Tumgik
#and angst too tho
hislittleraincloud · 7 months
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✨San Francisco Haul✨
SNS for shit pix (my elderlies were trying to sleep).
I had to go into the city for a doctor's appointment and was too tired to think. All of this 💩 w the Cat Bitch just stressed me out so I got a bunch of stickers and sugar to heal my soul. Yeah, I collect stickers... I'm turning 50 this year too, what of it. 💀 They're scratch n' sniff. Couldn't pass over those. I like my new Pez dispensers...Imma eat out of Marilyn's tits apparently. Kinda wish it was just her head though.
LOVE my new Jairo notebook. 😃 And my little Toki monkey... it's the blind I wanted (on sale at It'Sugar) 🫴🏽🐒🍌💖✨
But Tor, why are you getting a new Jairo notebook if you're almost done with the fic?
...*crawls out from under a heavy tome of Jairo fic, throws a couple pages up in the air and runs...again*
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allykatsart · 8 months
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The Fall of Joy
Masterpost
An idea that I pray does not happen. I stg Emily better be safe and happy these next two episodes-
Hypothetical Fallen Angel Emily! Because this angst would not leave my brain. It hurts to leave heaven, but she won't be alone. If Emily was cast from heaven, I think the hotel would welcome her with open arms...
Commission me
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luna-loveboop · 3 months
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I find it funny that Wild, who has basically a couple years ish of full life experience, comes up with the most insane theories for everything
He assumed that the only other explanation to Four being able to split in Four was. That he was quadruplets who'd been hiding this whole time???
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Also apparently he believed that his wolf companion Twilight in botw was a diety (and felt very uhh shocked upon finding out that he was not)
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Malon made things worse, telling him about her aliens theory
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What's even FUNNIER is that every time Wild expresses any sort of confusion at magic stuff that he's never seen before, everyone else in the chain acts like it's crazy for him to be weirded out by it
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Honestly maybe Wild's the only one with his head on straight, rather than everyone else who are just like 'it's magic bro' like no he's right this is weird
I appreciate this because it's very considerate of the fact that he woke up with no memories not too long ago, so he doesn't have much experience to explain the stuff that's 'normal' for the chain. Plus the explanations he comes up with are funny.
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:)
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Art and comic and adorable character by Jojo @linkeduniverse au :D
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spacebubblehomebase · 2 months
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RADIOAPPLE COTL AU!
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"What do you do when a mere scapegoat becomes so enamored with the God Of Death that they actually look forward to dying again and again just to see Him?"
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"What do you do when said God Of Death yearns for the sacrificial lamb's PERMANENT DEATH and this very thought is actually the reason He smiles at them?"
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"But it's only because He wants to own them FOREVER the only way He knows how??? ...For His Vessel's soul to be HIS to keep."
Basically, this is my COTL Radioapple AU idea! (NOTE: Read it all over again! This time, just the yellow highlighted words for a different experience and perspective on things! 😉 Trust me on this.) -Bubbly💙
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dietmimo · 3 months
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HSY: *feral screaming and cursing*
DKOS: I said I was sorry.
HSY: *feral screaming and cursing INTENSIVES*
----
[ID: Animated Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint fanart. Kim Dokja is in Demon King form, and he's much bigger than Han Sooyoung, who's comparatively tiny and is clinging to his nose and face while furiously yelling and thrashing around as Kim Dokja nervously tries to appease her. End ID]
ID by @princess-of-purple-prose
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lunalivvy · 1 year
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jordan playing it off bc they think marie only hooked up with them bc their minds got messed with so they’re acting indifferent towards the situation even tho they obviously like her and she likes them back but now she thinks they don’t like her like that because-
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steddiehyperfixation · 10 months
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don't you forget about me (part five)
(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)
No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve:
Steve sat in the back of Eddie’s van, lounging against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, perpendicular to Eddie who sat against the back of the seats, legs also kicked out and propped up on top of Steve’s as they passed a joint back and forth, talking and laughing about everything and nothing. The windows and doors were closed to keep the night’s cool summer breeze out and the smoke in, the air in the van pleasantly warm and thick and hazy; their minds so too. 
Steve took a hit of the joint and attempted to blow smoke rings when he exhaled, making funny shapes with his lips and failing so spectacularly it made Eddie burst into a fit of raucous laughter. He threw his head back with it, hysterical and giggly in his high. Steve shoved at Eddie’s legs in mock offense at being laughed at, but it lacked heat, and he’d already caught the giggles from him too. 
“You’re really beautiful, you know,” Steve said, dopey smile on his face as he watched Eddie laugh. 
Eddie snorted. “And you’re really high.” He plucked the joint out of Steve’s hands, not giving the compliment much weight at all. People just say things sometimes when they’re too high, and he knew Steve’s tolerance for any sort of substance had gone way down since he’d gotten caught in that mall fire a couple weeks ago. Something to do with trauma or whatever. 
“Yeah, I’m gone,” Steve agreed, blowing a raspberry at him. “But I meant it, though,” he said. His dazed eyes drifted lazily over Eddie’s face. “I think it all the time sober too, every time you laugh or smile or the light hits you just right. You have pretty lips and pretty eyes and pretty hair.” 
“Yeah, it’s the long hair, man.” Eddie laughed, genuine but dismissive, taking a hit of the joint and saying on the exhale, “Got the wires all crossed in that lovely little head of yours. Your high brain’s just got me confused for a girl or something.” 
