#get the juices flowing!

[blackcrystalkitten]

Doodle dump-a-roo!

[happyheidi]

read. write. create. repeat

[etoiile]

CLINGY

starring suna rintaro!

synopsis: when suna pushes your hug off of him, it makes an insecurity grow.

notes: first time writing for hq! def very very ooc for him but wtv im working on it

your possibly biggest fear ever was being annoyingly clingy.

your main love language was physical touch, and you had a very clear way of showing your love and affection. any one of your friends could easily say, "yep, they're really clingy," because you were. you'd greet them excitedly with a hug, cuddle with them during movies, and sling an arm over their shoulders when sitting next to each other.

you knew that you were clingy, and it didn't bother you much. no one around you seemed to dislike it and you knew yourself how much you'd like it if someone paid that much attention to you. you felt most loved when you felt seen, and having someone shower you in hugs made you feel that way, so you did it to other people, to show them how special they were to you.

one of the things that came with being clingy, however, was fear. fear that even though it was something you knew you'd appreciate, it was something annoying to others. the last thing you ever wanted was for someone to find you annoying to be around. that sounded like an absolute nightmare.

so, when you surprised rin with a backhug and he stood there, not reciprocating your hug, and then gently shoved you off, telling you he wasn't in a good mood, not to bother him, and to please, "stop being like a fucking mosquito clinging onto him all the time," you could feel your body trembling as you quickly retreated, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

when he later apologized to you, telling you he was sorry for lashing out at you, you accepted his apology, but the insecurity still lingered.

----

suna was in a great mood.

he'd done really well at practice today, they got let out early enough that the sun was still out and shining, and he practically skipped home at the thought of coming home to your arms.

he unlocked the front door and yelled an, "i'm home," as he pulled his shoes off and set his bag down. you came over to greet him and he found his body tingling with excitement, ready to grab onto you and hold you tight.

"welcome home, rin," you smiled warmly at him, but then turned around and went back to your laptop. he stood there, dumbfounded. what just happened?

he followed you suspiciously, wondering what was going on. you always greeted him with a hug. always. why were you being different today? had you simply forgotten? no, it doesnt work like that. you didn't forget, you chose not to. why?

"...is everything ok?" he asked hesitantly. you didn't seem to be in a bad mood, so why were you acting weird?

you looked up at him, confused. "yeah? why, is something wrong?"

"yeah." he replied, plopping down next to you. "with you."

you frowned, your heart beginning to beat faster. first, you had stopped yourself from throwing your arms around him, which you so desperately wanted to do, in order to be less annoying, but there was still something wrong? what did you do? how were you still annoying him?

"...what do you mean?" you asked, trying your best to mask the nervousness in your voice. you really, really, really didn't want to be annoying. you wanted to be someone rin wanted to be around, not someone who pissed him off when he spent time with you. you really did want to work on the things he didn't like, and improve yourself for him. you braced yourself for what he might say next, reminding yourself that you can't cry just because someone brings up an issue about you.

"you didn't give me 'welcome home' hug." he muttered a little sheepishly, rubbing the bag of his neck. he looked up at you, his hazel eyes making your body feel like jelly. "did i do something wrong?"

you could feel your lower lip trembling as you tried to stop it. "..no! no, of course not. i just...thought that after what you...said yesterday, you'd want some space! i know im clingy, so im gonna work on it, ok?" you mustered out, trying to keep a smile on your face.

suna's eyes widened. he'd lashed out at you yesterday, but he'd apologized for it already, so he thought that meant you knew he didn't mean it. plus, you two were people who joked around a lot and spewed random shit all the time. he knew you knew that, so he didn't think it was on your mind and he didn't think you you thought what he said was true, because it wasn't. at all.

though, seeing as how you were struggling to keep it together, and how you hadn't welcomed him home with a hug for the first time since moving in together, he realized his words had cut deeper than he realized.

"hey," he turned to completely face you. "look at me." he gently guided your chin to meet his eyes, as you were apparently very keen on looking everywhere but him, and forced you to look at him.

