#yeah so i . i might uh. i might be only thinking about this for the next couple of days

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 3

Adiel had already gone to bed by the time he heard frantic knocking at his door. He stumbled through his apartment hazy with sleep, a hand stretched out to guide him through the dark until he reached his living room. The lights were blinding to his eyes.

“Adiel?” Came the muffled voice through the through the door. “Can…can I come in please?”

Dread washed over him quick and ugly, churning his stomach as his shaking hands unlatched the locks. Had something happen? Was Eddie hurt? Or—

He hesitated to unlock the last latch. Was Eddie drunk? No, he shook his head. Eddie doesn’t… he doesn’t drink, not like that. He doesn’t get…like that. Not like his ex.

“Adiel?” It was softer now, and he finally opened the door.

“Eddie?”

His voice was still rough from his abrupt wakening, but he looked over quickly checking for anything really. When he couldn’t find anything, his shoulders finally loosened.

“Hey,” Eddie smiled a little crooked and forced, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s cool. Come inside, are you okay? It’s,” a brief glance at his digital watch, “it’s two in the morning, Eddie.”

They shuffled inside and Adiel locked the door behind him. Guiding Eddie to the kitchen as he flicked on a couple more lights.

“I know, I know. I’ve just been,” he gestured vaguely and his rings caught the warm tones of the lights, “driving around. For a while. Uh, my heads just been a mess today and I…”

“And?”

Adiel encouraged him softly.

Eddie, always so unapologetically himself and taking up space in any room he’s in, looks unsure. He looks away, eyes a bit hooded from exhaustion, he thinks. Sadness, maybe.

He has to guide Eddie’s hand away from where he’s begun to wear down his thumb nail again. A habit that he sure Eddie’s picked up from him.

“And, I wanted to see you.”

His heart might actually sore inside him.

“Well,” he offers a cheeky grin and spins on his toes until he’s facing him again, “you have me.”

“Yeah, I have you.” The words carry weight to them. Adiel’s cheeks flush with warmth.

“You do. Come, let’s go put you bed. You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”

Having Eddie is his bed always feels like the world to him. It’s one of the only moments when his mind is able to still, thoughts silent. All his worries are gone when he has Eddie in his arms.

It not just when they’re being intimate (‘canoodling’, he says because he likes to make Ed groan), it’s about having him in his space and still feeling safe. Safer, even. And it’s unlike anything he’s been able to feel in his past relationships.

Safe. Being open and vulnerable and still falling asleep next to someone. Eddie coming here at night, because he feels safe enough to be vulnerable, too.

Adiel always falls too fast and too hard, but he just feels so much. Too much. And they only had a couple months together now, but he can feel himself falling. Not there yet. But he could, soon. It’s as if he’s bracing for the impact of it all.

“You’re still awake.”

“I need to tell you something. I can’t sleep until I do.”

Adiel hums.

“Earlier today, or, yesterday I guess. I was at Steve’s house and… he kissed me.”

The night is so silent, even in the city.

“Did, did you want to kiss him?”

“He kissed me. He surprised me and…I didn’t kiss him back. I wouldn’t do that to you, Adiel.”

He gathers Eddie in his arms, his chest against Eddie’s back, and burrows deep into the nape of his neck.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry that he kissed you.”

“He’s my friend. An unlikely one, but one of the best that I have. I don’t want to lose that. I can’t. I, I owe him my life.”

“No.”

“I do. I’m only here because of—“

“I know what he did for you and I’m so grateful you’re still here, Eddie. I don’t want to imagine a world with you. But if he’s as good as a friend as you’ve said he is, then he wouldn’t want you to feel like you owe him anything.”

“You’re right. I don’t mean it that way. Just that… he’s important to me. And I don’t want to let it go.”

“Give him time then, and space. He’ll need it right now and you’ll have to respect his boundaries.” Like he didn’t respect ours. He nuzzles deeper and breathes in his scent it’s thick with sandalwood.

“I feel like it’s my fault that he feels this way.”

“Can’t make anyone feel anything they don’t want to.”

“When did you get so wise?” He laughs.

“Hush, baby. We both need some sleep.”

“You’re the best among men, Adiel. Goo’night.”

“Night, Ed.”

He’s burning with jealousy, but he can keep it tucked away. Steve means something to him. And that’s what he’s afraid of right now.

He tightens his arms around Eddie, being selfish with his warmth.

I just found you, he kisses his shoulder, I can’t lose you.

———

Something changes after that night. It’s not noticeable right away, his friends don’t notice, but Adiel does. He notices everything about Eddie, even the finer details.

He doesn’t mention Steve anymore, at least not to him. And Adiel doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not.

He didn’t notice how much Eddie talked about Steve until he stopped.

He has these moments in between their kisses and conversations where he… gets lost, for a lack of a better word. His eyes carry this far away look and Adiel know he’s not here with him.

He kisses him back to him until his eyes are alight again and smiling enough to show off his one crooked canine.

When will his kisses stop being enough? Will Eddie simply float away from him, like a cherished red balloon escaping the grasp of a small child, only able to watch it go.

He tries to hold onto him tighter. His hand interlocked with his, squeezing and rubbing his thumb on Eddie’s knuckles just to make sure he doesn’t float away.

He doesn’t want to hold too tight that he suffocates him, but he can’t help it.

I can’t lose you, I…

There are many things he loves about Eddie that he can list off, but the one this that makes him different is how he doesn’t care about Adiel’s strangeness.

His timid demeanor that he never grew out of. His constant need to be reassured. His laugh, more of giggle that gets him strange looks. His restless fingers and chewed, painted nails down to a stump.

All things he’s been called effeminate for.

Targeted, pushed aside, excluded…

Eddie takes all these traits and kisses them one by one. Nurturing them. Loving them. Seeking them.

Eddie makes him feel like man, instead of questioning his masculinity. He’s even painted his nails for him and didn’t bat an eye when he asked for baby purple instead of the assumed black.