“No.” Steve frowned at him, bottom lip jutted out in a pretty pout as he shook his head. “I’m not confused. I don’t think you’re a girl. I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy.” 
“Hm.” Eddie took another hit, felt the weed float through his veins, cloud his mind even further. “In that case…” The smoke escaped past lips stretched into an unsuppressable grin. “You wanna know a secret?”
Steve angled his body towards him and leaned forward in interest. “Uh huh.” 
Eddie snuffed out the joint, pushed away from the back of the seats, and pulled his legs off of Steve, sitting back on his heels instead as he shifted to face Steve better and move closer. Inches apart now, Eddie brought a hand up to Steve’s cheek and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy too.”
Steve giggled, smile wide and cheeks pink. He hooked an arm around Eddie’s waist and swept him onto his lap, making Eddie giggle too as he was pulled in close. Their foreheads rested against each other. Steve’s heavy-lidded eyes settled on Eddie’s lips, and Eddie thought he got the hint. He leaned in, and for a second Steve leaned in too, only for him to duck away at the very last second, the would-be kiss amounting only to the barest brush of their lips. A small whine, confused and wanting, escaped involuntarily from the back of Eddie’s throat. 
“Waitwaitwait-” Steve said, one hand pressed lightly against Eddie’s chest to hold him back. “We should be sober first.” 
Eddie huffed, but agreed, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” His hand still cupped Steve’s face though, thumb running over his cheekbone as he asked, “Will you even still want to kiss me when you’re not high?” 
“Of course I will.” Steve leaned into his touch. “Will you?” 
“Of course I will. Have you seen you?” Eddie said with a light laugh. “How could I not?” 
Steve grinned, bumped his forehead against Eddie’s again. “I’m gonna kiss you breathless when we’re sober, I promise.” 
“You better.” Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek instead, for now. “I’m holding you to that, pretty boy.” 
He was rewarded with another giggle and both of Steve’s arms wrapping around him now to pull him closer to his chest. Eddie slipped an arm around Steve’s waist too and settled against him, curled up so that he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. His other hand dropped from Steve’s face and drifted instead to land on the bicep of the strong arms that cradled him. 
The giggly elation of their high was beginning to give way to a stoned sleepiness, the weed-soaked air draped around them like a blanket. They probably could’ve fallen asleep like that - it wouldn’t have been the first time they’d passed out back there after a smoke sesh - but the air would soon grow stale, not to mention every breath inside the hotboxed van only maintained their intoxication and Eddie kind of really wanted to be sober as soon as possible. 
“It’s getting late,” he mumbled, reluctantly pushing himself away from Steve. “We should head inside.”
“Yeah, alright.” Steve, equally reluctantly, let go of Eddie and let him leave his lap. 
They separated to climb out of the van and make their way to the trailer and back to Eddie’s room to get ready for bed, but they gravitated towards each other again, drawn together like magnets once they laid side by side under Eddie’s sheets. It was almost unconscious, really, the way they both reached out and pulled each other close. 
By the time morning came, they were completely intertwined: both of them had both arms wrapped tight around the other, their legs entangled, Steve’s head tucked beneath Eddie’s chin and face buried in his chest. Eddie idly ran his fingers through Steve’s hair; Steve stirred at the touch and muttered a muffled, “‘Morning,” which Eddie softly echoed. 
Steve pulled his head back from Eddie’s chest then and shifted himself up so that they were face to face - or, more accurately, nose to nose. “Oh.” He smiled a little. “Hi.” And Eddie echoed that too, with a matching small smile. 
“About last-” Steve started to say, at the same time Eddie began to ask, “Did you-?” They both broke off into a light chuckle. Steve shook his head and said, “Sorry, you go.” 
“Did you mean what you said last night?” Eddie asked, voice quiet and careful and hopeful. 
“Every word,” Steve replied, his gaze soft as his eyes met Eddie’s. “Did you?” 
“Every word,” Eddie confirmed. A slow grin spread across his face, and he slid his hand from Steve’s hair to trace his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “You have a promise to keep now, big boy.” 
“That I do,” Steve agreed with a smirk of his own, pulling Eddie closer.
Their lips met, properly this time. Steve kissed him gentle and sweet and slow, and Eddie all but melted into it, a syrupy warmth flooding his veins. He kissed back, matched the pace. Steve flipped them over, pressing Eddie’s back into the mattress as he deepened the kiss and settled his weight on top of him with a languid, full body roll. Eddie moaned softly beneath him, his lips parting to accept the caress of Steve’s tongue which licked into his mouth in easy, tender strokes. His hands curled in Steve’s hair again and in the fabric of his shirt, back arched in an attempt to press himself even closer as Steve continued to kiss him like he was drinking Eddie in, like Eddie was something precious and Steve was determined to savor every taste. It was dizzying, hypnotizing, thoroughly fucking intoxicating. 
When Steve finally pulled away, Eddie was pretty sure he’d forgotten how to breathe, how to speak. He stared up at him, dazed, eyes wide and mouth still open soundlessly. 
“Told you,” Steve said, a smugness in his smile, “breathless.” 
“Man of your word.” Eddie found his voice again, remembered how to pull air back into his lungs. “An attractive quality,” he murmured before tugging Steve down into another kiss. 
