowledging that while he is healing from some parts of his past, he's still got some demons to fight here in the present and into the future. He has just 2 requests: that we give him his space and privacy so he may be himself away from the stage, and that we walk beside him as he works through everything and figures out how to navigate this new territory in the spotlight.

[perplexingly]

ok i'm not very good with words & this is kind of embarrassing for me so i hope this is coherent LOL but. i wanted to thank you for uh. well just posting your art i guess.

i could say i've been in a few years long slump but the truth is i've been in an art slump since i aged out of pre-teenness and grew awareness. i've kind of hated art for years, not just my final product but just the entire process of it. it made me miserable. and yet i felt compelled to do it despite that, despite knowing it would just make me miserable, because idk... i'm an artist? or i want to be? but. it still made me miserable. and to be honest i was reaching the point where i wanted to just give up on art completely because constantly comparing myself & constantly feeling like shit everytime i picked up a pencil just wasn't worth it anymore.

and then! i stumbled upon your art. to be honest i'm a little embarrassed i can't remember which specific piece it was. i have a feeling it was probably istvan, or istenry related (😅) but i can't remember. i do remember how much it struck me though. your work, i mean. your entire style. hope this doesn't sound weird lmao but after that first piece landing on my dash, i just felt compelled to look through your entire blog; and i did! and i only fell more & more in love with your art. i don't think i have the words to explain it, i don't even know if i could even if i did. there's just something about it that i adore even in like the smallest barebones sketch, or wip. what i'm saying is that you very quickly became my new favorite artist haha.

i've been inspired before, like brief rushes or whatever only for it to die immediately because i.. hated it lol. i hated what i made. and i assumed the, quite honestly, constant wave of inspiration your art gave me would be the same. and then it wasn't.

i really don't even like, know how to explain why. i'm not even sure if there is a why? but there's just something about your art that made me want to try, like *actually* try and draw something i love. and then i drew. and for the first time in years, even after weeks passed, i still not only loved the finished product but the entire process as well. and then i did it again. and again. and it was still happening, i still loved what i was making & for even more first times, even when i saw work that was very clearly technically better, i didn't care! for the first time other peoples works, including some of my friends, wasn't just a tool for me to feel worse about myself & my own work, it was just something i could enjoy & that was it.

i don't really understand it to be honest? but i do know that even though it was like, completely indirect, you honestly deserve most if not literally All of the credit for this. it never crossed my mind someone's art could be SO good it would cure my inferiority, and then i started following you and exactly that happened!

so. um yeah kind of a very long message Sorry about that. but basically what i'm trying to say is:

thank you i guess? for making art so beautiful it's enough to rewire someone's brain into falling in love with art all over again. i'm so serious i really do not think i would've been able to ever even like imagine doing that without your art inspiring me. to be honest i think if i hadn't just happened to be online the exact time someone i was following just happened to reblog from you, i have a feeling i really would've just given up art completely: so thank you, really.

i get the vibe from some of your more personal posts that things aren't really going the best right now which, admittedly i can't help with but. i really hope things turn around for you soon. you only deserve great things. ❤️

Omggg I'm so happy for you, it's such a wonderful feeling when you're in love with the art process 🥰 I'm glad you didn't quit art! There's that entire view that art is suffering but when you let go and just draw what you enjoy there's no feeling like it 🥰

Also thank you so much for such a heartfelt message, and for the wishes, you're most kind 🙇‍♀️ I hope all goes well for you too!

[yorsgirl]

Take the long way home

Tags: Ryomen Sukuna x gn!reader, emotional hurt/comfort, established relationship, implied college AU, no use of pronouns or y/n. w.c. 1.5k (ig?)

A/N: purely self indulgent + had the worst fucking day possible so let me give you some fluff <3

It's not everyday that you slouch like this.

Sukuna knows that clearly. Considering he thinks he almost has you and all of your antics figured out—creating a mind map for himself. He knows you go through your phases where you'll just shut yourself in a room or a corner in the house; a need for tranquility rather than depravity.

Even then, this- this is different. Well, not that different. You almost act the way you normally do yet the aura that radiates from you just heightens his instincts that screams at him that something's wrong.

"Spit it, what's wrong?"

You merely crane your neck towards him, there's a vague expression of thought process as you scrunch up your eyebrows before relaxing them. Softly do you shake your head with a low hum indicating - nothing, before you seclude him from your attention.

Alright, something's definitely wrong.

You've always been a hard nut to crack, dreading the idea of opening up to someone and fearing how literally any weakness can be exploited. You aren't completely a pessimist but this trait of yours had certainly impressed Sukuna more than he'd like to admit. Yet, here now, with you slouching like this beside him, falling a few steps behind just to increase the pace and catch up to him and you don't even give him a verbal answer, this causes an ire of vexation to alight in him.

No, not now. He exhales softly and attempts again.

"Oi," He doesn't receive a response this time around. Clearing his throat, he lowers his tone, nudging your shoulder. "I am calling you."