"what i said last night... i didn't mean it. at all. you know i love your affection, right? i was just in a bad, bad mood yesterday, and 'm real sorry i lashed out at you because of it. i know i might be shit at expressing it right, but i love you and your clingy ass so much, and i'm sorry if it didn't seem that way. i love your touch and affection, really."

and with that, all of the fear came rushing out of you in the form of tears, and you jumped onto rin as you held him tight, your heart soaring in relief when he did the same. embarrassed to be seen, you buried your face in his chest and just sniffled silently.

"...you really mean it?"

"yeah,"

"it's not annoying? 'coz i want you to tell me if it is, and i'll work on it. really."

"it's not,"

"...you're sure?"

"i'm sure."

you then wiped your tears and giggled as you peppered his neck with kisses, laughing more when he scrunched up from the ticklish sensation.

"i love you," you said, stopping your flurry of kisses for a minute.

he gave you a boyish grin that made you melt and ran his hand through your hair. "i love you too, doll."

𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 ©𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

[ren-054]

Tiny AIW Excerpt…

(This doesn’t guarantee a bigger story in the future, have mercy on me pls /lh)

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

(prologue thing?)

They took away everything I had left to hold onto. Everything but them, at least. It almost felt freeing, a relief, in a strange way.

The scent of flowers was thick and sweet to my senses. My thoughts slowly blur together as I drowned in the heavy aroma.

No longer did I have to uphold myself as a person. In this land, responsibility was merely a word. A silly word, at that. I was being offered the chance to be freed from the pressure of my former life on a silver platter by the people who have unfailingly proved their devotion to me again and again. Who would I be to deny them?

Gentle hands of cool metal joints and warm motors take my own of flesh. There is an unspoken promise in our grasps.

Out there, there wasn’t anything waiting for me. Really, I had submitted to my fate long before I came here. Before I met them.

I would miss the surface.. My friends.. My brother..

If I just stayed right where I was, surely I’d be happy. He said so. They both did. And I believe them, as much as they believe in me that I’ll stay. I have nowhere to run, therefore I’d never think to walk.

Here, I’ll be safe. Here, I’ll be happy.

• • • • •

(Main excerpt)

“Sugarcube!~ It’s time for tea!”

I shift as a voice rouses me awake and I groan in protest. I felt so warm… I didn’t want to get up… Get up…

Get up from where?

Eyes snapping open, I sit up, finding myself on a grass and wool-stuffed mattress. A warm blanket made of soft fibers had been wrapped around my body, shrugged off when I began to scan my surroundings.

The room was dimly lit and the air was crisp, making me imagine the walls were made of stone or perhaps bricks. Unfortunately my vision wasn’t the best without my glasses. Candles were lit about the room. There were no windows, but there was a lone door on the far wall. Was I underground?

“There’s my little sunshine!” The same voice from before warbled, followed by the clinking of porcelain. “Come! Come! Before your tea gets cold!”

With bleary vision, I turn toward the voice. At a small wooden table set in the middle of the room sat a familiarly flamboyant red-clad figure with their knees up to their chest as they tried to sit in one of the child-sized chairs. I began shuffling off the bed, brushing myself off.

“M-Mister Hatter?” I mumbled as I walked over. “Wher—“

The Hatter tutted at me before I could finish, placing a delicate finger up to my lips. “Dearest little dewdrop, I told you, you can just call me Sun!”

“Uh, Sun?” I eyed the liquid the bot was pouring into the cups. Yellow flower petals and flecks of green herbs floated prettily along the surface of the unknown brew.

“Hmmm?” Hatter hummed, the swirls in his eyes seeming to glow with warmth at the sound of his name.

“Where am I? I didn’t fall down another hole again, did I?” I rubbed at my eyes. “And have you seen my glasses anywhere?”

“Oh! Those are right here!” Dodging my first question, the Hatter pointed at the other side of the table which sat the other teacup along with the distinct sheen of my lenses against the candlelight. “Come on! Have a sit with this lonely hatter!”

“Ah, right.” I nodded before taking my seat across from the bot, putting my glasses back on once I sat. Ah, vision at last.

The first thing I realized was the room was dingy, dustier than I expected. Before I could really notice any other finer details, Sun piped up once again.

“Very good, my dear,” he praised with a light laugh that made me nearly blush. “Now then, where you are. That’s a simple one!”