“Baby, do you mean lavender?”

“Oh my god, shut up! If it’s called baby pink why can’t it be called baby purple. Stop laughing!”

Eddie makes him feel like it’s all okay. That he’s okay.

And everything, everything will be okay, too.

Until it wasn’t.

———

Eddie didn’t stop making him feel loved or cared for, but it felt different than from before that night. Today has feeling to it. Like the end.

He keeps stalling against the inevitable.

“Adiel—“

“Let’s watch movie? You can sleep here again and I’ll make breakfast for dinner,” because Eddie doesn’t like savory foods after dark, “I have a couple new tapes to choose from—“

“Baby.”

Baby purple.

No, no, no. His hands are shaking again.

“You know, don’t you? That it’s the end for us?Adiel, I wish we could’ve been different,” He holds his shaking hands and Adiel focuses on them instead of meeting his eyes. It’s been a long time coming, doesn’t mean he feels prepared.

“Have you been… seeing him?” It’s the first time since that night that they’ve talked about Steve. His hands are squeezed tight.

“No! God, I would never go behind your back. I haven’t talked to him since then, I promise. I’ve been giving him space, trying to let him come around on his own time, but…”

“But you miss him.”

His world is falling apart.

“Have you been in love with him this whole time? That day in the music store, did you like him then too?”

“No. Maybe? I, I really don’t know. I don’t think I ever saw him that way. I didn’t even consider it a possibility until he—“

“Yeah, until he fucking kissed you!” He pulls his hands away and doesn’t miss the fact that Eddie didn’t try to hold onto them.

“Until he kissed me.”

Why must it hurt this much?

It always hurts so much.

His body is shaking but he avoids any attempts of Eddie trying to comfort him. Can’t bear the way he looks at him scared and careful like he’s trying to calm a wild animal.

Everything was perfect.

They could’ve been perfect,

If it hadn’t been for one fucking kiss from some guy that can’t stay out of people’s relationships.

“He’s stealing you away and you’re letting him!”

“He’s not stealing me, Adiel! You can’t steal people away like that, they have to be willing to go.”

“Willing to leave me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you, Eddie.” It’s a dirty trick to say it here and now, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Adiel needs to say it. Needs Eddie to know.

Some sick part of him enjoys the hurt look that crosses Eddie’s face, but it’s not close to feeling vindicated.

“I fucking love you, Ed.” He whispers it this time.

“I… I loved you, Adiel. Wish I could’ve loved you longer.”

“It’s been months since he kissed you. He might not even like you that way anymore.” Might not love you the way I can. “I don’t understand, how can you throw away everything for a maybe?”

“It wouldn’t be fair for any of us if I stayed. I know I’ve been absent minded, know that you could tell that I didn’t have my all in us anymore. You deserve someone who doesn’t make feel that way. Adiel. I don’t have any right to ask, but can you you try to understand—“

“Then don’t ask! You shouldn’t! I don’t want to hear about what you think that I deserve. Just, just leave. Please.”

“…Will you be okay?”

“No, but I’ll have to be. Go, Eddie, I’m not yours to worry over anymore.”

He doesn’t know how long he stays on the kitchen floor. His head hurts, his heart feels empty. His nose won’t stop running no matter how many times he wipes away the snot with his sleeve.

He must look like a mess. Look unattractive.

Adiel feels unattractive.

He didn’t even notice the sound of someone unlocking the door and step in until familiar arms are around him. He’s engulfed immediately in warmth and the scent of coconut. Vanilla.

A humorless laugh escapes him, Eddie must have called her.

“I love him, Tiff. There’s something wrong with me.”

“Oh babe, no. No. Nothing is wrong with you.” She rocks him in her arms, tucking him into her neck. Her signature afro puffs tickle his nose. The same hairstyle she’s kept since they were kids.

“Just haven’t met the one right?”

“You’ll find them, babe. You still have us. You still have me. Now and until the next life.”

“‘Til the next life, Tiff.” A pinky promise as old as time.

He curls further into her and not for the first time he wishes that they were straight. That they could feel that way about each other.

Life would have been so much easier.

They would have had much less heartbreaks, and maybe, he wouldn’t have been so broken.

Part 2 < 💛 > Part 4

[wonderjanga]

Sharing Can in Fact Lead to Caring

Sometimes Billy doesn’t need Solomon. Sometimes, Billy just says whatever that comes off the top of his head, it can be surprisingly helpful at times. (Billy doesn’t realize most of them are just coming to their dad figure for advice)

Such as the time Wonder Woman came to him concerned about time dilation. When Solomon explained what that meant, he had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about. Basically, she was worried about the afterword of the Justice League and her friends and how she would outlive them all. He brought her ice cream and they talked it out. In a way, he supposed he understood her. Billy couldn’t remember his mom or dad’s faces or personalities. He only had Captain Marvel to go off of and he guesses Mary, but she looks more like a young version of their mom. In the end, after much talking and trying to show he understands her worries, she seemed to be doing better.

Then, there was a talk with J’onn. The Martian had confided in not feeling at home with the humans. Not that he blamed him. J’onn had lost his home. So, Billy talked with him. Again, sort of relating. The way the Martian described missing his planet, reminded Billy of how he’d missed his parents. By the end of the talk, the Martian seemed to feel a little lighter after it.

Then, there was this kid.

Little Girl: *sitting on a bench alone*

Marvel: “Hey there, miss. Where are your parents?”

Little Girl: *stares* “There not here.”

Marvel: “Why’s that?” *sits down next to her*

Little Girl: *shrugs*

Marvel: “Well, then do you have any guardians?”

Little Girl: “I think so, but I don’t really like her. She’s mean. I don’t think she likes me or my foster siblings.”

Marvel: “Oh? You’re from foster care?”

Little Girl: *hesitantly nods head*

Marvel: “And I’m guessing you ran away?”

