#you hurt me again and again and again

[midnight-coffee94]

No single line has ever wrecked me as hard as this one from the Good Place and I think about it constantly

[lotus-pear]

do you finally see me?

[myheartxmyman]

Du bist es Riehm schuldig? In vier Todestagen haben wir nicht einen wirklich miteinander verbracht... Ich kam mir sogar abgefickt vor. Im Stich gelassen. Konnte mir dann noch anhören, dass es meine Schuld ist.. Ich fühle mich null wie eine Priorität. Nicht unterstützt. Fühle mich nicht so, als wäre ich in einer Partnerschaft. In den letzten sieben Tagen hast du Riehm wesentlich öfters gesehen als mich. Scheint dir egal zu sein, oder eher sogar ganz Recht.. Du meintest gestern "ich hab morgen noch nichts vor", ich hab mich mal wieder dumm wie ich bin darauf eingestellt, dass wir was machen.

V: "komm ich danach dann zu dir?"

M: "Lass das gleich besprechen wenn Post, Lauffen und mein to do Punkt abgehakt sind."

Aus diesem Gespräch wurde ein "ich fahr jetzt zu Riehm, du kannst ja mit wenn du möchtest, bins ihm schuldig."

Wow...

Dann frag ich "mit wohin?", keine Antwort aber online...

Ehrlich gesagt finde ich, dass du mir was schuldig bist nach Dienstag und Mittwoch letzte Woche. Donnerstag war zwar auch alles andere als toll, allerdings habe ich mich selbst dafür entschieden. Zwar nicht ganz "freiwillig", weil ich wusste "entweder ich komm mit, oder wir sehen uns wieder nicht".

Und ich Depp hab grad wirklich geschaut wo Milky Chance nächstes Jahr Konzerte gibt. Duisburg, allerdings spielen dort auch deichkind, kontra k und einige Andere welche du nicht sonderlich magst... Australien, Neuseeland und Florida. "Australien und Neuseeland schon im Januar, zu früh um das nötige Geld anzusparen" war mein Gedanke. Also Florida... Ich hab nach Flügen geschaut, nach Hotels in der Nähe und nach den Festival Tickets. 12. April bis 14. April.

Ich wollte dir zwei Karten + zwei Flüge schenken & eine Unterkunft. Wollte dir die Wahl überlassen, mit wem du dorthin gehst. Wohlwissend, dass wir bis dahin eventuell kein "wir" mehr sind, oder besser gesagt noch weniger ein "wir" als jetzt. Wissend, dass du eventuell bis dahin sogar mit einer neuen Freundin dorthin gehen würdest.

Allerdings hat mich deine Nachricht, in welcher du mich mal wieder vor vollendete Tatsachen gestellt hast, obwohl wir meiner Meinung nach was geplant hatten, kalt erwischt. Hätte nicht gedacht, dass das nach den letzten Wochen noch möglich ist... Mein Herz bricht jeden Tag mehr. Wenn du "uns" bzw die Beziehung nicht mehr möchtest, warum beendest du sie dann nicht? Ich hab das Gefühl, du versuchst mich mit deinen Taten dazu zu bringen, die Beziehung zu beenden. Ich bin so verwirrt, so verletzt, verständnislos, fühl mich im Stich und allein gelassen, unwichtig, ungewollt. Es tut wirklich weh, und jede dieser Aktionen der letzten Wochen zerstört. Zerstört mich, zerstört was wir haben/hatten, zerstört mein Vertrauen in die Menschen generell, macht mich misstrauisch, zurück haltend, vorsichtig.

Mein erster Gedanke auf deine Sprachnachricht "morgen hab ich zum Beispiel noch nichts vor", war die Antwort "noch". Ich hätte es wissen sollen. In letzter Zeit hab ich zu oft anderen abgesagt, weil ich lieber mit dir sein wollte, am Ende saß ich alleine da. Wieder und wieder. I feel caged sometimes.

[basalting]

after jasons death bruce "accidentally" slips harvey a crowbar while hes in arkham and kisses his cheek and says, voice soft and colder than ice, "make him hurt for me honey"

it takes 6 guards to sedate and drag two face off the joker the next time two face sees him and for the rest of their lives as soon as harvey sees the joker he goes after him like a rabid dog.