This one got a little more heated. It was Eddie who took control this time, and he kissed Steve with fervor. He switched their positions, rolling over so that Steve was the one lying beneath him now, Eddie’s body grinding down as he landed on top of Steve. It was not soft and neither was the sound Steve let out in response: a guttural groan that rumbled against Eddie’s lips. Eddie swallowed that sound, bit down on it, devoured it; craved more of it. He left Steve’s mouth to kiss down his neck, scraping his teeth against those stupidly biteable moles and sucking a bruise onto the skin. Steve’s breath stuttered; as Eddie paired the lovebite with another harsh grind, Steve’s hips bucked up to meet him, pulling another deep groan from them both. 
“Eddie,” Steve gasped out then. “Eddie, we should slow down.” 
Eddie immediately clambered off of him. “Right, yeah. Too much. Sorry.” He put some distance between them, sitting more towards the edge of the bed and looking away awkwardly.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Steve said as he sat up and shifted closer, placing a hand over Eddie’s. “I just- I don’t want this to be just that.” His other hand reached up to turn Eddie’s face back towards him. “I want something real with you. I want to do things right.” 
“Oh. Yeah, I wouldn’t just-” Eddie shook his head and smiled softly instead, taking Steve’s hand from his face and holding it. “I want something real with you too.” 
Steve sighed, smiled with visible relief. He squeezed Eddie’s hands. “Okay, good.” 
Eddie’s stomach grumbled audibly then, and he said with a grin, “So, how about you take me out to breakfast, sweetheart, and we can go from there?”
Steve laughed. “Sounds good to me,” he said, leaning in to give Eddie one more lingering kiss first. 
Eddie wakes up wanting, a deep ache in his heart like there’s something missing now that he’s awake. Steve is still holding his hand, and Eddie looks over to see the guy passed out in the bedside chair, head lolled to one side, mouth open, a line of drool crusted down his chin. It’s disgusting. It’s fucking adorable. The ache in his heart twinges.
“Goddamnit,” Eddie groans to himself. He knows what this is. He’s got a fucking crush. On Steve fucking Harrington. Of all people. Of course he does. 
For all his anti-jock rhetoric, even for all his protests yesterday about not being obsessed, Eddie always did have a sort of fascination with Steve Harrington in high school. More of a passing fancy, really. He thought Steve was attractive, sure, but in the way a celebrity is attractive - unobtainable and unreal - so it was always more like Steve was just his favorite reality TV show rather than an actual crush. But now Steve is real, and worst of all, he’s kind. King Steve Intangible Hot Asshole Jock Harrington is now Sweet Lovely Gorgeous Goofy Perfect Steve who holds Eddie’s hand when he’s scared and tells stupid jokes to make him laugh and always seems to know exactly what he needs, so of course Eddie never stood a single goddamn chance. Of course Eddie only had to spend one fucking day with this man for his old teenage fascination to trip and start falling for him, for Eddie to start having stupid, sappy dreams about him. 
Because Eddie’s sure that’s all it was. No way was that dream a memory; his brain was just taking bits and pieces of what Steve had said yesterday and filling in the blanks with fantasy. Dumb, sweet, soft, romantic fantasy. Complete with fucking yearning and shit. 
Eddie groans again. Why couldn’t it have just been a sex dream? He knows how to handle sex dreams. Sex dreams don’t come with actual feelings. 
Steve begins to rouse then, probably stirred awake by all Eddie’s grumbling. 
“Morning, sunshine,” Eddie says as Steve lifts his head and wipes the crusted drool from his mouth. 
“Eddie?” Steve rubs his eyes with one hand, then blinks and squeezes Eddie’s hand with his other as his face breaks into a smile. “Hey, you slept through the night!”
Eddie snorts. “You don’t have to make it sound like I’m your infant child reaching a milestone.” He puts on a slight character voice, pitching up his inflection, “‘Baby Eddie slept through the night for the very first time! Mommy Steve was finally able to get some rest!’” 
“Ew.” Steve wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, even as he scoffs out a laugh. “Do not call me mommy.” 
“Oh, sorry, would you prefer daddy?” Eddie asks with a smirk and raised eyebrows. Because he’s stupid and has no fucking filter. 
“Uh-” That startles a nervous chuckle out of Steve, pretty pink blush blooming in his cheeks. Then he closes his eyes for a moment, shakes his head again, and takes a breath to regain his composure. “Yeah, no, that’s not my thing either.” 
“Noted,” Eddie says, and then physically bites his own tongue to stop himself from asking something even more stupid like so what is your thing then? 
“Anyways-” Steve seems a little desperate to change the subject. “No nightmares last night?” 
“Nah.” Eddie taps his fingers against Steve’s hand. “You’ve got some sort of magic touch, man. I never have nightmares when I fall asleep with your hands on me.” 
Steve smiles at that, a small thing. “Told you I’d fight them off.” 
“Man of your word,” Eddie mutters. His heart gives a little lurch as he echoes his dream, a reaction which is consequently made clear and apparent for anyone to see by the immediate uptick of beeping from his heart monitor. So that’s going to be a problem. 
“Yeah-” Steve glances at the monitor, then back at Eddie, a concerned pinch between his brows (Eddie wants to reach up and smooth it away; his heart only beats faster). “Are you alright?” 
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Eddie glares accusingly at the heart monitor, like it’s betrayed him on purpose. “I don’t know why it’s doing that.” 
Steve doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I can go get someone to check on you-” He starts to stand like he means to leave, but Eddie tightens his grip on his hand so he can’t get too far. 
“I said I’m fine, Steve,” Eddie insists, a little sharper than he meant to. He takes a breath, smooths the edge off his voice. “A slightly increased heart rate is not gonna kill me, alright? You don’t have to worry about me so much.” 
