#and fun to write too

[beyourghost]

and obviously you find yourself thinking oh i do wish i could get severed to do this one thing. would you actually maybe not. but you do wish you didn't have to undergo medical procedures you do wish you didn't have to do the things that give you anxiety you do wish you didn't have to do tedious tasks that barely even require you to be present for them. it's tempting. that's why the premise works. but the premise is also that somebody has to do it. somebody has to go to the dentist and somebody has to get on that plane and somebody has to write those thank you notes. just like somebody has to clean the house and somebody has to harvest the food you eat and somebody has to make the clothes you wear. you can't eliminate inconvenience you can only delegate it. you can't eliminate suffering you can only delegate it. and always the easiest way to live with this is to see that somebody as less than. less than you less than people. and if that somebody has to wear your body to do it well maybe it's not all that different. they're not a person. you are. it's capitalism all the way down baby

[simonbrain]

it doesn't matter how quietly you attempt to get off at night; your lieutenant is always listening, always grumpy about the pretty sounds disturbing his slumber.

you were embarrassed when he brought it up to you (keep it down, can't fuckin' sleep with oll tha' racket), so you opted to not use your vibrator the next night, instead using your fingers like some lady from the 1800's. it wasn't as efficient, but it did the job, and you were knocked out after a few orgasms.

you think you're doing good, as he doesn't confront you about your nightly activities for a few days after that. not until one morning when he pulls you over to an obscured area outside, not paying any mind to your stumbling and hissing.

even with the mask on, you can tell he's scowling. "how many times do i 'ave to tell you to keep it down?" he grumbles, peering down at you through golden eyelashes. his head tilts as he speaks, and you have to force yourself to not squeeze your thighs together in front of your superior officer. "i can hear tha' wet cunt through the walls every night—are you tha' thirsty for it, pet?" a finger clips onto your belt loop, and you're being tugged closer, a chuckle rumbling from him when he takes notice of how flustered you're getting.

you've never wanted to explode into tiny pieces more in your life than this moment. your cheeks feel hot, and you can only stare up at him and watch as his gaze roams down your body. heated. predatory.

"i— i don't want—" you try to deny what you know is inevitable because ghost always gets his way, but it's thrilling to watch how he pushes his body against yours, the smell of him overpowering your rational thoughts. he only peels the mask high enough to free his mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat, a gloved hand finding its way to the front of your pants.

that night, when you crawl into bed with a fully charged vibrator, warmth already swirling in your belly, you think about how ghost's hands felt on your body. how he so meanly nudged the fat head of his cock in until he was fully sheathed, stretching you so thin you swear he was going to split you apart.

("there we go," he coos—or rather snarls at you, thick fingers filling up your mouth because you were whining too loud for his liking. "knew you wanted this fuckin' cunt stuffed full o'me," he groans while pawing at your chest, harsh pants hitting your ear. "tha's why you're so loud, innit? nasty fuckin' thing.")

how he kissed you like he was trying to consume you, licking into your mouth with such fervour, you were surprised he hadn't already burst into flames. he resembles a brick more than an actual human sometimes, but patience has always been his strongest quality.

you really shouldn't be surprised when ghost pours into your room while you're making yourself dizzy with thoughts of him, your brain liquifying on the pillow from the constant delicious vibrations against your throbbing clit. the sound of the door being kicked shut behind him startles you as he stalks over to your bed.

"i'm starting to think you like pissing me off." he growls softly, the bed squeaking underneath his weight. the vibrator is still buzzing against you, and you swallow when his eyes drop down to the soft, wet mess between your legs. "get on your fuckin' knees, girl."

[black-quadrant]

sometimes all you need is one passionate person who goes berserk for your work to keep you creating

[obsesssedblerd]

Smau: "I want you back." ☹️❤️‍🩹

The guys getting you back after a breakup. ♥️

(nanami, geto, choso, toji, sukuna, and gojo)

contains: angst w/ happy ending, fluff, a bit of crack

a/n: thank you all so much for 100 followers! here's a little treat. 🥰

[myespresso]

attractive things they do while you're dating

pairing: batboys (plus clark lol) & reader ❀ׄ ꥈ

𓍢ִ໋☕ cassidy's note: for funsies. not edited. i love reading variations of these. i haven't written since 2020. if you can like this, reblog too.