Little Girl: *nods again* “Are you going to tell on me?”

Marvel: “No. I ran away from my foster homes all the time.” *shrugs, doesn’t know why he’s saying this but might as well go with it*

Little Girl: “You did?”

Marvel: “Yeah. They were all terrible. And the ones that weren’t terrible were just neglectful.”

Little Girl: “What does neglectful mean?”

Marvel: “It means not paying attention to something. Like for example, I had this foster parent who would go days without coming home, leaving me and the other kids to have to feed ourselves. She wasn’t paying attention to us or our needs.”

Little Girl: “That’s sad.”

Marvel: “Yeah, it is. So, why did you run away from your foster home?”

Little Girl: “The lady who adopted me throws stuff when she gets mad. She’s mad a lot.”

Marvel: “That sucks. I had a foster home like that too. He would throw a bottles, forks, books, whatever he could get his hands on.”

Little Girl: “You did? Did you think it was scary?”

Marvel: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “You know, a friend of mine got adopted recently.”

Little Girl: “Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he’s been with them for about half a year now. He says they’re great. They’ve been fostering kids for a while apparently too.”

Little Girl: “That sounds nice.”

Marvel: “It is. Do you want me to ask about it?”

Little Girl: “Huh?”

Marvel: “Do you want me to ask him if there’s any spots open?”

Little Girl: *stares for a bit* “Yeah.” *stomach growls*

Marvel: “Alright, then I will. Now, how long have you been on the streets?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm… a couple days.”

Marvel: “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” *stands up*

Little Girl: “Really?” *hops off the bench*

Marvel: “Yeah. You feeling chili dogs or tacos? Those are the only two vendors I know that’ll give me something free.”

Little Girl: “Tacos, please.”

Marvel: “Alright then- uh, my bad. I never asked your name?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm it’s Darla.”

Marvel: “Darla? Alright then Darla.” *fatherly ahh smile* “Let’s go get you some food, ‘kay?”

So ya. He met Darla. She’s a sweet kid. He would need to ask Freddy more about the Vazquez situation. Hopefully, just hopefully, they could squeeze the little girl into their family.

Also, uh… I guess in this AU, Freddy met the Vazquez and got adopted because he went back into foster care for a bit for whatever reason. There, he got adopted into the family. Darla joins after him for this post to work.

[bbyseok]

thinking about your boyfriend gojo satoru who starts floating every time you kiss him on the lips, and you finally have your first make out session with him.

gojo satoru x gn!reader, suggestive

“baby, puh-leaseeeee!”

being gojo’s classmate-turned-friend-turned-partner, you’re pretty used to the sorcerer’s occasional pouting ‘n whining, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so desperate before.

you’re in the confines of his dorm room, seated on his bed, facing each other with your legs crossed and knees brushing against his.

it had been like any other lazy afternoon with each other, munching on snacks after the completion of another easy mission when your boyfriend had suddenly grabbed ahold of your hands with a single proposal,

“wanna make out?”

he swears up and down that nothing wonky will happen to his cursed technique once his lips are on yours, but you’re not too sure about that.

you toy with his slender fingers absentmindedly, “i don’t know, ‘toru..”

“sweetheart, you’re telling me you haven’t thought about us making out before?” he huffs and puffs like a kid who isn’t able to stick his hand in the cookie jar, but then again, that sounds just like satoru.

“what? no. i mean- i guess i have…” you try to brush off the fact that you’re getting kinda.. flustered. he’s just so damn insistent about this.

of course you’ve thought about kissing him more.. passionately. it’s just that you also have placed thought in how it might go—with you two up in the air.

a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s not one of those smug, arrogant ones he usually offers his opponents. it’s something more along the lines mirth and affection.

“sooooooo….”

you roll your eyes. “fine.” his eyes light up and before he can cheer, you add, “but the second something goes wrong we’re stopping.”

“yeah, yeah,” he says, but it’s rushed and hurried—excited. admittedly, you are too, as he shuffles closer with a giddy grin.

his eyes are unwavering in their stare even as the corners crinkle up along with his grin, and it only serves to make you smile fondly in return.

unlike your very first kiss, gojo moves in before you—he leans forward and captures your lips with his. the two of you have never kissed for longer than a few seconds, but then he’s suddenly angling his head to deepen it and your breath is stolen.

where the hell did he learn to kiss like this?

you have no time to gather your thoughts, rather going on instinct as you feel satoru’s hand come up to cradle the side of your face, swiping his thumb over your cheek with a tenderness that makes you melt further into his touch.

gojo makes out with you like he’s been waiting for forever to do this, which might not be so far from the truth. you return his enthusiam, fingers tangling with the snowy locks at his nape.

he’s a bit sloppy with it, but you hazily think that’s a given since he’s never made out with anyone before and holy shit—you’re actually making out with him.

it’s the loud sounds of wet lips smacking against each other, all hot ‘n heavy, that make you blush and feel warm all over.

gojo hasn’t started floating yet, and you only know that because he’s leaning forward even more, crawling and invading your space until its no longer yours, and you have no choice to fall back onto the sheets.

his arms cage you in as he hovers over you now, and his lips leave yours for only a few fleeting moments before he’s kissing you fervently again.

everything is going okay (more than okay), satoru is still in control of his powers, you’re getting a lil’ breathless and—

uh oh.

gojo pulls away only by a few centimeters, lips still brushing against yours, but you can feel his panic as his eyes widen and he’s pulling even further away.

you know you said you’d stop if his powers started getting out of control but you’d be damned if this stopped now, so you grab him by the collar of his shirt and shove him back, a yelp leaving his throat when you straddle his lap.