[shushmal]

okay but a like post-series fic i want that's like: steve harrington being the only man left in hawkins fighting monsters

and not like a 'everyone died, last man standing' way but just. they beat it back, the story ends, nice little tie-up and neatly concluded, eleven loses her powers because their world is completely cut from the other. and life goes on. eddie (yes, eddie lives au don't fight me) goes off with his band, robin-nancy-jargyle off to separate cities for college. the kids go to high school, graduate high school, and scatter across the country. joyce and hop buy a beach house far-far-far away from goddamn hawkins indiana.

steve though. steve stays. he does it too without comment, takes all their calls telling him all these amazing things. the years pass. the calls are fewer and far between. he's mostly in contact with only dustin and robin. except robin's out of country doing some crazy temp job in some remote country, she never catches him at home right now so just leaves him messages. and it takes a couple of weeks for dustin to realize he hasn't gotten steve on the phone.

frantically he calls around "have you heard from steve???" except the most people talk to steve anymore is like phone calls during holidays and holy shit what could have happened??

and what if it's back?

cue everyone who can in that moment, rushing back. eddie hopping on a flight from fucking london direct to indianapolis somehow, heart in his throat. he manages to meet hopper in the airport and they pick up max and dustin at the bus station.

they get to hawkins that is even more different that what they left. a smaller town, a town that shuts down completely when the sun sets. it's creepy and deserted.

except for the fucking upside down monsters of course.

and they're in their stupid little rental in front of this demogorgon and they're screaming but then the thing just goes splat on the concrete and steve fucking harrington is blinking owlishly at them.

"Oh, hey guys!" he calls jogging up to the driver's side window. "Wow, what brought you back down this way? You should have told me, I would have told you about the curfew!"

turns out steve just forgot to pay his phone bill that month, didn't even realize he was missing calls and he's been fighting monsters the entire time because actually they WEREN'T cut off from the upside down at all and he's just been casually fighting monsters for the remaining hawkins residence—the whole town knows now and steve's the guy you call when you have a monster problem

sidebar: WAYNE still lives in hawkins, and he and steve are best friends, eddie munson you are gonna LOSE YOUR MIND

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

‘Poseidon left a party in Ethiopia because the sea vibes went rancid after Odysseus set sail’ feels like a bit I would make up, but no. That actually happened.

[pencil-n-pen]

Princess ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until final’s season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.

next

cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?

Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leon’s very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wowee so i’m not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 here’s to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyone’s recovering well from finals!

— ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.

However. There were some… extenuating circumstances.

Finals. They’re a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.

You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the other’s resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your “no-fun attitude” but they’re crying over their grades and you’re not, so.

Well. Actually you’re definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because they’re bad. Just because you’re tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you can’t afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didn’t have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how you’re going to use your degree after you graduate and—

Most of the time you try not to think about it.

So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. You’re totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true?)

You don’t hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. It’s fun! It’s just… not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. You’d prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? You’re not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. You’re not really sure how your friends convinced you.

But you’re here, in makeup and an outfit you like (you’re thankful this isn’t one of the ‘put on a tight dress and dance’ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. It’s a house party, so it’s not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties you’ve been (read: dragged) to, but still.

You’re on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isn’t starting to give you a headache.

Ada Wong, a girl you’ve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.

Leon Kennedy.

On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, he’s the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.

It’s complicated. You’re smart. He’s smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.

But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.

The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you can’t fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.

That and the fact that you haven’t sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? You’re sure the heart palpitations are normal.

You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couch— you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming late— so now you’re pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.

Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, he’s a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. It’s nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.

You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt? It’s cold!

You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.

Don’t fall asleep in public places.

Don’t fall asleep at someone’s house you don’t know.

You know the owner of the house, you think. You’ve been here once or twice. But you don’t know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because they’re not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, don’t let your friends down, don’t be that girl who falls asleep at the party, don’t—

You jolt again.

Wake up. You tell yourself. Leon’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.

It feels like a record skip. You’ll blink, and the conversation isn’t the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isn’t the same. Were the lights always this bright?

“Whew!” Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? “Someone’s got final’s exhaustion written all over their face!”

The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesn’t. Why isn’t he laughing?

You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leon’s.

“Sorr—“

“Stop that.” He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.

This is wrong. It’s Leon. It’s Leon. You can’t. And this is a party, and your friends are here—

“Stop being stupid,” You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. “Squeeze.”

You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like you’re slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get some—

“I can hear you thinking,” He says, voice deep and rumbly. It’s honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. It’s probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.

“You have a heart?” You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement

“Mhm,” He rumbles. “I am in possession of one. Great observation princess.”

You frown into his chest. “Why are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. I’m not a princess.”

“I’m not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.”

“Then how come you call me that?”

“Because,” He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position that’s more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.

It’s nice. It’s possessive. Protective. No one’s ever really done that for you before. Usually it’s you doing the protecting.

You don’t want to relax. You can’t. You can’t.

“Because,” He continues, “Princesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.”

You should get up. Apologize for how weird you’re being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isn’t this.

“Go to sleep,” He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. “Nothing‘s going to happen to you while I’m here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, I’ll kick their ass. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to give in after that.