“I always worry about you,” Steve mutters. Though he does settle back into his chair, he keeps eyeing the heart monitor and worriedly chewing on his lip - as if that’s going to help Eddie’s racing heart situation. 
“Okay, you gotta stop doing that, man.” 
“What?” 
“Acting all nervous like I’m about to drop dead,” Eddie says. “You’re stressing me out. No wonder my heart’s beating faster.�� 
“Right, sorry.” Steve looks away from the monitor and releases his lip from between his teeth, bitten red and plump now. Jesus. 
Eddie breathes in slowly. He can be calm, he can be cool. He takes another few breaths until his heart rate finally starts to chill the fuck out and the monitor stops beeping so incessantly. “See, I’m totally fine.” 
“Yeah.” Steve relaxes visibly. He squeezes Eddie’s hand, gives an apologetic smile. “Of course you are. Sorry I stressed you out.” 
“That’s alright.” Eddie smiles back with a shrug, brushing it off. “Means you care, Stevie. I appreciate it.”
Steve’s expression turns warm then, and about 95% of Eddie’s higher brain functioning is now completely focused on trying to keep his heartbeat steady under the glow of Steve’s smile and the warmth of his hand. He doesn’t even hear whatever it is Steve says in response, just lets the timbre of his voice wash over him. It sounds like something soft, something kind, but not something that requires a reply, so Eddie stays quiet and continues to count each beat of his heart in the easy silence that settles over them. 
Steve can’t decide if he wants to stay right here forever, holding Eddie’s hand and making sure he’s alright, or if he still wants to run so far from the ache it leaves in his chest. 
Hanging out with Eddie yesterday had been overwhelmingly bittersweet. It felt so good to laugh with him again, to talk with him the way they used to, to see his face all lit up and happy. It felt so good to know that Eddie wanted him there, that he enjoyed spending time with him. There were moments that set Steve’s heart aglow, moments so effortless, so simple, so them, that he could forget, just for a second, all that was still missing between them. But each good feeling came with a stinging aftertaste of grief as Steve would remember and he felt the difference in the depth of their affection like a great gaping chasm, vast and black and bleak. 
His emotions are frayed, all stretched and pulled in so many different directions at the same time. He wants and he worries and he aches and he loves; desire and despair.
Time makes his decision for him, though, as he catches sight of the clock on the wall and suddenly remembers, “Shit- I have to go, sorry. I promised Robin I’d finally come back to work today so she’d stop having to be stuck on shifts with Keith,” Steve says, starting to stand. 
“Oh.” Eddie blinks like he’s been startled out of a trance. A brief disappointment flashes across his face. “Okay.” 
“I’ll be back tonight, though,” Steve promises with a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “Soon as I can.” 
The corners of Eddie’s mouth tug up into a small smile then. “Yeah, I know you will.” He lifts Steve’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it before letting go. “You’re my good luck charm.”
It’s such a small, innocent thing, but it wrenches Steve’s heart. The feeling of Eddie’s lips lingers on his skin like it’s haunting him, taunting him; the barest trace of something that once was, a ghost of what he’s lost. It’s almost cruel. Steve hates it, and he aches for it. 
He’s quick to leave the room before Eddie can see the tears in his eyes. Steve knows Eddie doesn’t like to see him sad.
(part six) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)
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hyolks · 1 year
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look at what you did to him.
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mintypsii · 4 months
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guys i love them i promise i just have the urge to put them through the grinder sometimes
umm on the bright side here's the alternate good ending version lol!!!!!
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viperwhispered · 6 months
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Too Hard
Woop part 2 of the trip inside Jamil's head. Part 1 here.
The next time Jamil caught sight of you on campus, his first instinct was to turn around on his heel.
What a stupid thought to have because of you.
Besides, that would only make him more conspicuous, not less.
So, when your eyes met his, Jamil gave you a short nod in greeting. He would’ve left it at that and kept on his way, had you not walked up to him.
“Hi Jamil! How’s it going?” you said with that impossibly disarming smile of yours.
Why was it so difficult to look at you like he normally would? You had no right to make him feel so stiff, so unnatural.
On autopilot, Jamil exchanged a few pleasantries with you - those lessons from his parents had been instilled too deep in him for him to falter too badly in a simple exchange such as this. Still, Jamil quickly excused himself by telling you he still had to find Kalim before his next class.
Jamil didn’t miss the way your smile faltered. Had you hoped to get something out of him?
“Oh, okay. I’ll see you two later, then.”
Something about that irked him, though Jamil did not allow himself to dwell on it further.
His heart really had no business still racing as it did when he walked away, unaware of the frown on his face.
Just act normal. That’s all he needed to do.
After all, he had no time for dwelling in silly fancies.
If Jamil had been acutely aware of you before, it only seemed to worsen now that he was making a conscious effort to not act any differently with you. In fact, the harder he tried to keep you out, the more you invaded his thoughts, unsettling him.
The most innocuous words from you looped in his mind, and even the simplest actions caught his eye. For goodness's sake, he’d found himself staring at you while you were queueing up in the cafeteria the other day, not even doing anything other than standing around and looking bored!
For once, Jamil found himself grateful for all his duties. At least they provided him with something else to occupy himself with.
After all, if he was busy enough, it was difficult to think about those bright eyes of yours, your sweet laugh, or the way you bit your lip while thinking.