“there,” you huff out, the edges of a smirk on your lips now that you’ve found a little solution to gojo’s floating problem. you laugh a bit breathlessly, “now you can’t float away from me.”

with his cheeks flushed a pretty pink and his sky blue eyes wide, for once satoru looks like he’s at a loss for words as he blinks up at you. he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, “well damn, babe, if i had known you’d be this forward i would’ve done this a lot soo-”

you roll your eyes again with a slight grin. “shut up, ‘toru.”

satoru grins, but you make good on your words by pulling him by his shirt again to effectively shut him up with your lips.

(and, well.. let’s just say something else goes up whenever you make out with him.)

[cigarettessmokeandberries]

Fixer Upper Part Two (Melissa Schemmenti x reader)

The coffee machine is fixed and Gregory has won educator of the year! But, Melissa has to write his congratulations speech on top of her double classes. Only one solution...

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

The following day, the news found its way into Abbott- in honor of Gregory’s educator of the year award. Unlucky for Melissa, they chose her to present the award, adding more stress onto the older woman. She’s already stuck with two classes for the year.

After hearing of Melissa’s bad luck, Y/n set to work coming up with a speech about Gregory, but given his own inability to compliment his self and Melissa’s idea of re-gifting, she has her work set out for her.

A few moments after sitting down at her desk, Jacob rushes up to her, slightly out of breath.

“Y/n, Melissa is acting very strange around me and I am worried she might try to attack me.” Jacob says looking around as if she could be around any corner.

“Jacob, what?” Y/n questions with a worried smiled. Jacob moves around the desk and leans onto it before answering

“Ever since this morning she’s been giving me approving looks here and there and I am worried she is buttering me up so it will take me by surprise when she attacks.” Jacob whispers out. Y/n has to hold in a laugh looking at his worried face, knowing now what he is talking about.

“Jacob, if i tell you this you have to promise to keep it to yourself.” Jacob’s face drops from fear to a small frown as he leans in

“I won’t tell a soul.” He promises. Y/n knows better than to believe him but hopefully he will only tell Janine. If not, maybe she is slightly fucked.

As Jacob leans into listen, Y/n tells him about her run to Melissa’s favorite coffee shop yesterday and the note she left on her car with a forged signature. Jacob’s face breaks out into a giddy smile as she finishes her sentence.

“Oh my god, you are crushing hard.” Jacob gushes as he crosses his arms, leaning back on the desk. Y/n slaps his arm.

“Shut up. There is nothing wrong with being nice to someone.” She replies.

“I think you exceed being nice burning up your fingers on a coffee machine for Melissa.” Jacob jokes, backing off from the desk.

“I did that for everyone!” Y/n mumbles to him.

“Yeah? What’re you working on now?” Jacob questions as he goes to look at the speech Y/n is currently working on. She quickly turns it over before sending a glare Jacobs way.

“I kinda wish Melissa was gonna beat you up now.” Jacob raises his hands in surrender before walking out of the office.

Y/n lets out a sigh before flipping the paper back over and scanning her work. She didn’t have a crush on Melissa, she’s pretty sure she’s too far deep for that. Plus, she is grown woman, and grown woman don’t have crushes (she definitely has a crush on Melissa).

---

---

---

Lunch time arrives at Abbott and Melissa finds her seat next to Barbara and starts grading some of her classes work, needing to take this time in order to be able to finish both classes in a timely manner. As the teachers fill in to the breakroom, Jacob walks up to Melissa and she raises an eyebrow in his direction.

“You’re welcome, Melissa.” He says giddily before taking his seat. Melissa sighs before nodding her head toward him. Jacob’ll take what he can get, and that is all he will get. Melissa turns back to her phone, taking a break from the mountain she has left, before she turns back towards Jacob, having noticed Y/n’s absence for the second day in a row.

“Hey, Hill, where’s the other one of ya’?” Melissa asks, looking toward the empty seat beside Janine, who also looks up at the question. Jacob pauses for a moment “uh-” he starts but gets cut off from the door opening. Jacob lets out a breath of relief seeing Y/n walk in as he turns back to his conversation with Janine.

“You weren’t here yesterday and you were late today, what are ya up to?” Melissa raises her eyebrow up at her, suspicious.

“I just forgot my lunch in my car,” Y/n lifts up her lunch bag and takes her seat. Melissa stares a little longer before Jacob butts in.

“You never worry about anyone else who’s late.” Jacob whines, slightly offended. Melissa levels him with a glare before Janine pipes up as well.

“Seems like you like Y/n.” Janine jokes smiling. Her smile fading when Melissa moves her glare towards her.

“I just noticed it, pipsqueak.” Melissa tuts, taking a glance at Y/n who’s smiling down at her lunch. Melissa gives Janine and Jacob one more Schemmenti glare, returning to her phone once again. Barbara barely catches a small smile.

---

---

---

“-cause you can’t choose when people acknowledge you. This is your moment.” After searching the school for Melissa, running short on time to get the speech to her, Y/n overhears Melissa’s encouragement to Gregory in his classroom. The cameras outside the room zoom into Y/n waiting outside the door and then back to Melissa and Gregory’s conversation. As they continue their conversation, Y/n recalls all the times Melissa has gone without acknowledgement, and although everyone does, it just doesn’t seem right that a woman who does so much for the students and school doesn’t get the acknowledgement she deserves.

Y/n is brought out of her thoughts as Gregory makes his way out of the classroom, Melissa following behind.

“Hey, Melissa,” Y/n shouts, catching up in pace with her and handing her the speech. Melissa looks at the paper suspiciously for a moment before turning her gaze to the younger woman.

“What’s this?” Melissa starts to look over the paper. eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

“I know you were struggling to write the speech, so I thought I would help you out a little and write a small one. You already have so much to deal with, with two classes, and I just thought I would be able to take some of that stress away. I’m sorry if I-” Y/n’s rambling is cut off by Melissa’s hand on her shoulder.

“Hun, I can handle it. You don’t need to worry ‘bout me. But,” Melissa looks around and seeing the halls empty continues “Thank you. I appreciate it. This whole thing has been a shitshow.” Melissa jokes, smirking at the younger woman.