bruce 🦇ᡣ𐭩˚.

navigating paparazzi: the careful way he guides you to block the flaring flashes from cameras with his broad shoulders.

bruce wraps his fingers to pull on your waist, tugging you further behind him, ensuring no shots of you are taken on what was meant to be a private night out.

despite the urgency of the situation--his face still stays controlled and imperturbable, but his grip is firm to reassure you, as he leans down and mumbles in your ear, "just a bit farther, the car's close," before his voice cuts through the cries and shutters lowly: "we're done here."

listens intently, and remembers every single detail about you, despite whether you think it's significant or not for him to know.

bruce stores your favorite shampoo and conditioner in his bathroom when you stay the night over.

and when you're sitting on the edge of his sink, removing his makeup from under his eyes, you notice it sitting amongst his own body-wash and pine scented soap.

but when you ask him about it, he simply shrugs and waves it off.

dick 🏙ɞ♥️*

teaches you self defense: his hands gently curl over yours to demonstrate how they should look before you throw a punch.

his touch is light, "keep your thumb on the outside", dick's finger taps the inside of your palm, "if you keep it inside, you'll break it--not fun."

he whistles when you hit him solidly in the side with a wide grin, despite the force of your blow, "better."

insists on helping you put on all your jewellery and shoes.

he turns you around, and pulls your hair to one side of your neck, before fiddling with the clasp. he's clumsy at first, but eventually gets the hang of it the more he does it. his hands linger on the slope of your neck for a moment longer than necessary.

later, as you reach for your shoes, he beats you to it, kneeling in front of you. dick's motions are all exaggerated as he does it.

your hand cards through his hair when he's looking up through his lashes after he's fastened the straps, and kissing the inside of your calf slowly.

jason ❤️‍🩹⋆｡

reads on public transportation: jason pulls out a beat up paperback he picked up from a secondhand bookstore from his back pocket. it has dog eared pages and a weathered spine.

there's a baby crying on the train, but he doesn't seem to notice as he flicks a ringed finger to the page he last read.

he pulls a pencil from his jacket pocket, and traces a line in a passage--a part he thinks you'd like. when he leans forward, his shirt rides up a bit so a strip of his skin is visible to you.

doesn't wipe your lipgloss from his cheek.

the shimmer from it stains his cheek after you pressed a kiss to it. you go to wipe it with a laugh, reaching with your thumb, and jason catches it mid-air. "you've got glitter on your face jay, people are gonna-"

"next time, wear red."

tim 🪽❥˚

gnaws at his lip as he concentrates.

the hum of the keys click in the batcave and papers rustle. tim's focus is sharp as he attempts piecing together his newest case, and his teeth catch in his bottom lip. an unconscious habit.

you can't help but tease him about it, "that's a terrible habit to have, you know that?" you lean against his desk."it helps me think."

sure enough, he does it again. "you're gonna chew your lip off your face one day." his lips curve upwards at your observation, but your gaze was now intense as you observed his lip in his teeth, and before you can state another snarky remark, he shoots you a knowing look before pulling your belt loops, and kissing you.

wears your hair tie on his wrist. it was never really ever a big deal. one day you handed it to him while getting ready for bed one night as you pulled out your ponytail and he snapped it onto his wrist without much thought. now, it's routine. it doesn't matter where he is exactly, if tim's at a gala or in a meeting or out in gotham on patrol, the hair tie is around his wrist.

you heard him cursing from the other room when he misplaced it once.

clark 🌟.*☆

saves you a seat, always: whether it's evenings in or out, clark always makes you feel like you're the most important person there.

it's not something that's said but understood, as he pulls the chair next to him, letting it be out long enough for you to get comfortable, before gently scooting it inwards.

when you eat, and when he thinks you're not looking--clark will adjust your plate, and glace over at your water glass to make sure it is filled. and if you want extra bread, don't even worry because he kept an extra piece on his plate for you.

pushing his glasses up. there's something kinda charming about the way he does it that you wish you could explain it better. it's absentminded, he does it a lot!

when he's looking over articles or reading or just talking to you. in the elevator, he'll lean forward to look over the numbered floors, and they won't stay in place, sliding down the bridge of his nose. you don't say anything, but smile slightly, and he'll return it goofily and with more teeth, before he asks, "what?"

tags: @retvenkos

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[tsunodaradio]

an act of pure defiance ⛐ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

“you know, moles are where your soulmate kissed you the most in your past life.” 