I leaned in with anticipation. With a relaxed—almost smug—gaze, the Hatter answered.

“I brought you home.”

[melonsharks]

Who's that hiding in the apple tree, clinging to a branch?

Don't be afraid it's only me, hoping for a little romance.

[snail-noodle]

a king's tragedy

i wanna see this guy suffer (lovingly saying this)

[nounaarts]

Art block is killing me. So it's just this loser

[paletss]

I lost you

For @sootslash / @fog-and-the-frost cause oh man. Oh boy

[kkvqwrites]

You Flinched | 141 Headcannons

Don't mind me, just some 141 boys reacting to finding out reader has a history of abuse or DV. We all know that our boys would never harm a loved one, but I began thinking about them responding to their loved one being triggered. Because trauma isn't rational.

CW: DV mentioned/alluded to (not on-screen), trauma

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,833

A/N: Yes this is self-indulgent because I have my own history and use my comfort characters to help. So I hope it can help someone else in the same way it helps me. Also forgive me, I threw it together on a whim and didn't really edit it.

Simon "GHOST" Riley

Simon is usually very careful with how he presents. He knows he's big, he knows he's intimidating, and most of all he knows what it's like to be vulnerable and scared of someone bigger than you. He knows when to use his voice/stature to his advantage (like on the battlefield) vs when to tone it down (like in private). He never wants to be scary to those he loves, ever. In fact, he wants his loved ones to have the opposite experience from what he had growing up.

That said, we all have our moments. It was, you both could admit, a silly argument over what ended up amounting to a non-issue. He was fresh back from the field and sleep-deprived and you had had a long shitty day and so a small disagreement became an argument. Somewhere in the bickering Simon decided he was over it. He stood, crumpling the paper he was holding into a fist and raising his voice, which he almost never did.

The combination of the fist and the yelling was what did it. He stood up so tall, so fast, and suddenly you were eight again, hiding in the cupboards and terrified to make a sound. Not knowing what would happen if you were found, but knowing for certain it wouldn't be good. When your parents went into their rages, there was nothing to do but hide and wait it out. As if reciting a dance you knew by heart, you shrank back, hands coming up defensively.

Simon noticed instantly, despite your best attempts to play it off. He knew all too well the look of a terrorized inner child and recognized it immediately in your pale face and shrinking posture. It broke his heart; he immediately regretted lashing out as it was, but this was even worse.

He'd step back, giving you space. He'd ask permission before approaching you and before hugging you, and once you gave it you'd be wrapped in an embrace that was both tender and hard as steel. He'd hold you for a long time, not saying anything. If you cracked and it all came spilling out, he'd listen intently. If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd respect it and not breathe a word about it until you were ready. You could feel in his heartbeat his need to make you feel safe warring with his desire to find whoever made you afraid and teach them a lesson about fear.

Simon is a man of actions, not words, and he's never been a fan of "sorry" and instead prefers follow-through. Now, though, the word poured from his lips. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you forgave him wordlessly.

The next free time you both had, he'd surprise you by taking you to a shooting range. Another weekend, he'd teach you basic knife skills and how to throw a decent punch. If questioned, he'd say it was something he'd been meaning to do for a while with a dismissive shrug. But you had a hunch, even if he couldn't or wouldn't verbalize it, that he was sharing with you the ways he'd learned to overcome feeling powerless when he was younger. By learning to defend and fight back, you could take your agency back and walk into the world unafraid. It didn't matter that he'd grind anyone who bothered you into dust, because it was about you and making you feel empowered. Simon wasn't one to give you bouquets of flowers and poems, but he could give you this. And, slowly but surely, it started to work.

John "SOAP" Mactavish

You and Johnny were out with some mutual friends at the pub one night, drinking and having fun. Your boisterous Scotsman was ever the social butterfly, and he never failed to bring the party wherever he went.

You and a friend were laughing at something on your phone, and when you handed it Johnny to show him, you froze as your eyes saw an unmistakable silhouette over his shoulder. You recovered quickly, sure that it was a mistake, but not quickly enough. Johnny's face went serious as he studied your expression, which was suddenly tense.