“Yeah, no problem. Only took a few minutes.” Y/n brushes off the praise, even though it did take going through Gregory’s work file (which Ava had yet to update) and a short snoop session through his desk to find something to fill the lines.

“Thanks, hun.” Melissa lifts the paper up with a smile and a nod before starting to walk toward the gym.

“Melissa,” Y/n calls out before she can get too far.

“Huh?” Melissa turns back and raises an eyebrow for Y/n to finish.

“I just-,” Y/n cuts herself off, trying to find the words, before taking a breath and meeting Melissa’s eyes, “I notice you, Melissa. You’re a great teacher and I- You deserve a lot more acknowledgement, that’s all. But, for whatever its worth, I notice you.” Y/n bites her lip, waiting only a moment for a reply, before fleeing down the hall.

Melissa watches Y/n down the hall, a realization kicking in as she turns into the gym.

*She’s never told Jacob about her favorite coffee shop*

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 7

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: TW/ the topic of suicide.

First - Prev - Next

CH.7

“You really need to tidy this place up, Stanford. I know you live by yourself, but that’s no excuse to have papers and books scattered around like a dust devil came through.”

“It’s organized chaos, Fiddleford. I know where everything is.”

“And this pile of unwashed laundry?”

“I’ll get to it. Washing clothes is a waste of time, and I’m a busy man.”

“Uh huh, and this pile of unopened letters on your counter? What are all of these, Stanford?”

“Several of our colleagues started sending me letters en masse.”

“And you didn’t open or read them?”

“I received so many at once, it must have been an invitation for a convention. I wasn't interested in attending one at the time. I’ll get to them eventually.”

“These are dated over a year-.”

“Eventually.”

“You’re stubborn as a mule. At least wash your dishes. You’ve been categorizing your notes for the past hour - what are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to find the definitive event.”

“For Stan?”

“Yes. You said that something extremely traumatic caused the memory loss; if I can identify what event exactly caused this, maybe I can fix this. The problem is, however…”

“Is that you’ve handled the situation in the most extreme way you could think of?”

“No. That isn’t it- and that isn’t true.”

“Mhmmm.”

“The problem is there’s too much.”

“Too much?”

“Trauma. He’s offhandedly mentioned terrible things- even when I met him in town, he had three stab wounds and acted like it was no big deal. And the more we ask, the more we prod, there’s more. The ones we heard were just the ones he was comfortable enough to mention, there has to be worse things he will not or can not speak of. And that thought… scares me, Fiddleford. I knew he wasn’t doing fantastic, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be this bad.”

“That’s not your fault Stanford - didn’t you say he left home? It is sad he was too stubborn to ask you or anyone else in your family for help, but I suppose you two have that in common yeah?”

“...”

“I’ll admit that might have been tactless of me- Stanford? What’s- Hey! Hey now, it’s okay! It’s okay- I’m here for you.”

“...Five.”

“What’re you whimpering into your hands, now?”

“Five times. He wrote me a list of people who have tried to kill him in the past. There were thirty names.”

“That’s terrible, but not entirely surprising from what he’s-.”

“He listed himself five times.”

(...)

“How could you be so selfish?”

“I’m a selfish guy, I dunno what you want me to say.”

“Why do you only ever think of yourself?”

“Can’t afford not to. It’s dog eat dog out there, you know.”

“Will you take this seriously?”

“Will you tell me what you’re upset about this time? I can’t read minds, and I’ve known you for four days! Throw me a bone here, PhD.”

“You tried to- to take your own life?”

“Yeah. A couple times. Never succeeded, but that’s the story of my life.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you try something like-”

“Okay I’ve had enough of your judgemental bullshit. I’ve been playing along with your ‘missing twin’ narrative, the least you could do is not fucking go there. I’m a homeless criminal on the run all the time. You tell me why you think I’d want to die sometimes.

Use that big fucking brain of yours for two seconds and think statistics - homeless people kill themselves more than ‘regular’ people, so do prisoners and convicts. You’re both? Oooh boy you’re in for a time. You have to fight to survive all of the time, and sometimes… sometimes you just get so tired, you want to stop fighting you… you just want a break from it all. You want it to just end.”

“Stanley…”

“...”

“...Talk to me. Please. I’m not trying to judge you, I just want to understand.”

"...Let's say I am this mystery twin-"

"You are."

"I'm being hypothetical here, listen. Let's say I am this mystery twin of yours. Specs was saying he didn't even know you had a twin."

"How did-."

"You pressed the mute button, not deafen; I could still hear you. Anyways, your best friend didn't know you had a twin. So to your own best friend you never mentioned 'me' over what, at least 4 years or however long it took you to get a degree? Or in the years that followed? Not even once?

If I'm your twin, I can't have been that important for you to do all of this. I screwed something up, and you don't want me in your life."

"..."

"I don’t know what you're trying to prove here- if you’re going through some guilt or pity or whatever. I'm just some drifter! I don’t have anything, and I don’t have anyone. You shouldn't be wasting your time like this. I'm not worth any of the time or effort you’ve put into this. Even if I was who you think I am. Because that guy? That guy fucked up so badly you didn't think about him for ten years. And I'm not different."

"Is that... is that what you think about yourself?"

"Stanford, that's all that I know about myself."

*Ford abruptly opens the barred door and walks through the forcefield into the cell*

"Woah woah, I'm not looking for a fight-."

*Ford hugs him, Stan just stands there*

"I wish you called, reached out to me, I-. I wish I reached out."

“...He probably wishes he reached out, too.”

To be continued...

[pocket-watcher]

I really loved the massage fic you did awhile ago! I don't really have another idea but could you do another one like that?

Hiya anon! My ongoing back pain and I can definitely dream something up for you!!

“…Why the hell are you standing like that?”