ꔮ starring: oscar piastri x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 1.3k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff fluff fluff. mention of alcohol; profanity. established relationship, pinch of manhandling, title from the script’s science & faith. ꔮ commentary box: kae stop writing about oscar piastri challenge: failed 🤷 miami race winner, baby! 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You hadn’t even been dating yet when the ‘fact’ first came up in conversation. 

You were virtual strangers at one of Lando’s infamous house parties. Oscar had only met you a couple of hours prior, and it was the point of the night where everybody was sufficiently sloshed. Not in a destructive way, but enough to kind of lose grasp on reality. 

Oscar had been bleary-eyed and regretting his third shot of tequila when you loudly announced, to no one in particular, “You know, moles are where your soulmate kissed you the most in your past life.” 

It had been so absurd, so out of the blue, that Oscar couldn’t help it. He let out a snort of laughter that even the thumping music couldn’t hide, and you’d glared at him with the fury of a drunken woman scorned. 

“What?” you had demanded, and Oscar remembers finding you pretty in the moment. The flush in your cheeks—from the alcohol and indignance—and the fire in your eyes, not at all dulled by the Jägermeister you had chugged before graciously inviting yourself to the loose circle Oscar was hiding in. 

“It’s bullshit,” he had responded easily. 

“What’s bullshit?” 

He glared at you like he didn’t quite understand why he had to explain. “Soulmates,” he said exasperatedly. “Past lives.” 

“Well,” you had shot back, voice pitching higher, “you can go take your orange rocket ship and shove it up your—”

Somebody slapped a hand over your mouth. And Oscar had smiled, the barely-there grin hidden behind his red solo cup, without thinking for a moment that he was going to go down the deep end in record time. 

Falling in love with you hadn’t taken time; convincing you to date him was a completely different story. You still sometimes bitched about his anti-soulmate mentality, and Oscar had resolved to rubbing the migraine out of his temples if it meant agreement would keep you happy. 

It was just—so insane. Karmic justice and reincarnation made no sense to Oscar the same way telemetry might baffle an average person. He was not a man of faith. He liked to think everything could be broken down. 

The precision needed to make an impossible turn. The aerodynamics of his car that could make or break his race. 

The parts of his brain that lit up whenever you’re around. 

The serotonin he felt when you agreed to a date. 

Oscar believes in science. It’s tried, and tested, and true. 

His marks were products of melanocytes. He knows, because he drunkenly Googled it on the way home from Lando’s party. That night you met, he searched up a typo-laden why do people have moles, took a screenshot of the Mayo Clinic page that came up, and kept it in his gallery for three whole weeks. 

He had thought of you for three whole weeks. 

Now, Oscar gets tagged in memes about being an Aries. He finds himself taking ‘personality’ quizzes he swears have no purpose, but he’ll indulge you with his damn MBTI if it keeps you from pouting. He doesn’t understand the tarot cards you pull or why you have notifications on for an app called Co–Star.

He learns to live with it, chalks it up to being so horribly down bad that he’ll give you the benefit of doubt for nearly everything. 

Nearly everything. 

It’s another hotel room, another race weekend. The two of you are sprawled out on the bed, doing your own things, when Oscar feels your fingers absentmindedly tracing the back of his neck. It’s a touch light enough that it doesn’t tickle, doesn’t distract. There’s nothing provocative about it either, so Oscar keeps his gaze firm on the cricket match he’s rewatching. 

After a couple moments, you let out a huff. “Pay attention to me,” you grumble, and Oscar rolls his eyes—feeling so unbearably fond of you, he thinks he could die from it. 

(An exaggeration of epic proportions, of course. Oscar knows there’s no recorded deaths due to ‘fondness’, but he allows himself a hyperbole every now and then. A little treat.)

He shifts in the bed until you can lean on him more comfortably. “You could have just led with that,” he points out, even though he’s never truly minded your whining. 

You don’t answer, instead opting to burrow yourself into his side. He tries and fails to keep himself from smiling.

When your face tilts upward, lips brushing against his throat, Oscar’s eyes flutter shut. He’d never admit it out loud, but this was one of his favorite things about you. How tactile you could be. How generous you were with your affection. How—

Huh. 