You'd play it off, not wanting to ruin the good vibe. You'd even double check to reassure yourself that it wasn't him, but your stomach would sink once you looked back. In a corner of the bar, nursing a glass of dark liquor, was your ex. He noticed you at the same time, and the eye contact made you feel sick.

At this, Johnny would take a look for himself, and would pick out the man eyeing you from across the bar right away. After giving the man a once-over, he'd turn back to you.

"Is that who I think it is?" You'd nod. You had told him bits and pieces of how your ex treated you, but left out the worst of it lest Johnny go on a rampage to defend your honor. He's loyal to a fault and would not take kindly to anyone mistreating people he cared about.

The unfortunate thing was, being special forces came with an ability to read people and situations, and your reaction to seeing your ex filled in the gaps well enough for Johnny to understand what wasn't being said. You were scared, and the man seemed to know it by the smug expression he wore as he stared at you.

Rather than cause a scene, as you had feared, Johnny scooted so he completely blocked your view of the other man (and the man's view of you via his broad shoulders). Seamlessly, he'd continue the conversation with the folks around you as if nothing was amiss, despite his hand never leaving your thigh in a move that was at once possessive and reassuring. You leaned into the touch, comforted by Johnny's presence and relieved that the situation had seemingly blown over.

A bit later, Johnny announced he was going to the bar to get another round for the table. On instinct, your gaze shot to where your ex had been sitting, but his seat was now empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, your eyes turned to follow Johnny through the room. You could never get tired of looking at him. It wasn't until he reached the bar and clapped a fellow patron on the shoulder that you realized the individual he was talking to wasn't the bartender, but your ex who had moved seats. Keeping his hand on the man's shoulder, Johnny struck up a conversation like a true natural.

Oh no.

You braced for a commotion, but Johnny's expression and body language stayed friendly and open. You couldn't hear what he was saying to the man, and if asked he'd tell you he was just introducing himself. But when he let go of your ex's shoulder and flagged down the bartender to order a drink, the other man threw some money onto the bar and all but ran out the door.

The place would become a frequent haunt for your friend group, but you'd never see your ex darken the doorstep again after Johnny's talk with him. Good riddance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You and Kyle had been going steady for a bit now, and you were excited to introduce him to your family. Well, most of your family. You didn't have a good relationship with your stepdad, and Kyle respected that it was a sore spot for you. He would never pry, but he could pick up on how your tone would change when your stepdad would come up in conversation, how your posture would change when your mom dragged him into the frame to say hello during your video chats.

A big family dinner was the perfect opportunity to introduce everyone to Kyle, and you were looking forward to it. Truly. You had a nice outfit picked out and Kyle bought some fancy wine to bring, hoping for a good first impression. He needn't have worried; your aunts and cousins all fawned over him, and your uncles were endlessly impressed by his stories from his job. Long story short, he was a hit.

He stayed by you all night, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he made conversation. At first, you chalked it up to being the new guy in the room, but the ease of his posture suggested he wasn't nervous. Rather, his frequent check-ins started to make it feel like his closeness was for your benefit. You were the one who was nervous, looking over your shoulder every few minutes praying you didn't see a certain face in the crowd. You loved your family, but get-togethers always came with a certain amount of anxiety. Every time your eyes strayed around the room, Kyle's followed, taking in the crowd. Even more frequently, you caught him sneaking glances at you, as if assessing if you were alright.

You were alright, until the front door opened and you heard a specific voice boom in greeting. Your mom and stepdad strode in, late as always, your mom carrying the casserole dish and your stepdad slapping a case of beer on the counter. Your demeanor changed immediately, shrinking yourself as if you could become invisible if you just hunched enough. It didn't work, of course, and they spotted you within seconds. Before you could react, Kyle was in front of you, placing himself between you and your parents with a smile and his hand out to shake.

"I'm Kyle, heard lots about you," he said neutrally, shaking hands with both of them. They turned to you, but Kyle spoke again. "How was the drive? Heard you had to come across that new expressway, have they finished that yet?"