"Mhm... what?"

He marks the low tone of voice with the two seconds delayed response. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"You're slouching."

Instantly, you straightened your back, locking your hands behind. With a non-commital shrug, you ask, "Better?"

"No." Normally, you'd have bitten back with a sarcastic remark. This time you don't. Involuntarily, he scans you with narrowed eyes. "What's so damn depressing that can't even say it?"

"I told you, I am fine."

There's the denial again.

"Right,"He hisses, hoping his lack of belief is evident. "You don't look fine at all."

"If I don't look fine then stop asking."

This time round, you completely turn your attention towards him. A palpable scowl is etched upon your features and while oftentimes did the exact same expression irritate him, here it only bothers him. Bothersome that you are hell bent on hiding something from him. When did he ever made you feel like that? Sure, he has a reputation around the town but you should've known by now that none of that attitude will ever be bestowed upon you.

Sukuna runs his fingers through his hair before they curl around his locks and he purposely gives them a sharp tug. He can just leave you to slump and hope you'll get better on your own which you of course will. However, just the thought of it gnaws at him causing him to cringe in extreme disgust. How could he just leave you to your own misery and expect you to get over it when it is bothering you so damn much? For all he knows, he could be the reason of this state of yours. No, he'd rather watch cocomelon for a wholw fucking day with his nephew than leave you like this. On cue does an idea pops up his head and wow- luck's just on his side.

Both of you exit the college campus, Sukuna's a step ahead of you as he strides to his bike. He swings his leg over the vehicle and once comfortable with his position, he clasps his helmet and passes you another.

"Let's take the long way home."

In response, you could only squint your eyes, a hint of silent protest slips on your features and just when he thought you'd retaliate, you don't. Instead, you pinch your lips together before giving him the positive note.

"Fine," You perch behind him, scooting closer as you wrap your arms around his waist. "But we are going straight home."

"Whatever you say, your highness."

Sukuna whistles with a approving grin before revving on the engine and soon he is out of the driveway.

True to his words, he is making this drive a long one. The idea of it stemmed from the fact that your uncharacteristic silence had just been so loud that he could have hit his head somewhere. Obviously, you aren't ready to open up to him and he knows. He gets it, he really does. Hence, all of it comes down to this.

Something's got you all pissy and what's better than a late night drive to cure you?

Besides, didn't you always say that only music and drives make you feel better? At this instant, he can't provide the music so you'll have to compensate on that.

"Will be on the highway soon."

"Yeah..." You trail off on the word but don't add anything further.

Well, not for long.

Definitely, it wasn't for long.

Sukuna speeds up his bike racing past the, few, surrounding vehicles. The accelerating of the engine almost cuts off all the external sound and although it might seem boisterous to some personal, all it does is fuel up his crave for thrill. (Hopefully, yours too)

Late at night, the highway is a typical one. Thick darkness coats the road except for the streetlights which provides little to no light. The asphalt ribbon like road stretched out ahead and finally disappears into the inky unknown. All of it has a spooky vibe, an eerieness with the quite of the night which only upturns the fact that this might just turn into one of those clichéd horror movies.

Fortunately, your thoughts aren't that far.

"Are you trying to enact the movie we saw last week?"

Progress, good. Though you can't see it, he raises an eyebrow, "Why? Scared, are you?"

"You wish," You scoff playfully. "It had the very same plot and the very same ending as all the other ones."

"Like you have got any better."

"Hey–" You protest. "The notebook was good."

He exhales loudly, "Same old romantic shit."

"Your action movies aren't doing anything good either by breaking the laws the of physics." You muse with a subtle curve of your lips.

"Better than your sentimental historical dramas."

You pucker your lips, "They aren't that bad."

"Yeah?"

"Well fine," You sigh exasperately. "We all have our guilty pleasures."

"You-" Sukuna corrects, overtaking a car on the road. "You have your guilty pleasures, not me."

"I saw you binging MasterChef the other day."

This manages to throw him off guard. His lips twist in a notable frown and he refrains from turning back to look at you. "How the fuck do you know that?"

"Uh huh," You grin and he calls your name which only makes your grin wider.

"For fuck's sake, when?"

"Mhm, not telling."

"I am not going to ask again."

"Well don't," You coo at him. "All the good for me."

"That was a warning, brat."

"Oh my," You gasp in mock surprise. "To me that sounded like a love confession."

He calls your name again, this time though you're pressing your face on his back as you try to hold back the laughter; failing miserably.

The sound of your saccharine chuckles mingles with the wind, carrying a sense of serenity which for unknown reasons could only soften the callous boy, in front of you. The tender gasps of breath as you try to recoil could never be more calming. Even with the throttling engine, the way you've clutched his shirt for support makes him question does a more perfect moment could ever exists?

You relax only thirty seconds later.

"Better?"

There's an undeniable soft edge in his voice which fails to elude you. Looking back, there's two questions strewn into one.

You nod, "Better."