This isn’t new. You’ve always been the type to shower Oscar with kisses, whether it was a prelude to something more or a show of affection on its own. For the first time ever, though, Oscar notices something. 

Two kisses near his Adam’s apple. One to the side of his neck, below his ear. A couple across his jaw—seemingly random, except they’ve always been in the same place, and now Oscar is laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” you murmur accusingly, your lips brushing over the constellation on his cheek. 

“You are,” he answers, arms looping around your waist. 

In one deft movement, Oscar pulls you on to his lap. You go without resistance, taking the change in position as an opportunity to lave his face with more chaste kisses. 

“Trying to one-up my soulmate?” he teases. 

You pause, realizing you’ve been caught. Instead of backing down, though, you only move to press your lips to his. Oscar can feel you smiling, and it makes the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. 

“I’m your soulmate,” you murmur without breaking the kiss, and he hums a vague ‘mhm’ in response. When you have him like this, he’ll agree to anything. 

You keep up with your trail of kisses, and the sudden rationale behind it all makes something treacherous thump, thump, thump in Oscar’s chest.

That very thing aches when you mumble, all trademark petulance, “You didn’t love me enough in our past life.” 

Early into your relationship, you had pointed it out. How Oscar had a lot more visible marks than you. You’d mapped them all over his body until he felt like there wasn’t a part of him he could hide from you, and he’d mentally compared it to the glaring lack on your own skin.

He’d thought you liked it, that you didn’t have as much blemishes or moles. But now, you’re burying your face into the crook of his neck and kissing up his throat, complaining like he had a hand in it at all. 

He uses the grip he has around your waist to flip you over. Your back to the mattress, your head cushioned by his hand. 

“What the hell!” you squeak, indignant, but Oscar’s already moving. 

Bracing himself on top of you, he kisses along the line of your jaw. Over your collarbone. Down the column of your throat. It’s methodical, still, even here. Brushes of his lips, each one pressed with intent.

Despite your earlier protest, your fingers find purchase at the short hair at Oscar’s nape. “What’s this all about?” you breathe.

Oscar peeks up at you through his bangs, noticing the way your eyes have fluttered close in contentment. 

He’ll take that. He’ll have that over you claiming he didn’t ‘love you enough’ in whatever past version of you might have existed. It’s so out of character for him, but something inside him had flicked like a light switch at your taunt. 

“I’m making it up to you,” he answers, voice hoarse, as he goes back to trailing kisses over each part of you that he can reach.

Jaw, collarbone, throat. The slope of your shoulder. The inside of your wrist. Places where, if you’re right, you’ll find moles in your next life. 

Oscar still doesn’t believe in a lot of things. But you’re laughing affectionately underneath him, pulling him closer, taking what he has to give, and Oscar—

Well, Oscar believes in you. ⛐

[egophiliac]

I loved your drawing(and I love your style in general) with Leia in your recent post! If/when you have time can we see more of her in your style? I get so happy whenever I actually see people mention/talk about her and she’s not just forgotten because we didn’t get to see much of her. 😭

thank you! 💙💙💙 Leia/Leah/Lea/whatever is fascinating to me. she is the ultimate unknown. what was she like? how involved (or even aware of any details of the invasion) was she? Silver's basically a physical carbon copy of his biodad, so what did he get from her? like, I understand why the two of them kind of have to stay as these super vague and mysterious figures -- the whole point of them is that their story ended 400+ years ago and they're not really relevant anymore (and. well. the more that gets explained about them, the less that can just kinda be handwaved as "oh the politics were Very Messy") (we can sit here and theorize all day but let us acknowledge that, ultimately, canon gave us almost nothing about them post-Meleanor and we'd just be making things up). I do still wonder about her though! RIP Lea, we never knew you and we probably never will.

actually you know what, as long as we're here, I think I WILL go ahead and just make some stuff up about what Silver might've inherited from her instead.

[huntingrays]

pjo prompt: percy and jason have to go on a quest together, so they both decide to bring their respective partners (annabeth and leo). during the quest, they get kidnapped by monsters and percy and jason wake up in an arena. the monsters explain that they have their partners and in order to save them, they have to fight to the death, with the winner getting to leave alive with their partner, while the other is killed. however, the monsters are very shocked when percy and jason sit down and start calmly playing cards with each other. they’re not worried about their partners. instead, they’re worried for the monsters. they trapped annabeth and leo together, two of the smartest demigods. the girl who redesigned olympus and the boy who built a warship in six months. they were toast.