It was like that the rest of the evening. Kyle remained an immovable barrier between you and your stepdad, keeping him engaged in conversation and unable to address you. You and your mom were able to slip away shortly to help set the table and catch up, and every time you snuck a glance at the men out of the corner of your eye, the view was the same: Kyle orienting himself as a physical wall, keeping you out of eyeshot. His body language was at-ease, his smile friendly enough, but his eyes were tight, not like they had been when talking with everyone else.

When everyone grabbed a seat, Kyle pulled a chair out for you before quickly stealing the spot next to you from your stepdad. You looked at him with gratitude and he squeezed your knee reassuringly under the table, all the while maintaining conversations with those around him as if nothing was amiss. If you hadn't already loved him, you certainly would have after that night.

Captain John Price

Ah, spring cleaning.

Well, it was November, but still. It's refreshing to get rid of old stuff and start anew, but it's also essential when you're combining two households. John had finally convinced you to move in with him, so the two of you were creating piles labeled "Keep" "Trash" and "Donate". Upon reaching the bottom of an old box labelled "Miscellaneous," you came upon something that had your stomach churning. Old records: Johnny Cash, the Sex Pistols, the Doors. You hadn't realized you had them, and you weren't particularly fond of who they belonged to.

You didn't realize you had frozen in place until John snapped you out of it, coming up behind you with a hand snaking around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Whatcha got, love?" He whistled when you showed him.

"The condition those are in, you could get a pretty penny. I didn't know you collected vinyl, I'd have bought a player."

"They're not... mine." You explained, as briefly as possible, that they were your ex's and must have gotten mixed up in your stuff when you split several years ago. He hummed in understanding.

"Right, then. To the garbage with it?"

It was the logical solution. He hadn't asked after them, so he must not miss them that badly. You would rather lie down in traffic than have any contact with him. But John's comment about their value stopped you from throwing them onto the "Trash" pile. Damn your too-kind heart, always causing problems.

It was easy enough to find your ex's contact info; you had changed your number after the split, he hadn't. Soon enough, you had agreed on a time for him to swing by and grab the stuff when he was free. The rest of moving made the days go by in a blur of organizing and unpacking and bickering over where the toaster should go and which wall to mount the TV on. That is, until you looked at your calendar and realized that it was today. This afternoon was the interaction you'd spent the week trying not to think about. You'd stepped around the box of his things all week, mentally blocking out why it was sitting in the front hall. You'd managed to stay busy, and bury your anxiety in the endless tasks that come with setting up a new home.

But time had run out, and in mere hours you were going to be face to face with someone you had once sworn never to see again. The realization made the room feel too small, made the air feel too warm, made you feel like you were suffocating. Suddenly you just had to get out.

"We need... yogurt." You blurted, walking too quickly and too loudly into the foyer to grab your keys.

"Yogurt? Right now?" John called from the kitchen.

"Yes, right now! For... for a recipe," you mustered, hoping you sounded convincing. This had been a mistake, a huge mistake, and your brain was screaming RUN! RUN! RUN! as loudly as it could. Hand on the doorknob, however, you froze. If you left, John would be here when your ex arrived. He'd answer the door, introduce himself, and hand off the items. Shouldn't that be ideal? No contact between you and him, simple and easy. But rather than provide relief, the thought made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a defiling almost, to think of him entering your new sanctuary and meeting the love you thought you'd never have. It felt wrong on every level, and your feet rooted to the spot in agreement.

"Still here, love?" John came into view, the book he'd been reading in hand, finger acting as a bookmark. "I was thinking, I could go if you wanted. Just text me what we need. Don't you have someone coming by?"

Yes - that's it, you thought. Have John go, get him away from here before he could arrive. You'd handle it on your own; you'd done it before.

Nodding, you stepped aside, slipping your shoes off next to the door. John put his book down and approached, taking your place and grabbing his keys off the hook. He turned to kiss your forehead, but stopped short and stared at you. He noticed for the first time that you were fidgety, as if anxious for him to leave when usually it was the exact opposite. His ever-observant eyes spent several seconds taking you in, and you knew as he asked the question that he already knew the answer.

"Everything alright?"

