#and bought you the food you like

[nururu]

he's so valid

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Everything I know about Flash and the FlashFam (& Flash enemies) comes from fandom and theflashmuseum on tiktok so fair warning on that lol

Sorry if Barry is out of character or things don't line up with canon. Canon is a stranger I think I passed in a crowded room once, I did not ask for its number lol

Anyway, time to touch a bit more on that whole Ancient of the Speedforce Elle thing yeah? Here be a sprinkle more of that and I promise there's more to come haha

Gonna start posting this on Ao3 soon, probably Monday or Tuesday, so heads up I may stop adding these parts here on tumblr once I do

---

It lived beneath his skin.

For a long time Barry had never believed in magic. His world was grounded, scientific, made of predictable rules and laws. Tools that could be used to explain everything strange or supernatural away as just another odd twist of the massive universe they all belonged to.

It took perhaps a little longer than it should have to admit that magic was as real as thermodynamics and gravity and atoms. That the world was a great deal stranger than even science - for all its own wildness at times - could account for. There were things that went bump in the night. Hells below and heavens above and things that crawled and clawed their way out from the places in between.

It was almost a little embarrassing how long it had taken him to admit to such things, when considering his relationship with the Speedforce.

A force of the universe. Like gravity or time, pushing and pulling everything along. Something that could be explained with all the familiar scientific concepts that had buoyed him along in life for so long.

Except.

Except.

Buzzing, burning, blistering. Not painful but felt. Making his hair stand on end, his fingers tingle and numb. Sliding against his veins, bouncing between scar tissue and freckles. Pressing out from the confines of his sternum, rattling against his rib cage as it shifted and moved. Twining around each and every vertebrae. Coiling over and under itself within his skull, darting along the paths of his neurons and nerves. It hummed in every cell in his body. Darted and danced in the space between the atoms that made up his very existence.

The Speedforce lived beneath his skin.

Lived.

Not existed. Not contained. Lived.

He couched it in terms of science, but science - despite his long time refusal to acknowledge it - wasn’t really able to explain the full scope of what he could feel. Not just the power of the Speedforce, but the…the identity of it. The living part that made it’s home in his body, existing in a way that was separate from him. Distant and indistinct most of the time, but…sentient.

He could feel it. Warm and excitable, delighting every time he tapped into it. Pushing him from behind urging him on and on, tugging him forward from ahead beckoning to go, faster, faster. Joyful in his victories, despairing in his loses.

It lived beneath his skin.

Until it didn’t.

He followed its joyful calls, pushed beyond what he should, what he knew was safe. Chasing that welcoming chant of faster, faster until he was there. In the Speedforce. More even, was the Speedforce.

He was everywhere. Beyond everywhere. In every possible everywhere it was possible to be. Every world, every universe, every multiverse.

To enter the Speedforce, to merge with it, was to become part of existence itself.

He couldn’t remember everything about it once he came back. He got flashes, sometimes, quick moments in dreams of places, of moments. What stuck with him most had been the feeling of it all. That had been the hardest part of returning. The sense of terrible loss, of having been surrounded by such a giddy, delighted, devoted love only to be pulled back from the heart of it. Returned to how he had been before, drifting at the edge of it all, it had been painful, agonizing even.

He…adapted, eventually. The sense of it all was still there, just distant. Something he’d come to feel he’d see again, someday.

It had been different, recently.

His powers were the same, he just as fast as ever, but…there was something…off. Changed. A sense that while his speed remained, the Speedforce had become, for lack of a better word, quiet. Distant.

He’d been having dreams, since it started. Not the quick glimpses of his time where he’d merged with the Speedforce. No, instead they were more nightmarish. Not nightmares exactly, though he felt like they should be with what they contained, but something else. Something that felt unnervingly real, left him confused and reeling when he woke with the certainty that when he opened his eyes he’d see the same as what his dreams held.

In the dream, he was in a room.

Cement and metal, hostile and brutalistic in design. He was bound in place, standing upright with feet and hands spread wide and locked in place within strange devices. Gleaming chrome and brilliant green, a painful thrum of energy surging through his body - not the Speedforce, something else, deeply unpleasant pulsing through every cell of his being and freezing him in place more firmly then the restraints did. Projectors hung from the ceiling, displaying images of landscapes, changing every ten second or so.

The sight of them made him nauseous, body shivering and spasming with the burning, agonizing need to go, but at the same time there was something distantly soothed by them too. Like a gnawing hunger abated with water and crumbs. The need for food not gone but the pangs diminished by the false feeling of being full.

In the dream he felt like he was dying.

In the dream he was afraid that maybe he couldn’t.

That he’d be trapped alive in that state forever, watching places he’d never see in person again as he was trapped in one place. His mind spiraling his Core splintering under the weight of it all, scared so scared. He wanted his brother, wanted to see the cement walls explode into dust and debris and see him there, ready to save the day like he had so many times before.