Aiysha’s disapproving gaze looked over Henry, who was contorting his body to stand in the most unnatural way possible.

“This is the only way I can stand where the pain is tolerable.” He whined.

Aiysha tutted. “You’re a grown man, Henry, I told you that this was going to catch up with you! You can’t sit like a gremlin while you work anymore.”

Henry shifted, whimpering in pain quietly.

Aiysha cared. A lot. More than she’d like to admit, and seeing her friend in pain? Well…

“Ugh. Fine, look.” She fished a card out of her purse and handed it to Henry. It read:

DR. MONTGOMERY

Liscenced masseuse and chiropractor

The address wasn’t too far from his house, Henry thought to himself.

“When I broke my back he worked magic. Maybe he’ll be able to help you.”

Henry thanked her, and she pulled him into a hug, and he felt his back twinge in pain.

Yeah, he’d need to make an appointment. Today, if possible.

—————————

“Henry Williams?” The receptionist called out.

He stood, and allowed himself to be navigated to a room where presumably Dr. Montgomery was waiting for him.

“Ah! Henry! What seems to be the problem?” The man asked, as Henry hopped up onto the massage table.

“So, uh, my posture isn’t great, and my whole back hurts. I don’t think it’s like anything wrong, just all my muscles aching a lot.” He explained.

The doctor scribbled some notes as Henry talked.

“Okay, if you can take off your clothes and lie down on the table then we can start, and if the problems persist I can talk to you about further treatment. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great, thank you!” Henry began unbuttoning his top and the doctor looked away. Henry positioned himself, a towel covering him.

As he put his face through the hole in the massage table he noticed a screen below it.

“Oh, cool! What does this do?”

He could hear the doctor approaching him.

“We use it to play soothing music and visuals to help our clients relax. Here, let me show you.”

The doctor bent down and flipped a switch. The screen came to life, playing a soothing video of the ocean.

Henry felt the cool touch of hands on his back and allowed himself to melt into the table.

Dr. Montgomery’s hands worked expertly, as if the man knew exactly where the pain was coming from.

Henry bit back moans of relief, trying to focus on the screen below and not the glorious feeling of relieved tension.

The screen might have glitched a little. It was like another image was burned on top of the calming beach video.

He didn’t cock his head in confusion. No, it was more that the doctor had moved it to one side to get at a particularly bad knot in Henry’s shoulder.

A few moans escaped.

Henry kept watching the video. He realised they were words. Words burnt into the screen. He tried to make them out as his body sank into the massage table.

S…sub…mit?

That’s weird, he thought to himself.

Another:

Obey.

Giv…e in

Relax

The words became clearer the more he focused on them.

Deeper

Pleasure

Control

Henry’s mind, unfortunately, was too relaxed to panic. The combination of the calming atmosphere, the relief of the massage, and the subliminal messaging being beamed into his brain for the last 10 minutes had carefully moulded him into a puddle, with any resistance leaving his body with every moan and whine.

Dr. Montgomery tutted.

“You’re not taking care of yourself. You need to sit properly. Stand every once in a while. Maybe even a light stretch.”

The words washed over Henry, taking up all the free space that PAIN had previously occupied. He tried to agree, to nod, but all he could do was stare.

“Once this massage is over you’re going to forget all about this little talk we’re having, and you’re going to start being more sensible with how you work and how you sit. Aren’t you?”

Henry murmured in response. Which turned into a heavy breath as the doctor pushed down onto a sore point.

“Atta’ boy.”

Aiysha waited outside for Henry, but something was pulling her inside. Sure, her back was fine now - but a little self pampering never hurt anyone…?

Before she could make an appointment Henry, with a spring in his step, greeted her outside.

“You look better.” She grinned.

“I owe you, like, my whole life. Dinner? On me?”

Aiysha smiled at the building.

“Sounds great.”

[wufflesvetinari]

hi!! okay so i really loved that one fanfic you wrote (3:16) way back when, it's honestly one of my favorite fanfics ever but I have a question for you!! I've honestly adored your writing style and techniques and I was wondering: what is your writing process? Not just plot wise (although yes that!) but also prose-wise? because honestly, the first thing that drew me into your fic was how FUCKING good your prose was and I was just in absolute awe reading what you had written, and it sort of started me on a journey to improve my own prose and make it sound nice.

so uh yeah!! what is your writing process and if you have any advice for how you write so beautifully (Not just prose wise!! plot and character wise too haha) or just like. writing advice in general, i am ALL ears <3

oh this is so incredibly sweet, thank you!!!

i've tried to marshal some thoughts...tbh i am always envious of effective writing that is UNLIKE mine, so there are lots of ways to go about this. (and also i am just Some Guy.)

i'll focus on prose things i think about during writing/revision b/c otherwise we will be here all night...but imo some of this overlaps with effective pacing, character, etc.

Prose is character – some writing is “voicier” than other writing is, living closer in a character’s POV.  but in most cases, if you are in any way in a character’s head, your prose is part of their characterization. dick grayson will use different words and notice different details than damian will. being intentional about a character’s voice has the nice iterative effect of strengthening their characterization, which then makes your prose more confident as you understand their voice, and on and on it goes

Allow “workmanlike” phrases – sometimes cliché exists for a reason; you don’t actually need every sentence to be a poem. in fact, you NEED simple writing to string together your powerhouse lines without turning it all into purple prose/losing the reader/ruining the pacing.

Examine “workmanlike” phrases – that being said, another failure mode is RELYING on these phrases instead of digging for something more interesting now and then. i might write the phrase “a chill went down her spine” – ok this is fine, but I’ve read this sentence 15,000 times in my life and seeing it in my own document should be a trigger to slow down and decide if there’s a more specific or vivid description that conveys character or mood or theme better. or is just prettier lmao. i think to myself: how does it feel to be scared? what is a physical reaction that’s REAL that i have experienced, and am not just taking from a list in my head called “Descriptions Of Being Scared That Writers Use”?