Of course it was! How silly to think otherwise! You began playing it off, the same way you had gotten so good at doing back when you and he were still together and your friends would ask you the same thing. Just hyper, just busy, just this, just that, always an excuse to avoid saying "I'm afraid." Afraid of what mood he'd be in, afraid of what awaited you when you two would be alone later. Fear you hadn't felt in a long time, but could feel now just as bone-deep as it had been back then. As if your body had stored it as muscle memory just in case this day came.

"Are you nervous about something?" It was another question you could tell he already knew the answer to, and you wanted to feel irked about it, but looking into those eyes you suddenly just felt tired. Tired of carrying the fear and the uncertainty alone. So you exhaled for a long time, and slowly told him exactly what you were nervous about.

It felt good to get it off your chest. Until now, no one had ever known the extent of what had gone on. You expected John to explode into some fit of hyper-masculine protectiveness like guys on TV, but he didn't. He listened to you talk, and then he nodded and sat on the couch, reopening his book on his lap.

"What are you doing?" You eyed him suspiciously, unable to believe that that was the end of the conversation.

"Well, I'm waiting right here. And when this lad knocks, I'm going to answer the door and have a little chat with him."

[knifefightandchill]

FINAL FANTASY XV ↳ Title screens

[weebsinstash]

Alright bestie I’m on that shit again

So yandere Superman, right? Like obviously your fucked. The only other yandere in existence that might just be able to keep you from him is Batman, but even then he’d probably sooner work together just to ensure your safety- but that’s a prompt for another day.

Back to yan Superman, imagine you’re his darling and he is “keeping you safe”. But one day, you get snatched up by some organization that wants to use you as leverage or some shit, but you are just sobbing in relief at maybe being free- only to have Superman show up and do some not so super things to everyone who “stole” you

There are just so many casually horrifying things about Superman that people don't realize until you start like digging into his lore. "Oh he's super strong and a super fast flyer" actually he can do basically anything at those super speeds to the point he can literally even PROCESS THOUGHTS at near light-speed which means he has Absolutely Terrifying reaction times and can make plans and schemes on a dime, which, you know, can be even better utilized by him being intelligent. He has natural invulnerability so if you throw a punch at him too hard you could literally shatter the bones in your hand and he can't even control that, like you could literally hurt yourself with him on accident! He can see across INSANE DISTANCES and his x-ray vision doesn't have like a set range so he could do anything from, peep inside buildings to spy on you, to looking under your clothing for any bruises or injuries or even self harm marks, to peeking behind your hero disguise to learn your true identity, to seeing if there's anything inside your stomach and seeing if you're eating properly. Like jesus christ he literally found out Lois was pregnant from waking up one morning and suddenly hearing the heartbeat of the FETUS, there's literally nothing from him pulling that stereotypical "I know you're nervous or lying or afraid because I can literally hear your heartbeat increase" scary bullshit

And let's talk about Lois for a sec because my god her death was literally what kicked off the Injustice timeline? And there are other forms of Superman media where she just straight up dies naturally of cancer! Sure we could take the easy way and say "in this au Lois never existed or was just Clark's friend and he loved YOU" (which is my preferred default tbh bc, no competition for Reader lol) but I mean if you're going for that angst, that real whump, a yandere Clark Kent that just lost his wife/unborn child to either the Injustice incident or cancer, now overcome with grief? And in those cancer timelines they usually already have a son, Jonathan, and sometimes Jordan, and here's Clark thinking, well, his boy needs a mother, and he's got these weird feelings for you, and lil Jonny clearly has affection for you, maybe bring a bit of a platonic yan himself who sees you as either a big sister or even a secondary mom, so... be his wife maybe?

Like my god if Reader somehow helped him through the grief of losing Lois and managed to avoid "fully activating" Superman's anime villain arc, like he's going full fascist in the Injustice 2 Bad Ending, then some shit DEFINITELY goes down when Reader gets taken away. It just reactivates all his trauma. No! He can't lose anyone else! Jonathan can't lose anyone else! You're not just someone he loves, you're his FRIEND!