Still, sometimes it felt like no matter which way he turned, you were there, ready to throw him off-kilter. Not like it was his fault that often the most convenient route to class intersected with your daily routines. Or that your face seemed to jump out from any crowd, catching his attention.
Which certainly did not help his basketball performance. Jamil certainly did not recall you having such an interest in sports before, yet suddenly you were always there, distracting him. What had changed?
Could you possibly-
Jamil scoffed to himself, forcing his thoughts back on track for the nth time that day.
He picked up the tray of food and started taking it to Kalim. After dinner, he’d need to help Kalim with his homework, there were some housewarden tasks that would need dealing with, not to mention the preparations for the next-
Jamil froze in his tracks.
The voice he heard was quiet, but it was unmistakably you.
Really, it should not have come as such a surprise to him. You had become a rather frequent visitor to Scarabia, and Kalim often invited you to stay for meals. In fact, Jamil had started planning the dorm’s meal prep with your tastes and dietary restrictions in mind, just in case.
Jamil rounded the corner with strange exhilaration, his heart fluttering needlessly.
Yet, his mood evaporated when he saw you.
Why did you stop talking and look so guilty as soon as you caught sight of Jamil?
Jamil knew that look you gave to Kalim, had used it himself a thousand times. The one telling Kalim to keep quiet about something.
What could there possibly be that you would be comfortable sharing with Kalim, but not with him? That would give Kalim reason to sit so close to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder?
Jamil's mind raced with possibilities, yet could not settle for any single explanation.
He’d have to ask Kalim about it later.
Jamil gave you a short, polite greeting, his eyes lingering on you in an attempt to read what you were hiding.
“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve prepared something for you to eat as well,” Jamil said, already thinking about which parts of the dorm’s dinner to spruce up for you.
“Oh, no need, just figured I’d pop by. I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” you said, something sheepish about your expression.
As expected, Kalim asked you to stay and dine with them, and with just a bit more persuasion you agreed - though not before telling Jamil that he should join you too and have himself a breather.
And since Kalim agreed with you, Jamil soon found himself sharing a meal with you and Kalim. Yet, even as he sat down with the food, his mind raced.
Had you been getting particularly close to Kalim lately? But surely Jamil would’ve noticed such a thing. Maybe someone from the dorm had been giving you trouble? But if that was the case, then surely you could let Jamil know about it, too. Unless for some reason you did not want to? But if it was something that concerned Kalim, then sooner or later it was bound to concern Jamil, too.
All the while, Kalim was talking to you about this and that, the latest topic being the animals kept on the Asim estate.
“I’ve got some pictures, let me show you!” Kalim said with an excited grin.
Only, a thorough patting of his pockets and a look around confirmed that Kalim’s phone was nowhere to be seen.
Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. Where had Kalim left it this time?
Before Jamil even had the chance to say that he would handle it, Kalim sprinted off. Jamil hesitated for a moment, automatically halfway up from his seat, before he decided that leaving a guest unattended would be a worse offense than not helping out his master.
Jamil slumped back down with a sigh, mentally tracing the path Kalim took today, trying to recall the last time he saw Kalim handle his phone.
“Breathe. He’ll manage,” you said. There was the faintest of smiles on your lips, and Jamil could not decide if it was knowing or amused. Perhaps both.
Somehow, despite his frustration, Jamil’s own lips wanted to curl up too.
“Hmm. Maybe he will.”
Sure, Jamil could’ve called Kalim’s phone, to make it easier to find, but it was not that urgent, was it?
Jamil took another bite of his food, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.
How was his mind so empty and so buzzing at the same time?
“You know-”
“So-”
You looked at each other, both just as surprised that the other had spoken up at the same time.
Even your surprised look was so-
“You first,” Jamil said. The way you bit your lip... Jamil had to raise a cup to his lips, slowly sipping his drink.
“Just… Feels like it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you be still, you know. Or exchanged more than two words with you,” you said. You were attempting a light, joking tone, yet it was quite clear there was more to it.
“You say that like it would be unusual for me to be busy.”
He was not prepared for the way your soft sigh tugged at his heartstrings.
“No. It is not.”
You were both quiet after, poking at your meals. Normally, Jamil would’ve cherished such a moment of peace, yet this particular silence between you two was decidedly awkward.
Where was your usual chatter? Why weren’t you looking at him like you usually did?
“If you’re worried about me, don’t. I’m fine,” Jamil said, some softness creeping into his tone despite his best intentions.
“That's what Kalim said too,” you said. Yet the way you looked at Jamil made it clear you were still skeptical.
Wait.
Had you clammed up earlier because it had been Jamil you had been talking about with Kalim? That Kalim had comforted you about?
The thought twisted his stomach into knots.
Eta: you can find part 3 here, part 4 here, and finally part 5 here. Hasdhfsdf the way I fought with that last scene I swear. I don't even want to know how many versions I went through, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted without rubbing it into your face or making it too veiled. The joys of trying to convey things through a limited pov. Hopefully it came out reasonably balanced in the end. Rip to all those sentences that were lovely on their own but didn’t work for the whole. Hopefully I can rehome y’all one day. I do have thoughts for part 3 and part x (might be some chapters between those two as well, who knows at this point), so maybe we'll see those at some point, too. Tag list: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @twstgo If you'd like to be tagged for future works, let me know! (Just be aware that sometimes I do also write nsfw, though you can certainly ask to be tagged only for particular kinds of works.)