Sukuna hums, staying silent for a few seconds before questioning again. "Wanna talk about it?"

You think over the offer for a second or two before indulging him. Nestling yourself closer to him, you begin, "Today was just... bad. Like from the time I woke up, everything's just– uh, what should I say? Everything's just—"

"Screwing itself up?"

"Screwing itself up."

A silence prevails for sometime then you continue, "It's not something big but well... it's kind of just tiring."

Though the details are vague, Sukuna listens through it all. Quipping back once or twice which elicited a chuckle or two from you. The rest of the drive in the highway in spent in you pouring out all of the conundrum which were bestowed upon you. None of them aren't that major but the accumulation of it all is certain to ruin anyone's day; he wouldn't be an exception either.

"So–" He starts after you're done venting. "Just cause you had this shitty day, you're getting this. We can get takeout from anywhere you want then we go home, you turn on any of your guilty pleasures or we can just check who has the better movie choices among say, what say?"

"Yes!" You exclaim, tightening your hold on his waist and Sukuna could almost picture the twinkle in your eyes and the delighted curve of your lips. In all cases, he will deny that such an insignificant gesture could ever make blood rush up to the center of his chest, could ever make him grin like an idiot; in truth, it does. You rest your chin on his back. "Can we get sushi?"

"You brat–"He mutters under his breath. "Sushi, it is."

[floweycidal]

do you think when flowey was a wee weed and just got into calling himself flowey that he had a kind of embarrassing stage he does not want to talk or even think about where he tried too hard to be the opposite of asriel and it was so obvious everyone could tell it was asriel

BAHAHAHAHA, YOU BET I DO! this is probably going to be as headcanon-y as it gets (kinda), sorry in advance. but really, making him a total sopping wet soggy loser is the best part of writing him. it's my favorite angle, no doubt.

the first month of being "flowey" was an exercise in second-hand embarrassment, except the person you're embarrassed for is yourself. and you can't even leave the room to escape it, because surprise! you are the room. you're a flower. stuck there. living it.

he had it all planned out. goodbye asriel dreemurr, the prince of crying-at-literally-everything, hello to... whatever cool and clever thing he was supposed to become. the details were fuzzy, but he figured being soulless meant the whole "evil" thing would come naturally.

it did not come naturally.

the cracks showed almost immediately. everything he tried just came out wrong. his threats sounded more like worried suggestions. his evil schemes kept accidentally making things better. his idea of entropy was essentially community service with attitude.

he couldn't even get the basics right. he'd tried tossing out sick burns, but they'd just hit with all the impact of a wet napkin. they weren't even insults half the time—just weirdly specific observations that petered off awkwardly.

he sucked at it. no way around it. he sucked ass.

so, he worked harder. determined to sound edgy, bad to the stem—whatever that meant—but it didn’t seem to take. every affront felt more like an accident than an attack. 

and the laugh. god, the laugh. he practiced it, forced it, tried every variation. dry chuckles, derisive cackles, even an exaggerated villain’s howl. none of them worked. what kept slipping out instead was the exact same dorky laugh that used to bubble up when #she would do silly voices during storytime.

this was the worst. he was the worst at being the worst.

his own body double-crossed him at every turn, still running on years of ingrained kindness his mind was trying to stamp out. he'd be right in the middle of his most "menacing" speech yet, really getting into the whole eternal suffering thing, when someone would sneeze.

"bless you!"

every. time.

the number of “villainy” monologues ruined by his automatic politeness was actually impressive. really, it was almost a talent.

it was a drawn-out process, this transformation. no guidebooks or cheat sheets. however... i’d argue the closest thing he had to a mentor here was toriel.

she didn't know it was him. obviously. somehow that made it worse, because she kept almost-recognizing things. little stuff he hadn't managed to burn away yet.

a familiar turn of phrase. how he'd end sentences. that godawful giggle that still sounded too much like pillow forts and frolicking in the mud. how he’d fill glasses, just enough to make them brim above the edge. the efficient way.

each time her eyes would catch on these moments, these tiny betrayals of self, he'd slam that reset button with all six petals. nu-uh, no buckaroo.

her reactions were the compass he followed, pointing to what needed to be carved away. reset after reset, he got better at it. harsher. finer. a little less like the kid who used to run up to her with flower crowns and scraped knees. 

the kindnesses got rarer; the callousness came easier.

never easy enough, though.

she'd still tilt her head sometimes, something glittering in her eyes like she was hearing the first few notes of a song she’d once known by heart. and he'd realize he'd effed up again, let some stupid little piece of asriel show through.

she’d never know she was teaching him how to stop being her son. to her, he was just some weird flower guy that occasionally felt eerily familiar, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

every time she almost intuited something in him, he'd reload, desperate to finally become someone she wouldn't know at all.

ahhhhh. and so it came full circle. in his frenzied bid to unlearn being her child, he was still (by the most bruisingly contorted logic) turning to her for guidance. still just a kid, looking to his mom for answers. just… not in the way either of them would’ve wanted.