You're just huddled in whatever cell you've been kept in with your black eyes and bruises and knuckles bloodied from trying to fight back when you hear Clark's voice and you look up with excitement that just falls immediately off your face because holy shit did he just unlock that thumbprint scanner with a severed arm, and suddenly you're realizing there are other shades of red on his costume and dripping from his fingers

I can only imagine like, ngl I considered a sequel to my fic Doubt where Reader escapes the manor and runs into Supernan as the only other person who can protect you, so here we would have the inverse: you're the only one who knows about Clark's increasing instability and, while you still have your own freedom and autonomy, try to speak to Bruce about it, and now you have Batman Vs Superman: Competing For Your Heart Edition. I can only imagine what sort of unhinged reactions there would be if you think you've got Batman alone and you're beginning to cry all "Bruce I'm really worried about Clark, he isn't acting like himself, there's something wrong with him" and. Clark is like literally using his x-ray vision to read lips through the walls if he can't use his super hearing to outright eavesdrop.

Of course as you suggested, I'm always a slut for ideas with"oh shit I ran to this guy to help me and he's ALSO crazy, now they're teaming up and I'm in some weird shared/poly situation with TWO nutjobs". Lmao you go to Bruce concerned about Kal and Bruce goes to confront him and Clark just drops "did you know Y/N has been hiding self harm cuts under their hero suit also wow they smoke HELLA weed and im worried about their lungs and all the stuff they do when they're alone that no one else knows about 🥺" and suddenly here's Bruce " thanks i hate this actually :)" and there's a scheme concted to spy on you or move you elsewhere.

I've even thought of "Reader oh nooOoooOo, that, giant monster or villain attack or whatever also coincidentally destroyed your shitty little apartment complex? You mean Clark 'accidently' got sent flying into your building or smacked some giant creature into it and now you don't have a place to live? And you're broke too? Oh no 🥺 Well, BATMAN has this nice big house with lots of room in for you to stay toooootally 'temporarily', we PROMISE uwu"

Batman is the one who can put a tracking chip injected into your skin or even disguised as a filling in one of your teeth, and Superman is the one who can zoom off to rescue you/retrieve you "faster than a speeding bullet". I think one of the only people who could bring them down together at that point would be like. Fucking DARKSEID and, Jesus no, you definitely don't want HIM treating you as a pet 😭 the evil Batman that was brainwashed by him in the Apokolips War movie was scary enough (and scary HOT, lmao, let him keep me as some sort of prize and the only luxury Darkseid will allow him as a reward for his obedience. Lord Batman goes from having a meeting talking about like enslaving people to returning to his quarters and railing tf outta you because he's still holding onto some slim vestiges of humanity where he cares about you but also using you as his personal anti stress fuck toy)

[warcrimetime]

Boop ❤️

[oldworldghost]

Telling stories to Pinochio fron Lies of P about Fairytales or whatever crap reader made when reader is bored !!

[Preferably former librarian Reader x Pino :3]

Tell me a story and I'll tell you I love you

↳ Anon I absolutely love this prompt, so I had to write a little something for it. This is definitely more focused on Pincchios' feelings for you as opposed to the actually story telling bit, and I think by the end especially it kind of stops being about the request a bit I am so sorry LMAO. Let me know if you want hcs or something else instead! :D

↳ This is currently unedited, I’ll do that tomorrow!

Pinocchio sits beside you, head resting limply on your shoulder as he finds himself falling deeper in love with you.

You’re sharing one of the many stories in your knowledge with him, something old and undoubtedly picked up from your time as a librarian. Something – Pinocchio thinks – that only you know now, expect maybe Antonia, but he’s seen you catch even her by surprise with fanciful worlds and characters. It’s an insurmountable act of love, to hold so much in your mind and with such care. No details [at least from his knowledge] forgotten, no characters left aside for fear of boring the crowd. Every bit just as important as the other, no matter how minuscule it is.

Some part of him wonders if you do the same for everyone else, collect the lore of the hotels final inhabitants with the same wonder you share for characters. What do you remember about him? Pinocchio likes to think that you hold onto everything he’s shared with you, sprinkle him across the stories of your own making. Maybe he’s something that inspiration can be found in, someone you admire more than anything. Built up in your mind like the greatest of heroes. You could care that much, he thinks, and he could even be your favourite.

Maybe you’ve even found Pinocchios’ love for you spread across his pages. He doesn’t see how you could miss it, there’s so much that he doesn’t even know what to do with it except sink in it. Day after day, night after night. He’s sinking even now, nestled into you side in one of the hotels many unused rooms.