#twisted wonderland#jamil viper#twisted wonderland x reader#jamil viper x reader#ner writes#jamil definitely knows how to deal with his feels#also writing this is making me wonder how aware jamil is of his inner versus outer life#like he’s very aware of how he comes across because that’s what he’s been told to watch out for#but how well has he truly learned to understand himself and his own feelings wants etc?#(I mean as you can tell I’m assuming not very well)#originally this went to more of a “jamil hears just the wrong part of the conversation” route but#a) I kinda hate that trope especially when it’s dragged on beyond belief and#b) Kalim maybe doesn’t want to spill anyone’s secrets but he really is such an open book especially with Jamil so#also it’s not like jamil needs the extra help to catastrophize he already does that well enough on his own ��#tho then I went a little too far in the other direction and had to pull back#but let's just hope I didn't edit this to death by now#also also: since I seem to have a bit of a naming theme going on for this series#if I were to be the sort to go for the angst route what part would definitely be titled Too Late or something along those lines#also x3 but loved folks commenting on that part about reader being inoffensive in the first part#I certainly had fun writing that line#(and in general extra love to everyone who leaves comments on tags replies wherever always great to read those)#(and in general chat with y'all)
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zsofieia · 7 months
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i'll hold you when things go wrong. i'll be with you from dusk till dawn.
guys i finally found a Loophole for not being able to draw intense and expressive emotions
lookit this is just a blank expression but it’s still….. heavy……. right???¿??¿ he is KINDA intimidating….. RIGHT!!!???!?
i’ve always wanted to draw smth angsty….. halfway thru this drawing i had a thought that this could be what happened after this. error hops around the multiverse looking for ink and then when he finds him…… well……. he also finds somebody else possibly more threatening than he is
who could that be?
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aria0fgold · 5 months
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With a glass body
You bear the weight of the world
Praying for safety
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gabrielapazlima · 9 months
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HERE IS,FINALY- MY NEWEST AU: "TRAPPED"⛓️⛓️
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its kinda hard explain what exactly is about so i will be kinda vague yet straight:
if you wanna get surprised by future content plz don't read it!
Someone found an tape of the old cartoon smiling critters,and as an 80s fanatic he bring it home so he can watch it this single episode but... something is wrong,its an marathom of episodes that they never saw before and the characters are acting weird like something very wrong is going how and someone is...missing.
Being straight up: Catnap pulled out an Monika.
Yes,its setted in the cartoon universe and somehow catnap knows about the fact that they are in an cartoon, and he knowing this fact,that gives him certain...powers over THIS tape in specific.
He is stuck into an single episode loop forever,so he will find a way to make new advetures to keep the universe of this tape in specific keep going and keep his mind sane without caring about...uhh keep the OTHER critters's mind sane in result...
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Yea...They will NOT be okay...
thats its...for now,i want to be vague since i want to dig more into this au in the future( maybe in comic style👀) and keep certain things as an surprise so here go some out context memes about trapped bc i cannot keep myself serious for too long.
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soon i will post more about this AU now that will finaly presented the concept to you guys,if you guys have any questions leave in this post okay?
See you next episode...if you ever remember of me👀
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kaixserzz · 1 year
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The Fox, the Crow, and the Bunny.
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ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore and Gn!Child!Reader *ೃ༄
ੈ♡˳ 2.4k words ┊ Fluff *ೃ༄
ੈ♡˳ Masterlist | JLM Masterlist *ೃ༄
author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
something sweet. dedicated to @idyllic-affections thanks for writing my kaveh rq n this series is inspired by ur acc.. realized i strayed from the real purpose of this fic and made it too long, so just think of it as a 2 in 1 special lol,, (also hi sorry for using dottore he's like my muse and i love writing him) also i hope yall get the meaning of this shit lmao (ref to the scara quest tale)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: strictly platonic/familial, reader is 8 years old, basic dottore warnings, mentions of death, dissecting animals and injuries, implied dottolone (barely), a little ooc but it's canon to me
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Dottore's office was once a sacred chamber inside the Fatui headquarters.
While not relatively as pristine as his laboratory, amidst the chaos, there was order. Everything was in its designated place, even though his desk was a nightmare to whoever laid eyes on it (spilled coffee too busy to clean, now dried onto the wood of his table, piles, and piles of documents and papers stacked haphazardly on one another, a disarray of pens and pencils occupying every available niche, and vials filled with who-knows-what dangerously teetering on the edge).
Hazards lurked at every turn within his office, presenting a far-from-presentable façade that seemingly clashed with his position as the 2nd of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. Yet, one might ponder, does the doctor truly concern himself with such matters?
No, not at all. He doesn't have the time to clean everything or keep them in such an organized state. He simply knows everything is in place, and the mess scarcely holds him back (he hires maids once in a while, when the mess gets too much, and in 1 out of 5 maids he hires only makes it out alive).
Yet, what truly imbued this room with a sense of sanctity? For within these walls, he unearthed his genuine solace and tranquility.
In this space, silence reigned supreme. Isolation was his companion, a cherished serenity he embraced. Here, his thoughts danced, inventions took form, and ideas flowed onto paper alongside intricate equations. Occasionally, he'd pass out on his desk and drool all over his papers. This room stood as a shelter inviolable, reserved solely for those few instances of urgency or the presence of a fellow Harbinger.
All other members of the Fatui instinctively bid their time, patiently awaiting his emergence from the sanctum of his office before venturing to approach him. For within its confines, the Doctor was impervious to disruption. No one disturbs the Doctor.
That was before you came along, of course.