He just had to wait. His brother was looking for him, would have everyone in the Realms looking for him. He just had to hold on.

Barry didn’t have a brother. He only remembered when he woke, heart hammering in his chest fast even by his own standards, mouth tasting of bile and body aching with the need to go.

He hadn’t been sleeping much these days, even before the King of the Dead declared war.

It was having its effects, as sleep deprivation always did. His mind drifting, catching again and again on the dream, attention far away from the world around him. How many times had he been startled by someone calling his name, touching his arm? How many times had they given him a pinched, worried look that told him they’d been trying to reach him for longer than they should have before he noticed.

He was aware, distantly, of the glowering, stern faces around him. The flinty looks of his friends’ and partners’ eyes as they stared at the image of Waller’s scowling mug.

She’d declined an in-person meeting, hunkering down in some bunker somewhere trying to avoid the consequences of her latest atrocities. Or maybe just trying to avoid the very real possibility that one of the members of JL Dark might try to kill her for what she’s caused.

Or JL light, for that matter.

Bruce and Clark had their rules that they lived by, but Diana certainly wouldn’t hesitate to splatter Waller’s brains across the nearest available wall. In reviewing footage of one of the last battles - she’d been at the other one at the time, trying to contend with a ghost in the shape of an ethereal dragon - she’d recognized the spectral figures of Amazons long dead, fierce even in death as they fought with a warrior’s pride along side the rest of Phantom’s armies. They followed a figure that towered even above the Amazons, four arms and gleaming armor and a name that Barry associated with ruin and forgotten hope but who was so much more to Diana. Heroes long departed to the fields of Elysium, stepping out of their well earned rest to fight once more.

A few hadn’t survived the weapons the GIW shot them with. Barry didn’t know what that meant, for a ghost to die. If they simply returned to their afterlife or -

He tried not to think about the or.

They’d been going back and forth for awhile now. Voices faraway, muffled. The world felt as if it was underwater, blurred and cold. Clark had gotten to his feet at some point, Waller’s grip on a pen so tight on the screen he expected to see if burst at any moment. It was an important meeting, an important discussion. One he needed to be apart of, aware of, but it all escaped him. Sand held too tightly, slipping through his fingers. On the screen, Waller hit a button on the computer beside her and the image changed.

The world burned back to life in sharp relief.

The dream.

The room.

Cold cement. Projections of unreachable places on the walls. Chrome and green machinery in a configuration meant to contain.

It looked larger on the screen.

Maybe it was how small the figure held prisoner inside it was.

She was young. A child, no older than Superboy Jr. or Robin. She looked like Phantom - her father - but there were differences. Her hair was white, but it didn’t look like the spun starlight of her father’s. Instead it burned, the bright hot crackling of the plasma of a lighting bolt striking. Skin the blur of shapes caught just at the corner of the eye as you ran past, Eyes -

Looking at him.

The image had come up, a live feed - he knew it was live, knew he was looking at her where she was at that exact moment - and she’d been as he was every time he tried to sleep. Trembling and shuttering, eyes squinting against the pain, trying to stay open so as not to miss a single moment of the flat images imposed on blank cement walls. Desperate to fill the fathomless hunger burning deep down in the Core of her.

But then a shuttering breath and her eyes - the burning green of an afterimage - snapped up to the camera. Snapped up to look at him, recognition in her young face. And despite never having seen this girl before, he recognized her too.

The Speedforce lived beneath his skin.

She lived beneath his skin.

He could feel her there. Buzzing, burning, blistering. Not painful, but felt.

Not as felt as she used to be.

The image snapped back to Waller’s face, smug and self-satisfied. Talking - lying - about the how the girl was there, what the GIW’s intentions for her were. Barry was on his feet, but so was everyone else. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, could only hear static, the rush of wind, the crack of the lightning bolt. A call for help.

It was then that the alarms began to blare. On the screen someone rushed in to whisper into Waller’s ear. Bruce was running out of the room towards the Zeta tubes and Barry was right there with him and there was so much chaos around them, men in white and Gothamites and Ghosts banding together to rain terror down upon them and something massive and horrible and living towering above it all and Barry let go of that last bits of logic and thought.

Instinct, older than he was. The echo of a voice that had called him for years now, carrying him along, biding him forward:

Run.

Someone might have shouted after him as he left Gotham behind. He didn’t know.

All he knew was the pounding of his feet upon the ground, the wind in his face, the Speedforce lashing and frantic and hopeful burning and sizzling beneath his skin. Calling him further and further away until he stood in a vast, empty field staring at a single, rusted shack near ready to collapse before him.

He wasn’t alone.

Wally. Bart. Max. More still. Not just his family and friends. Eobard. Hunter. Thaddeus. Everyone touched by the Speedforce.