It’s your voice that keeps Pinocchios’ attention. You’re onto the part of the story where a great battle takes place, the last defence of mankind against a dark and terrible lord. Both the lords strongest servant and a king have been slain, and yet despite the story nearing its peak Pinocchio finds himself unable to focus on your words. He catches phrases, can understand your tone and the pronunciation of speech, but it’s difficult to put the meaning together. Any other day and he’d be engrossed in it, hanging of every syllable like a starving animal, but today his mind is preoccupied.

The feeling in his chest is growing unbearable, and he wonders if his gears will simply cease to work as a result. It might not be the worst thing in the world, to die by your side. He might even be able to call it a pleasure, a privilege.

Still, Pinocchio doesn’t particularly care for the idea of his own death, especially not when there are more pressing matters on his mind, and so with a bout of almost uncharacteristic boldness he sits up. You don’t pay him any mind, not until hands – rougher than he means them to be – turn your body towards his. Lamely your sentence finishes, head tilting to the side and eyebrows knitting together in a look of confusion and mild amusement.

Pinocchio takes the opportunity to look at you, really look at you. Blue glass eyes take in every detail, every curve and dip and mark, your breathes growing shakier as he leans in. There is a mole under your left eye, he notes, a faint scar running across your mouth. He traces it with his finger and your breath hitches, an incoherent mumble of something that feels like it’s his name. Moonlight shines in above your head like a halo, and Pinocchio thinks you couldn’t look anymore gorgeous than you already do. He wonders if he looks as beautiful to you as you do to him. The sparkle in your eyes, the glint of what could be called awe suggests that he does. Pride and love fill in Pinocchios’ chest until he’s moving without thought, leaning – sinking, always sinking - into you. Lips, clumsy and adoring, press against your own in a fleeting kiss, pulling away before you’re given the chance to respond.

You see the man before you grow from confident to timid in the moonlight, as if coming to the realisation of what he had just done.

“I-” Pinocchio cuts himself off, going to speak only to be met with his own silence.

He doesn’t know why words aren’t forming, and for a moment he wonders if something malfunctioned in him during the kiss. You can see the gears turning in his head, a question forming on the tip of your tongue. This time, Pinocchio cuts you off instead of himself.

“I’m in love with you. I’m sorry to be so sudden, but I,” he takes a moment to steady himself, “I could not be quiet about it any longer.”

A breathless laugh bubbles in your throat in response, a smile curving its way on your mouth as you go to speak, “I was wondering if you did. For a puppet you’re not exactly the most subtle person I’ve met.”

It’s Pinocchios’ turn to be surprised.

“You knew?”

“I was hoping I did. Never said anything because I didn’t know if you felt that way or if it was wishful thinking on my part. Hell, didn’t even know if you could actually feel such a thing. I mean, I know my stories are good, but I didn’t know if they were that good.”

“You... feel the same.”

“Of course,” the smile on your face is crooked and it takes everything in him not to kiss you again, “you’re a very hard person not to love.”

“Say it, please.”

You laugh once more. It is the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“I love you, Pinocchio. More than anything,” his heart feels fit to burst, “now can I please get back to my story? We’re nearing my favourite part and I’d like to be done by morning.”

“Yes, please. I would like that.”

As Pinocchio settles back into your side something in him clinks into place. He is unsure what it is, but as your hand slides into his and your fingers intertwine Pinocchio thinks that this is what it means to feel at home. The feeling of love only deepens, tearing it’s way further still into the recesses of his being. It will leave him bare and broken before you, he is certain of it.

Listening to you speak; Pinocchio can’t think of a better way to be swallowed whole.

[randomest-art]

Could you draw Kinger with Pomni?

why not lol, a guy whos half aware and almost twice ur size would make a decent barricade i think

[carkeyarts]

manna of the wyrm

(inspired by this post by @mebis-art-dump!! bc it got me thinking abt the wyrm carcass)

[chronicowboy]

worst thing in the world is getting a bunch of inspiration on a wip and sitting down at the doc with a new lease of life only to still be unable to write a single word