The office, ill-suited for a child of your tender years, harbored a minefield of hazards. Within its walls lay various artifacts, concoctions, and intricate machinery, a perilous realm unfit for the innocent curiosity of youth. Regrettably, your presence inadvertently disrupted the serene harmony that had long enveloped this space, unsettling the Doctor who, by nature, dislikes abrupt shifts and deviations from what he was used to.
When you first arrived in his office (he didn't want you inside of it, after all, he wasn't exactly fond of children, but he had no choice) you were immediately injured after stepping onto a shard of glass that Dottore has completely ignored. You tried your very best not to cry for the sake of not irritating Dottore further, but he wasn't very gentle with your wound either.
He took note of keeping his vials away from the edge of his table.
Then a bunch of books topples over you. He puts them into the shelves now, and you helped him organize by using the Dewey Decimal System, to which you had read from a book.
Then, while he was explaining his recent idea (rather enthusiastically) to you, his hand accidentally slammed against his files and flew straight to your face. You also helped him organize his papers.
And then it was cleaning his desk, offering him DIY pencil holders you've made just for him. You've also invented a mug that prevents the liquid inside from spilling (he thinks it was a rather brilliant invention, he no longer has to worry about spilling on his desk).
And then it was putting his rather precarious possessions somewhere else, outside the vicinity of his office and far away from your grasp.
You were very eager to help him in any way possible, and for a child, you quite enjoyed receiving chores. Yet, your contentment was uncomplicated, drawn from the privilege of being granted entry to his treasure trove of knowledge, replete with a limitless collection of books, materials, and tools.
Dottore always thought that you'd be such a nuisance to him once you entered his office and sully the peace he has always known within his office's enclosed haven.
But he didn't expect to welcome your presence at all, on such short notice, too. (Deep inside, he felt a strange warmth in his chest whenever you'd tug on his coat, asking if he needed any assistance with organizing his office. He wonders what it was, though.)
So, here you were, amidst the symphony of pen strokes etching against paper, a solitary melody resonating within the confines of his office.
Contrary to his expectations, the calmness he believed would dissipate upon your arrival had, in fact, been amplified by leaps and bounds. As he observed from the corner of his eye, you reclined on your stomach, legs swinging idly behind you, immersed in a world of creativity. Strewn across the floor, an assortment of crayons bore testament to your artistic endeavors, while he diligently attended to the papers handed by the Fatui.
Then, as if hesitant to break the comfortable silence, you tried to catch his attention with a soft 'psst!', then covered your mouth with your tiny hand to suppress your childish giggles.
The corners of his lips twitch in irritance amusement as he turns his head toward you, his pen on the desk. You broke into a much bigger grin and held your drawing close to your chest, not wanting to expose it just yet. "Hey, Dotdot!" You whispered to him, and he can't help but roll his eyes smile at the nickname you've given him. "Can I show you what I drew?"
Dottore emitted a contemplative hum as if grappling with the decision of whether to engage or remain absorbed in his thoughts. Your evident impatience manifested in a pout, prompting his response. "Well, fine," He yielded, beckoning you forth. You beamed brightly as you swiftly rose to your feet and bounded toward him, your landing generating a muted grunt from him. A steadying hand rested on the desk, enabling him to regain his composure, after which he settled your giggling form comfortably within the space between his legs. "Now then," He put his hands on your shoulder, "What is it you wished to share?"
With another giggle from your ceaseless childish amusement, you gave him the piece of paper. Big, round eyes sparkling against the light of the room looked up at him expectantly. Dottore received the drawing from you, his gaze lingering over its details, drawn into a moment of shared curiosity and wonder.
It was him, and you, holding hands, depicted with earnest effort and the imaginative touch of your youthful artistry. Around you were a bunch of other versions of him, his segments, though you've only drawn five (since they were the only ones who have interacted with you so far). Each had their names labeled beneath them, but Dottore absolutely adores that you've labeled him as 'Dotdot' instead (you've also drawn Pantalone holding your other hand and labeled him as 'Pants', adorned both figures with encircling hearts).
"Truly remarkable artwork," He stated with a smile, his words accompanied by the sound of your jubilant cheers, "This masterpiece deserves a place of honor, a spot where all can admire it. I can already imagine the joy it will bring to the other segments once they lay eyes on it."
"Really!?"
"Of course, I do believe they enjoy your company, little bunny."
As he carefully set the drawing on his table, your inquisitive gaze caught his attention. With a tilt of your head, a gesture he knew all too well, you asked him a question, "Why do you call me that?"
"Hm? Call you what?" Dottore grabbed you gently and settled you onto his desk. Positioned face to face, at eye level, his intent was clear—to engage with you as both an adult and a child, a balance you seemed to relish.
"Bunny! You call me bunny lots,"
"Oh? Do you not like it?"
You vigorously shook your head, "No no, I love it! I get called nicknames, but they're all mean." You furrow your brow as you reminisced, pouting at the awful memories. But then you broke into a big smile again, "But yours is new and cute! So, why do you call me that?"
Dottore's grin widened, revealing his sharp teeth, a sight that enthralled you. Your hands instinctively moved to his cheeks, your eyes filled with wonder, and he welcomed the touch wholeheartedly. "Ahh, ever so curious, aren't you, little bun?" He teased playfully, giving your nose a gentle boop! with his finger, and your giggles were a delightful response. "You see, I call you bunny because you embody its spirit—small, swift, and an endless source of vibrant energy.
You also love to hop onto people a lot."