They didn’t speak. Bodies humming and thrumming, crackling with energy and intent.

Minds as one, they focused on the shed, the hidden hatch inside, the base hidden deep below.

The Speedforce lived beneath their skin, and no one was going to steal it away from them.

[anyroads]

British people: these avocados must go they're past their prime please won't someone eat them

The avocados:

[mpregcatboyshin]

guys do you think that while miri is with her mom she'll start asking for "papa kazuki's french toast" and "papa rei's rice balls" like how she asked for "mama's hamburg steak" when she first started staying with kazuki and rei.

only for misaki to try and make those things for her and miri saying its not the same, because kazuki's tastes better, and rei's is filled with her favorite things.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

(vol8 vs vol18)

did he buy a fucking cellphone when he got more friends ???? ☠️☠️☠️

[asexualbookbird]

yall. i keep coming across this thing on instagram, people making "edible cookie dough" out of yogurt and protein powder. well.

i tried it. and im MAD about it. WHY IS IT ACTUALLY TASTY!!!!! HOW DOES IT ACTUALLY TASTE LIKE MY FAVORITE COOKIE RECIPE!!!!!!!!!! UNCALLED FOR!!!!!!!

i didnt measure anything but i used fage greek yogurt (ive seen people use cottage cheese as well but uh. no thanks <3), vanilla protein powder (others also use peanut butter protein power and add a scoop of pb), oat flour, brown sugar, and mini chocolate chips.

it tastes like my moms oatmeal chocolate chip cookies to the point where my mom said "wheres the coconut?" because her recipe adds shredded coconut

yeah the yogurt adds a Tang to it, but the oat flour does SUCH a good job i dont care. what the fuck. i hate this. fitfluencers you win this round.

[nostalgicfun]

Wilton Yearbook | 1998

[inamagicalhallucination]

did i already share it? well ill share it again ig

dazai after oda's death wandering around yokohama, a mess becuz someone so precious to him died, unable to understand the very human feelings he's feeling, perhaps feeling something so strongly for someone for the first time (at least whilst being aware that he is)

its night time now and he's crumpled up in some alley way not knowing what to do or how to process anything when someone calls out to him

he ignores it

they come near him

he reaches for his gun, angry at being approached by who ever the fuck-

"are you okay?" the voice asks, and dazai's so caught off guard even tho he shouldnt be - there r only two ppl after all - ppl who dont care and ppl who ask if ur okay to pretend that they do

oda was always an exception

he thinks he says fine and that should be the end of it and it is becuz the voice leaves and dazai tries to go back to breathing

except it comes back a while later with the familiar rustle of plastic bags and suddenly someone's in front of him, not touching, but close enough dazai cant ignore him, his hand tightens on his gun

"you look like you havent eaten" and in front of him, in a plastic bag, riceballs, water, and napkins

he stares

"you're well dressed" the voice says "so you probably have somewhere to go to" he doesnt "but you look hurt, covered in blood. if it was one of my students i would want someone to help them"

when dazai looks up the person in front of him doesn't look older than him

he's got long blond hair tied up, glasses, dressed in a black button up, a tan coat, and a stern look on his face

"i dont" dazai says even though he doesnt know why he's telling this strange man anything - but its true he has no where to go (chuuya's? but something stopped him before he could; ango's? that... if ango had been here... maybe oda wouldn't have-)

"dont what" dazai doesn't reply but the man seems to understand - his face falters for a second

"youngins these days, they never plan out anything. why would you spend money on expensive looking clothes and not rent out a place? my first priority was an apartment! i bought non necessary clothes after" the man scolds gesturing to his coat, dazai wants to reach for his gun again "whatever, you can stay with me for the night - i have a spare couch! this is a one time thing though! you better rent out a hotel room tomorrow!"

dazai stares at him in surprise, at his offer, his contradictory tone, voice, and words or simply the fact that someone can show such... kindness - dazai isnt sure

he doesn't remember agreeing - but he must have

must have agreed and followed the man back to his apartment, must have cleaned up the blood (odaodaoda) in his bathroom, must have eaten his food, drank his water and fallen asleep on his couch because thats where he is in the morning

its still dark out when dazai wakes up in an unfamiliar place and remembers the man

he has a feeling that the man will scold him for not immediately finding a place but let him stay for longer, but he cant stand to be here any longer

he needs to leave

go far far away from oda, the mafia, this man who showed him kindness for no reason as if oda was still here watching, making sure - he needs to go

there's only a brief hesitation when he sees the man's coat, so familiar to the one oda wears, hanging by the door, easy to grab and leave

he doesn't feel guilt when he takes it with him

he thinks of the man a few times here and there in the two years he spends wandering, waiting

he meets him again eventually, walking into the ada office with a fake backstory - he's there with the person he was told was the boss

when he looks over his eyes linger on the coat, a touch of something but not recognition

this is fine with dazai who puts on his best happy mask

"hey there! i'm here for a job interview! my name's dazai"