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[choccy-milky]

from my new oneshot, 'the vexing village of vellmore' ✨ ao3 / wattpad ((it's about seb & clora visiting a cursed village and trying to figure out how to break the curse, and since it ended up being 50k words i decided to split it into 2 chapters and the next part will be out soon!🙏 also, while it does have spoilers for the raven and the snake, it's a standalone story and can be read blind💖))

[wasabi-gumdrop]

neon glory squad 💖

[stealingyourbones]

Werewolf AU where Jason runs into the woods behold Gotham Manor, feral and not truly himself, he stalks a the sent of a pack of white tailed deer until a glowing green light tears open the fabric of reality and out jumps a furry being similar to him that Jason’s hindbrain can only think of as a threat that needs to be eliminated.

—

Wulf doesn’t know what’s going on with this wereghostling but he’s determined to help this boy. Something in his core has made him lose his sense of self, something unknown and complicated to Wulf.

Dodging a lunge by the wereghostling filled with gnashing teeth and claws, Wulf tears open another portal that leads to the Far Frozen. Wulf will help this Werecub and train him, its been so long since Wulf had brought a ghostling under his wing, a new mentee might do him some good.

[sunny-knight]

THIS IS HOME

@forgettable-au Fan-Animatic ⭐️

The stars welcome him with open arms…

Work and Progress + Analysis below!

You can find the work in progress things here! because I wanna show the sketch animatic and you can only upload one video…

The entire idea was inspired off of THIS lovely little qna written a bit ago! havnt forgotten about it since! Despite what the AU might have you believe And recently I decided I could just draw out the fun part instead of go through the pain of storyboarding and cleaning up a nearly 4 minute long song 👍👍👍

Thats the idea though, theres no real plot, so no real context I can give other than the things the comic itself already provides. “This Is Home” just works incredibly well for this poor childs trauma, and it was a great opportunity to practice my composition and storytelling!!

Onto the deep analysis of every frame individually!!! (this is normal. this happens every time.)

The idea that Wingdings just eventually- gave up. Trying to connect with anyone. HURTS ME DEEPLY. I’m not sure if thats specifically because he just couldn’t get the font thing down, but I imagine that was a big contributing factor. But thats what specifically stops him here. He eventually slams his keys down on the board and says “IM DONE” and throws himself into a thing he can purely enjoy on his own- science. Even at a young age, I feel he only had 2 lives. One with Sans, and one with science. Then when those worlds combined when he became the royal scientist uhhh- I imagine it got worse.

Speaking of his young age, In these shots he’s also notably a tad older than the later depictions of his younger self with the scarf. Less full of joy and whimsy

“His mind is in a different place” is taken a tad more negatively than in the context of the song I feel, as he’s more or less isolated himself from everyone (but Sans) now in this “giving up” phase of his childhood. I wonder how Sans noticed/took that and if he tried to convince him otherwise, but in this case he just thinks he needs some time to himself.

Also let it be known that the words being crammed in at the “Give him a little bit of space” bit is on PURPOSE and a SILLY LITTLE JOKE/VISUAL GAG GIVEN THE LINE. I AM SO FUNNY.

The colors are also notably dark blues, that get greyer when Wingdings has given up. The light that Sans lets in ((looks into the camera, tearing up)) is still pretty cold despite it being brighter.

The berating is also in uppercase to show most of this is from Wingdings’ pov- I know he speaks in proper casing at this time, but I NEED SOME SORT OF INDICATOR, WORK WITH ME HERE. His main issue was his own self consciousness and desire to communicate properly, since it was said before on the blog that no one really picked on him for his inability to talk to them.

Then we have Papyrus!! The colors are similarly blue, but a lot brighter and a touch purpler and greener. Its from the same world, but not the same person. Also he’s wearing a yellow vest which is the complimentary color to blue ☝️

Papyrus is more heavily associated with warm colors in contrast to Wingdings, but this takes place very early on when he was very confused where his place was (or at least I assume thats what happened). He’s associating with warm colors (yellow) but is somewhat weary about it and still subconsciously clutching onto the comfort in familiarity.