The fucking thesaurus lmao – do not find/replace willy-nilly obviously BUT if the only word you can think of is Not Exactly The Right Word Dammit then the fucking thesaurus is a perfectly valid brainstorming tool to get closer to what you are trying to say. even if u don’t find the right word, it’s often a jumping-off point to a better way to approach the sentence

Note your “is”es – ok this is the annoying one. imo this really strengthened my writing but i hated it so so much. when revising, find any instance of “is/was/seems.” (ex: “He seems impatient, and there’s a pile of paperwork sitting in front of him.”) There’s nothing WRONG with that sentence, but it’s worth checking to see if it’s an opportunity for a more active one that gives more character detail (“He taps impatiently on a pile of paperwork.” there. done.)

Condense – ok look at that example again. i phrased things more actively but i ALSO condensed two concepts (He seems impatient + there is paperwork) into a sharper sentence that ALSO tells us a bit about how this character acts when stressed. imo you can accidentally find really interesting prose this way, in addition to improving pacing.

Vary sentence structure – that being said, sometimes the way to go is a beautiful run-on, so long as that sentence has intention packed into it! if you are writing long lovely flowing sentences, it’s going to hit hard if you drop the emotional reveal in a short, choppy, standalone one. or if your sentences shorten as the mood of the scene changes, or or or.

Use detail to let a scene breathe – personally, i never want to write the phrase “there was a pregnant pause” or “there was a brief silence” if i can help it. this is personal preference, but i think the principle stands: you can instead control your reader’s sense of timing, create an implied pause, by giving detail in the right place. the reverse is why it bothers me when a conversation is interspersed with paragraphs of introspection lmao: in my head i’m wondering why pov is taking so long to respond

Use repetition – oh my god this is my cheat code. if you are really proud of a beautiful, distinctive phrase you wrote? use it again!!! make it a callback at an important moment!!! make it thematic!! do it on purpose. trust me it’s cool

Get out of their head – ok here’s an experiment. take a concept (“Dick is scared”) and tell yourself that you have to express this, but you CAN’T describe anything about Dick himself in order to do it. you can use the way the crumbling buildings of gotham loom above him, or the weather, or the way people react to him—but you cannot say a word about his actions or thoughts or feelings. chances are, you’ve now created some interesting prose getting at the concept abstractly. cool! use that, and also go and add the direct feelings back in if it makes sense to do so

"Unconscious" writing - uhh ok this one is weird, but sometimes for a VERY early draft—like, when I am staring down the blank page—I will stop…trying to write a story? I will instead begin to write, uh…poetry about what is happening in the story? Just, impressions, details, stream-of-consciousness…this will all have to be cleaned up and made linear later. but for now, go nuts. and usually it gives me a) some workable, pretty prose and b) an entry point into what i am trying to say so i can go back and write the “real version”

Dissect!! Good!!! Writing!!! - i'm sorry, this one is so boring. but if there's a writer who really WORKS for you, read very slowly and break down what's so effective about it on a prose level. i do this with ursula le guin. also, do this with poetry!!! which poems slam you to the ground and take your lunch money? how?

i know you also asked abt plot and character but i've already written so much lmao plz forgive me. i am not a big craft book person but i did enjoy refuse to be done and a swim in a pond in the rain. i also try to collect tips i find in this tag!

[bropunzeling]

53 Quinn/Brady?

holding the other's jaw

"It's not that bad."

"Hold still."

"Quinn. C'mon." Brady laughs, then winces. The cut on his chin, which had finally seemed like it would stop bleeding, opens up again.

Quinn swipes at it with the pad of his thumb, blotting the blood away. "I said, hold still."

"So demanding." Despite his complaining, Brady obligingly continues his slouch against the bathroom counter, letting Quinn tilt his face this way and that. Quinn has to stand between his legs in order to get close enough to see, but he doesn't have room to think about that compared to the cut still sluggishly dripping along Brady’s jaw, threatening his t-shirt.

"I'm not the one who got smacked in the face," Quinn says. He reaches past Brady for the Kleenex, running the faucet and getting it wet before carefully dragging it along Brady’s jaw. Brady hisses, then bites his lip. "Can't believe you let Lukey get you like that."

"He’s the one waving his stick around," Brady huffs. As Quinn dabs at his chin, he closes his eyes. Brady's eyelashes are so pale they're almost colorless, only visible from this close. His throat bobs as he lets Quinn tilt his face again.

The bleeding has slowed again, but Quinn keeps touching Brady, unwilling to pull his hand away Like this, Quinn can feel the flutter of his pulse under his fingers. It might be the most fragile thing about Brady.

"Okay," Quinn says, a few seconds later than he should.

"Yeah?" Brady’s eyes open. They really are very close together. The insides of Brady’s knees are pressed against Quinn's thighs. Despite how cold the bathroom is, Brady’s warm. "Think I'm gonna make it?"

Quinn swallows. He looks at Brady’s chin, scratched up, at Brady’s lips, red from his teeth tugging at them. "I don't know," he says. His voice is husky. "Could be touch and go."

Brady’s throat clicks. Quinn looks up. Brady’s looking at his face, expression open in a way that's unfamiliar. Like he wants something from Quinn, something newer than friendship. His heart races under Quinn's fingertips.

The screen door slams. Voices start yelling. Quinn jolts back, looking around. No one's found them yet, but maybe no one should. Not like this, close enough that they could be -- Quinn doesn't let himself think about it. "I, uh," he says, coughing. "I'll go see who won."

"Yeah." Brady’s voice rasps. When Quinn looks at him again, whatever that expression was, whatever it is he wanted -- Quinn can't figure it out anymore. "Report back."

"Yeah," Quinn mumbles, and bolts.

There's still a bit of Brady’s blood smeared on his thumb. It tastes metallic when he sucks it away.