"Ah yes. My name is Fukuzawa, I am the president of the Agency. This is one of my employees, your future coworker if it all works out, Kunikida"

[joelletwo]

now this is gonna sound really stupid and i need no one to call me stupid about it -> it turns out when u make food that is more than the bare minimum to be edible. ie make it a lil fancy w a lot of flavors and textures going on (scary to me <- autist). u want to eat it more. and even tho its more work. sometimes the prospect of eating something that actually tastes great is motivating enough to get u thru the work. and so conversely it is easier to keep up a consistent eating routine. bc ur not also constantly bailing on planned mediocre dinners to eat all ur backup stock of emergency instant meals.

[alsojnpie]

dishes are forever

[chamerionwrites]

People can unquestionably be deeply weird about food (see: recipe bloggers who are more about conspicuous consumption than actually good recipes; people who leave comments on recipe blogs about how fruit or god forbid carrots are unhealthy because - checks notes - they contain too much sugar; tr*dwives trying to politicize photos of bread; Silicon Valley guys selling fad diets). I find this as annoying as anyone (v possibly I find it more annoying, as a person who likes to cook!). However I also find it annoying when people act as if the act of cooking elaborate (or even not-so-elaborate) meals is in and of itself something weird and snobbish. Cooking is like the single most accessible hobby bro. The end product is food and you kinda need that to live, and also it’s often cheaper to make things yourself assuming you can afford the time cost. “God save us from people who make pasta sauce from scratch, why would anyone do this” well you see, sometimes people have hobbies. Sometimes people enjoy the process of creation as much as the thing itself, even. Sue me for finding joy in the stuff I’m compelled to put in my face to stay alive I guess

[ihamtmus]

.

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

As much as i think toshiros complicity is based in his cowardice I do kinda get why he didnt talk to tade about what he thought abt how she views her retainership. Like even if he had that conversation like what could she do other than nod and smile—the power differential between them is huge. I feel something that plays into his conflict aversion is that if he did get upset or hit someone its not like they could hit back without serious consequences. But also he’s been raised in an environment where his comfort has always been prioritized above other ppls wellbeing and he def chooses the easier route A Lot. Like the fact that instead of genuinely engaging w whats going on w izutsumi and tade he ignored all his retainers, let maizuru handle it, and went on some two year spring break dungeon crawling whatever like words cannot describe what an abdication of responsibility this was. That instead of working w his party he went off on his own w his retainers bc he just didnt want them to know he was a noble that much (granted he also didnt think laios was cut out to lead which tough but fair) like cmon man…. But i do think his fight w laios was good for him even tho it was a shitty bitch fight when they rlly shouldve been helping their party revive ppl bc he could have a conflict on equal footing w someone. His whole life hes viewed himself as someone w no power (and the ways this is false esp on the island) but i think in the dungeon he realized he genuinely has a responsibility to his retainers n his actions led to them following him into something really dangerous when they had no dog in this. But also it seems as an attempt to reciprocate, he does seem to have become very observant of other people beyond what is normal bc he doesnt speak much. Culture plays into his clash w laios but i think the fact he’s grown up being so closely observed and in turn closely observes others plays into it too. But its fun how hes always toeing the line between being a spoiled brat, being too passive bc of his own lack of agency, n also that hes genuinely intelligent and has thought a really long time about power.

I think it also gets at why marcilles plan to equalize the races by making their lifespans the same was doomed to fail and also highlights how she can only view other ppls oppression thru her own suffering—that theres always going to be differentials in power that are difficult, but you have to interact meaningfully w them rather than running from them. A simple world w easy solutions like that would be bloodless and false, no?

[ikishima]

My #1 advice for people moving out is to NOT buy nonstick cookware... not only is the lifespan of nonstick a MAXIMUM of 7 years (usually more like 2-5 years) but teflon, aka Polytetrafluoroethylene-- the plastic coating that makes the cookware nonstick, infuses microplastics into your food.

New cookware sets can cost hundreds of dollars so my advice is to look for 100% stainless steel cookware in thrift stores. Safer, cheaper, & instead of needing to replace every 2-7 years they can potentially last you the entire rest of your life AND they won't start shedding plastic into your food

[miodiodavinci]

head in hands like "maybe i should have realized this about myself sooner" as i am surrounded by neon flashing signs that Very Clearly Indicate the thing i should have realized about myself sooner

[bb-bambam]

good morning to jaemin refusing to eat with mark during a live because he promised jeno he would eat with him only for jeno to show up with food that jaemin specifically only eats so that they could eat together sooner and jaemin wouldn't go hungry 🥹