The scene ofc depicts Papyrus being incredibly uncomfortable about any photos of himself as a child. It still definitely…looooks… like him. it just feels really wrong.

Similar thing to last time with the fonts as well, uppercase, Papyrus’ pov, he just wants to know who/WHAT he is.

I enjoy the colors in the photo and how they reallly stand out from the rest of the shot, just another emphasis that the photo feels otherworldly to Papyrus.

This is the part where I start weeping pitifully. The tiny Wingdings to Gaster comparison- it’s just so upsetting, I want to know what this poor child would think if he saw what he ends up as 😭

Wingdings enjoyed dreaming about the real stars he MIGHT get to see one day with Sans. The scene is dark, as it still hasnt happened yet, but still bright and hopeful as he stares up at the light! Its always a possibility. But then we have Gaster, who finally did it. He reached the stars, he gets to look up and say “wow…. I really did it”. Staring up at the void before him. Without Sans…I feel he wouldn’t ponder on it much, and consciously he doesn’t see anything bad about his circumstances, but the crack going down his eye that elludes to a tear says otherwise in the suppressed emotions.

The world Wingdings lived in when he was small, seemed so endless…Despite the underground being small compared to the real world, his imagination was endless. He could dream, he could imagine, and create things, get and give new ideas! But now as an adult that just so happens to be a lovecraftian entity, everything is much more simple and straightforward. At least from his perspective…Gaster may be able to DO way more than he ever could as a small child, but his mind is pretty one track at this point.

I wonder how Gaster feels…Now that they’ve gotten to the surface. without him

Im not sure how Papyrus in the game or even in the comic feels about stars, but Sans for one doesnt have to daydream anymore. They’ve also “done it” just like Gaster, but the hug insinuates less of that and more a “we WON”. They share in this moment together more emotionally than anything.

Again, compared to Gaster and them, they enjoy the moment in their own ways- Gaster just the action of seeing the stars, and Papyrus in what the moment itself means. I feel those are the 2 wants Wingdings had and thats a lot of what Papyrus and Gaster are. 2 halfs of Wingdings’…whole…thing

Also the stars welcoming him with open arms is both in reference to Sans but also Papyrus welcoming/accepting/loving himself…

IN CONCLUSION:

…yknow ive never asked before, but if anyone has any questions or needs clarification im happy to-

[confuzing]

It's normal to have like, six plus AU ideas at once right? Anyway, Head Disciple almost Shang Qinghua confronts the cutest little digression from the narrative you ever did see:

SQH: *crouches down in the dirt to examine Shen Yuan*

SY, a baby: *giggles and pats SQH*

SQH: Ok little bro you're super cute but I know for a fact you should have been stillborn.

SY: *chews on his own hand*

SQH: ...you are criminally adorable. Shit. Well, you're here now. What's the worst that can happen?

SY: *high pitched baby yell*

SQH: Exactly.

SQQ: What the fuck are you doing?

SQH: Just admiring your extremely cute baby shidi!

SQQ: *picks SY up* That better be all you're doing.

SQH: Are you hearing this baby bro? Tell your mom we were just talking.

SY: *giggles*

SQQ: Don't be nice to him Shen Yuan.

SY: *waves at SQH*

SQH: *is slain by SY's extreme baby cuteness*

[kyeommover]

just friends ── kim mingyu

🤍 pairing, kim mingyu x reader

🤍 warnings, non-idol au, fluff, implied childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, mingyu is kind of a flirt, kissing, confession, long-haired mingyu (we moved on too quickly from him), reader sits on mingyu's lap, reader calls mingyu 'gyu'

🤍 summary, you and mingyu realize you aren't just "friends".

🤍 author's note, saw these mingyu pics that screamed 80's college student and had to write something about it cause long-haired mingyu is literally my roman empire🧍consider this to be a LATE mingyu birthday gift cause i planned to do something for his bday the day OF and couldn't think of anything ☹ anyways enjoy!!

🤍 now playing, show me how (men i trust)

🤍 word count, 984 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"oh, come on. a few kisses will not ruin our friendship." mingyu has a whine to his voice you can't help but laugh at, cheeks heating up nevertheless as you side-eye him.