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[serpentface]

Do you conlang? I was wondering if you had naming languages (or possibly even more developed ones) for pulling the words you use. I tried to search your blog but didn't find anything, wouldn't be surprised if the feature is just busted tho. Your worldbuilding is wonderful and I particularly enjoy the anthropological and linguistic elements.

Ok the thing is I had kind of decided I was not going to do any conlanging because I don't feel like I'm equipped to do a good job of it, like was fully like "I'm just going to do JUST enough that it doesn't fail an immediate sniff test and is more thoughtful than just keysmashing and putting in vowels". And then have kinda been conlanging anyway (though not to a very deep and serious extent. I maybe have like....an above average comprehension of how language construction works via willingness to research, but that's not saying much, also I can never remember the meanings of most linguistic terms like 'frictives' or etc off the top of my head. I'm just kinda raw dogging it with a vague conceptualization of what these things mean)

I do at least have a naming language for Wardi (and more basic rules for other established languages) but the rudimentary forms of it were devised with methods much shakier and less linguistically viable than even the most basic naming language schemes, and I only went back over it LONG after I had already made a bunch of words so there's some inconsistencies with consonant presence and usage. (This can at least be justified because it IS a language that would have a lot of loanwords and would be heavily influenced by other language groups- Burri being by far the most significant, Highland-Finnic and Yuroma-Lowlands also being large contributors)

The 'method' I used was:

-Skip basic construction elements and fully move into devising necessary name words, with at least a Vibe of what consonants are going to be common and how pronunciation works -Identify some roots out of the established words and their meanings. Establish an ongoing glossary of known roots/words. -Construct new words based in root words, or as obvious extensions/variants of established words. -Get really involved in how the literal meanings of some words might not translate properly to english, mostly use this to produce a glossary of in-universe slang. -Realize that I probably should have at least some very basic internal consistency at this point. -Google search tutorials on writing a naming language. -Reverse engineer a naming language out of established words, and ascribe all remaining inconsistencies to being loanwords or just the mysteries of life or whatever.

I do at least have some strongly established pronunciation rules and a sense of broad regional dialect/accents.

-'ai' words are almost always pronounced with a long 'aye' sound.

-There is no 'Z' or 'X' sound, a Wardi speaker pronouncing 'zebra' would go for 'tsee-brah', and would attempt 'xylophone' as 'ssye-lohp-hon'

-'V' sounds are nearly absent and occur only in loanwords, and tend to be pronounced with a 'W' sound. 'Virsum' is a Highland word (pronounced 'veer-soom') denoting ancestry, a Wardi speaker would go 'weer-sum'.

-'Ch' spellings almost always imply a soft 'chuh' sound when appearing after an E, I, or O (pelatoche= pel-ah-toh-chey), but a hard 'kh' sound after an A or U (odomache= oh-doh-mah-khe). When at the start of a word, it's usually a soft 'ch' unless followed by an 'i' sound (chin (dog) is pronounced with a hard K 'khiin', cholem (salt) is pronounced with a soft Ch 'cho-lehm')

-Western Wardin has strong Burri cultural and linguistic influence, and a distinct accent- one of the most pronounced differences is use of the ñ sound in 'nn' words. The western city of Ephennos is pronounced 'ey-fey-nyos' by most residents, the southeastern city of Erubinnos is pronounced 'eh-roo-been-nos' by most residents. Palo's surname 'Apolynnon' is pronounced 'A-puh-lee-nyon' in the Burri and western Wardi dialects (which is the 'proper' pronunciation, given that it's a Kos name), but will generally be spoken as 'Ah-poh-leen-non' in the south and east.

-R's are rolled in Highland-Finnic words. Rolling R's is common in far northern rural Wardi dialects but no others. Most urban Wardi speakers consider rolling R's sort of a hick thing, and often think it sounds stupid or at least uneducated. (Brakul's name should be pronounced with a brief rolled 'r', short 'ah' and long 'uul', but is generally being pronounced by his south-southeastern compatriots with a long unrolled 'Brah' sound).

Anyway not really a sturdy construction that will hold up to the scrutiny of someone well equipped for linguistics but not pure bullshit either.

[hecatesbroom]

Blanche's grandma's place is the only place she felt consistently loved in... no I'm fine. I'm fine

[spotaus]

Coda and Ichor! (Catacombtale Style!)

These two don't have a *ton* of interaction in the Main story, but since Ichor and Balance are the only two characters I've fully designed, Coda gets stuck next to him, haha!

BONUS art jumpscare:

These two actually exist in another project I'm working on too called Codex, which is basically just removing the UT aspects of Catacombtale and doing a lot more worldbuilding and character design!

Coda is older in Codex and is marked by an old God (which should get him jailed or killed, as it means for everyone else) but he hides it for years and years before he finally flees the complex he's living in to go confront the gods and stop their destructive path. Meanwhile Ichor is much the same, only he's much more ready and willing to help Coda without much prompting. Here he's also sort of a Koi Fish! (His brother is a Betta Fish)

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[weaselishmcdiesel]

getting older means rereading your favorite reader insert fic and making art of it because nothing else really matters

chains by valentinesdaygreen (i usually read it on quotev) edit: that fic deserves a lot of content warnings im not going to list them all here but uh please reader discretion advised

[unproduciblesmackdown]

(genderly) chill as hell if i was only ever glimpsed / detected like this

[angryteapott]

I'm seeing stuff saying that "it wasn't bullying" and "it was a crush haha" and yes it was hilarious and toxic and how kids act but it was still bullying. I mean point blank smacking a ball into someone's head is bullying, but also I thought it was made clear that it was because Yiyong was pissed about Guangyan scoffing at his career choice??? Yes yes the obsession the staring they also had crushes... but they were still fighting??

Something can be hilarious and playground and clearly badly expressed emotions (and Guangyan had adults in his corner and didn't seem traumatized so it's not evil and more exasperating) but it's still bullying