You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with it’s strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent that’s distinctly Leon.

Just for a few minutes. Because Leon’s watching. He won’t let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. You’ll get up soon. You will.

He tucks you closer to him. “Sleep.”

You’re out like a light.

—

“No way, she’s actually asleep?”

“Holy shit Leon, did you drug her?”

“I did not.”

“Well, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. We’re all starting to get worried about her. She doesn’t take any breaks and she doesn’t let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means she’ll actually get some fucking sleep. It’s unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.”

“Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

—

It’s horrific, running into him in the library.

What makes it more horrible is the fact that you’re ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because it’s always empty. You’re ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.

You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.

“We’ve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.”

“Oh?” You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. “I wasn’t aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?”

He tilts his head. “Why the English textbook section? It’s one of your best subjects.”

“It’s the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isn’t going to bat an eye at me.” You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“One of your roommates called Ada. They said you haven’t been home since this morning. They thought you might’ve been at hers, or with me.”

You snort. “It’s like they don’t even know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think they were hoping you’d be there. I think anyone who knows you knew you’d be here.”

“Crying in the English section?”

“In the library, dumbass.”

He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

“Tell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?”

You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. “Dick.”

He shrugs. “Just want to know. I can’t exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if you’re not in top form. I want a fair fight.”

“Is that what you're here for?” You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” He says calmly. “I’m here because you’re being stupid again. You know what’s not healthy, or smart?”

He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. “This. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Where’s those brains you brag about?”

“They’re up here,” You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. “And they’re tired.”

You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. You’re tired of being tired.

“Annnd there it is. Come here.”

He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.

“Come on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and think—

He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.

“There. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.”

You sniffle. “I’m getting snot on your sweatshirt.”

“It’s had worse on it.”

“Gross.”

You can practically feel the eye roll. “Can you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.”

You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.

“Why do you care if I feel better?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs against you.

“Told you,” He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. “My competition’s no fun if she’s not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?”

“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you to swoop in here, Leon.”

“Mhm,” He says. “And i’m sure you do great at it, considering you’re still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this… self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.”

“Who taught you self care?”

“Ada. We have face mask nights.”

You jolt up. “Is she—“

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re not fucking, no she’s not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.”

You begrudgingly settle back against him.

“If anything,” He continues. “She’ll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.”

You frown. “I never said—“

“You only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. It’s really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. It’s the way you dress.”

“How so?”

He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

“You wear your pick-me-up pants when you’re dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.”

You sit up with a gasp. “My hot pants?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them?”

Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. “Hold on. Did you just say—“

“I said what I said. I’m assuming there’s a reason you call them your hot pants.”

He smirks, and you flush.

“Moving onto more pressing matters,” He tilts his head at you. “You have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.”

“How did you know I like the—“

“The icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.”

You look up at him. “You remembered?”

“You were wearing your hot jeans.”

“You’re the worst.”

He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. “Maybe.”

You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?”

You frown into his shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Ocean’s movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.”

“I do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.”

“Ada bought those, didn’t she?”

“Nope,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. “Chris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.”

Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. “How many of my friends are you friends with?”

“I was friends with them first.”

“Ass.”

He chuckles incredulously. “For having friends?”

“Yes,” You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. “How dare you.”

“Mmm. I see. My apologies, princess. I’ll tell Chris and Ada.”

“You get on that.”

You can’t help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.

“Don’t touch my papers, I have a system.”

“Is the system absolute chaos?”

“Shut up.”

Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leon’s arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.

Your expression grows pinched. “I can carry my own bag, Leon.”

“I know you can.”

“Give me my bag.”

“No.”

You groan. “Why do you want to carry my bag?”

“See, there’s this thing called chivalry—“

“Oh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?”

He shrugs. “Ever since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. “And you’re stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.”

You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.

Maybe you could get used to this.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[electronicmail]

Firefox-official vs electronicmail

Hydrogen bomb vs coughing baby

okay come up with a better idea then. firefox-official is gone asshole it’s electronicmail or nothing

[mamawasatesttube]

what WERE tim and kon doing in that closet together that made kon have to get dressed afterwards anyway? wrong answers only. i'll start i think they were playing two person strip poker but tim cheated like a motherfucker. actually wait that doesn't make this sound any less gay. um. hold on. there's gotta be something. um

[rebellum]

Fellow trans people I'm begging you to remember that being trans isn't the Only Oppression Ever. Racism exists. (I'm looking at you, white trans people!!!) Being white gives you privilege. Being perisex gives you privilege. Being able bodied gives you privilege. Being a citizen of your country gives you privilege. Living in a developed/first world country gives you privilege. Being a settler gives you privilege. Not having an intellectual disability gives you privilege. Not being severely mentally ill gives you privilege. Being housed gives you privilege. Having internet access gives you privilege. Speaking the dominant language of your area gives you privilege. Not living with addiction gives you privilege.