"mingyu, do you hear yourself right now? are you sure you aren't drunk?" you ask, and mingyu grabs your hands, dark eyes serious as he holds your gaze. his hands are warm, and his body radiates heat, the blush on his cheeks matching yours as he shakes his head.

the two of you had settled in on a quiet friday night to binge-watch your favorite childhood movies, and the two of you had just finished watching flipped, laughing and cringing at the bonus clips of the kissing scenes.

if you thought hard about it, you would have noticed that mingyu was acting differently tonight. he had been really touchy with you lately, hands always somewhere on you as he carried on conversations.

you didn't think about it much at first, but you had started to get distracted by it, body warming up as soon as mingyu had attempted to put his arm around you. it was awkward, seeing mingyu trying to flirt with you, but it made your heart skip nevertheless.

it seems that the little childhood crush you swore you had successfully hidden wasn't truly hidden at all.

"you're seriously asking to kiss me right now? friends....friends don't kiss each other on the daily, gyu." you laugh, trying to shrug off the feeling of thousands of butterflies in your stomach.

mingyu stares at you with puppy-like dark brown eyes hidden behind wire-framed glasses, lips parting to reveal sharp canines as he thinks better of his sentence and closes his mouth. he shifts a little bit, broad shoulders blocking any way of escape from the couch as he nods slightly.

"i know that. i know that friends don't want to kiss each other. they shouldn't want to, anyways." mingyu exhales again, pretty eyes downcast to the cushion under him before he looks back up at you again.

"we're not just friends are we?" mingyu asks quietly, eyes piercing as he holds your gaze. you choke on your words, eyes widening slightly as you lock eyes on his frame, fingertips twitching with the urge to push his neck-length hair back.

you were already dancing the fine line between 'friends enjoying a cute movie' and 'friends two seconds away from kissing each other', and you had a feeling that tucking mingyu's hair back for him would be the amount the two of you would need to cross the line into the latter.

"do you want to kiss me?" you ask softly, and mingyu's eyes jump up to meet yours. he's staring down at you, obviously too tall for you to look him straight in the eye.

you had no clue where the confidence to ask that question came from, but you found yourself praying that more would come.

"...maybe." mingyu has the gall to smirk at you, soft lips even more taunting as you heave a sigh, shaking your head slightly.

"i can't believe i'm doing this." something between a sigh and a laugh spills from your lips, and mingyu watches you relapse in judgment, taking your chin in his hand as he pulls you to him.

"don't you dare back out now." mingyu's voice is low, delicate as if he's scared that the moment will pass. you search his eyes, heart slowing down as he traces your jawline with his finger. "i want this. ....o-only if you want it, though."

the nervousness seems to leave your body with mingyu's slight stutter at the end of his sentence, showing that he's just as nervous as you are.

you let your shoulders drop slightly, relaxing your body as mingyu notices the way you lean into his touch. "i want it, gyu."

the words seem like a dream to you as they come out of your mouth, but your heart and mind finally agree on something for once: you want this kiss like your life depends on it.

"good. let me show you what i've been wanting to do to you for ages." mingyu's voice lowers to a whisper as he leans in. his lips lock with yours a few seconds later, massive tanned hands cupping your face as he molds his lips to yours.

your hands are flying to mingyu's tousled hair in an instant, fingers combing through his dark locks as he presses into you. you always knew mingyu's lips were soft, but you never expected they'd be this soft—and on your lips, for god sake.

after a few seconds of silence, the two of you pull away from each other, still in a dazed state of mind. mingyu's glasses had been discarded somewhere, and he sits in front of you now, eyes piercing as he studies your microexpressions.

"you know i've liked you for the longest time, right?" you decide to state the obvious, now that you just kissed your childhood friend.

"yeah," mingyu shrugs nonchalantly, and you take hold of mingyu's broad shoulders quickly, shaking him as he laughs happily.

"seriously? why didn't you do anything about it!?" you pout, and mingyu smiles, finger running across your cheek as he shrugs. "i wanted to see how long you could wait."

"kim mingyu!" you whack mingyu lightly, a smile cracking across your face as mingyu falls back against the couch. you find the confidence to climb up upon mingyu's lap, his hands taking place on your hips as he smiles up at you.

"i love you." the words fall from his lips before you can beat him to it, and your heart flutters, finally hearing mingyu utter the words you had only heard him say in dreams.

"i love you too, mingyu." you smile softly, leaning down to get what's owed to you: mingyu's searing kiss that tastes of a long-waited confession.