"I love giving surprise hugs! I'm too small, so a jump, so I can wrap my arms around them a bit higher!" You huffed as he chuckled at your explanation. "What are you, then? What animal?"
"Oh? I've never thought about what kind of animal I'd be... Hmmm..." Dottore mused for a while, his expression thoughtful. Eventually, he arrived at a decision. "A fox, I think. Crafty, shrewd, and sly. A creature that prowls with a purpose and possesses those distinct, sharp teeth." As he said that, he grins once more to show his sharp teeth, then lunges for your finger, mimicking a bite, prompting you to gasp and pull back with a joyful squeal.
"And speaking of bunnies..." His tone took on a mischievous edge, causing your eyes to widen in anticipation. Suddenly, he swooped in, grabbing your legs and lifting you high into the air. "I might just gobble you up!" Dottore's playful pretense of chomping down on you elicited a cascade of laughter from you. You pushed at his head, trying to escape his 'gobbling' jaws, your legs kicking playfully as you enjoyed the moment.
"I don't think you're a fox, Dotdot!" You quipped, retaking your seat on his desk. Playfully swinging your legs, you mused aloud, a soft humming accompanying your contemplation.
Dottore raised an intrigued eyebrow, "Oh? And what am I in the eyes of my little bunny? Perhaps something more fearsome?" He inquired, looming over you in an effort to intimidate you.
Instead, your eyes lit up brightly, and you joyfully clapped your hands together. "Oh, I've got it! A crow!" You exclaimed with a triumphant smile.
A bemused frown replaced his grin as he processed your unexpected response. "...A crow?" He echoed, clearly puzzled by your choice. "Of all animals?"
And you merely smile at him, giggling at his confused reaction, "Mhm! Yeah! A crow that talks on and on and on." Your hands followed your words, almost hitting him in the face, "A crow that is death and prey over rotting corpses, but a crow that saved me! I thought Dotdot was an angel, but angels don't have black feathers, scary smiles, or red eyes."
Your words painted a vivid picture of your perception, a whimsical and deeply personal perspective on his nature. Dottore nods along, intrigued, as you rambled your thoughts to him, not even chastising you for grabbing the beak of his mask and playing with it.
"You're a crow! You're very smart, and clever, and creative! You're scary to other people, but not to me! I love corvids, I used to feed them bits of animal after I dissect them, and they always bring me something shiny. They were my only friends, and now you're my friend too!"
He doesn't understand the gentle warmth that began to unfurl within his chest as he remained attentive to your words. While unfamiliar, this sensation wasn't entirely unwelcome... "I beg to differ, my dear bunny. I am unmistakably a fox,"
"Then you're a crow pretending to be a fox!" You pout, stubbornly crossing your arms. "I think crows are way cooler than foxes. They can fly! Plus, you can't call yourself a fox when you resemble a crow more than a fox!" You pointed out, a triumphant smirk on your lips.
Well, you do have a point. He does wear a beaked mask, coupled with a bird-like shoulder embellishment bedecked in exquisite black feathers.
"Should I then consider donning attire that better befits a fox?"
At the notion, you fixed him with a mock glare, your cheeks puffing out in an adorable display of discontent. "Nooooo! I prefer Mr. Crow!" you protested with a playful whine, punctuating your words by delivering gentle punches to his shoulders with your tiny hands.
He chuckles at your small tantrum, and he swiftly gathers you into his embrace. Your arms naturally encircled his neck as he rose from his seat, carrying you toward the door, your precious drawing clutched in your hands. "Very well, very well, my dear Mr. Crow it shall remain," He conceded with a playful tone, his steps filled with an easy camaraderie.
Victoriously, you shot him a smug grin, to which he rolled his eyes at.
"Do you wanna know something, Mr. Crow?" You mutter in his ear as he walks past one of his segments.
"Hm? What is it?"
You made sure to whisper it very quietly, hoping the other segments won't hear you. "Between you and me, I think that your younger segments are like rats!"
He didn't know what came over him, he released a hearty, resounding laugh, its volume surprising not just you but also the other segments who happened to be present, each momentarily taken aback by their own affairs. Such an outpouring of mirth was rare for him (only when he was inside his dark, cool lab, alone with experiments).
A sense of pride swelled in your chest as you grinned widely, his laughter infectious as you burst into a fit of giggles. It was a scary laugh, maybe it was just naturally like that, but to you, it sounded very happy. "They bit me once! I was just poking their face."
"Perhaps give them a treat before you approach them," He says, calming down as he continues his trek toward your room. "This gesture might just soften their demeanor."
"What, like cheese?"
"Oh, little bun, that'll drive them even more mad once they found out you called them rats."
You share another grin with him, finding a cozy spot to rest your chin upon his shoulder in contentment, "Good! I think they're funny when their faces turn red."
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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I’ll appreciate it very very much! Don’t repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌
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chleb-uwu · 7 months
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Resistance hero and his trophy immortal husband,
but I just call this AU 'Ouch, The Immortality Problem'
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stealingyourbones · 1 month
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Honestly kinda of the belief that the more you know about the source material, the more fun it is to treat it like a piñata at a frat party.
Absolutely man! The best way to deconstruct and mess with something is first knowing the base of what you’re messing with!
Its how I believe all fandoms should be explored by. comics in particular have SO many different versions and iterations of that character that you have to wait and pause at the store to choose one of the 18 differently colored but otherwise identical piñatas. You then can take your bat and swing at that version of the character. Pick and choose your piñata and you’ll have a grande ol time
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