You are not the most oppressed person ever on earth, white able bodied perisex trans person. Even with being trans, if you're eg from America, canada, western Europe, or Australia, you absolutely have way more political power than eg some cis het indigenous man in rural Brazil.

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[collophora]

Fics rec of the week, and especially if you like well-written Wrecker, is the entire work of @electrikworm on AO3 In order:

The Batch have a terrible day

Human Shield

A peaceful moment

(But go read the others too)

[snail-noodle]

shadow milk lovers! come get ya juice!!

gif credit to @murahaul 💙

–––

past!shadow milk cookie who enjoys laying curled around you whenever he finishes his studies and lectures for the day. these moments are rare between the two of you. being both a hero and a highly esteemed principal of a grand academy, there's no doubt shadow milk cookie's free time is very minimal.

he sighs in bliss as he gently pulls you closer to him, snuggling your neck and basking in your warmth. truly, he wouldn't trade these moments with you for anything less.

beast!shadow milk cookie who has gotten used to the lack of touch of another being after so many centuries being sealed away. the moment you embrace him, his entire body and mind freezes up. such actions of affection had become foreign to him. it takes him a while to not freeze whenever you hug him, kiss him, or even just hold his hand.

fortunately, as you spend time together more and more, he's the one who begins to initiate such affections. it's a slow process, but it's improving...

past!shadow milk cookie enjoys watching you do mundane tasks around his castle. he had reassured countless times that doing such tasks isn't necessary. he has loyal servants at his beck and call that can do those chores for you, but you wave it off every time. he was baffled at first, but as time went on... he started noticing small things from you. how you would hum a little melody whenever you would prepare food for the both of you. how you would have a small smile whenever you dusted off and rearranged the couple of bookshelves in your shared room.

the little things...

beast!shadow milk cookie who firmly refuses to allow you to do any type of chore in his castle after his return. he wants your complete and undivided attention at all times! if you ever start mindlessly sorting out books, one of shadow milk cookie's servant will gently nudge you away and continue the task for you.

"his majesty calls for you, my lady." you leave with a huff. even trying to do a simple task will cause one of his servants to appear out of nowhere to stop you and send you back to him. he wants you nowhere else but near to him.

past!shadow milk cookie who enjoys taking long walks with you amongst his garden at night. after a long day of teaching magic and providing knowledge about the world, he enjoys taking the moment to stand beneath the stars. it's even more pleasant when you're there to accompany him. hands intertwined, hushed conversations shared amongst the both of you, and the stars twinkling high above. what could be a better way to end a busy day?

beast!shadow milk cookie will gaze up at the moon and the stars that surround her with you by his side. instead of the gardens, the two of climb up his highest tower for a clearer view of the sky. despite everything, shadow milk cookie still retains the mannerisms from his past self. with a gentle, but firm grip on your hand, he matches your pace as the two of you ascend up the tower.

he knows he could easily just carry you and take flight up to the top, but he'd rather spend this moment to have a conversation you. the moon and stars won't be leaving anytime soon. why the rush?

past!shadow milk cookie enjoys holding your hand and seeing the vast size difference you share. just like his fellow friends, shadow milk cookie is a tall individual (the perks of being one of the first cookies). seeing just how small, how fragile you were, he just can't help but feel a rush of protectiveness course through his dough. everything about you, no matter how small, deserves to be kept safe.

beast!shadow milk cookie who constantly teases you about your height. he enjoys sneaking up on you from behind and lifting you up in the air with a spin! even now, he enjoys the height difference and he makes sure to let you know with his words <3 either by teasing you or whispering it to you as he holds you close in an embrace.

past!shadow milk cookie who is quick to guide you away at the first sign of danger. unlike burning spice or anyone else, past!shadow milk cookie is a man who rarely gets mad. if anyone dares to or/and ends up hurting you... well, facing the wrath of an immortal is impossible to survive from.

beast!shadow milk cookie won't even try to see or figure out why someone would attack you. if he senses danger, he's quick to cut it off before any harm is done to you. danger lurks at every corner now that he's free from the tree. because of who he is, it's no surprise that there's cookies appearing in his kingdom to take him out.

it's amusing to watch a cookie try to harm him. sometimes he even allows them to almost come close to landing a mark on him. when it comes to you, though? he doesn't even bother turning the attacker into a puppet, he's quick to slash right through them without a smile.

it's all fun and games for him... until it involves you.

[ato-dato]

Concussion?? I hardly know her