#honestly therapeutic to write

[hannieehaee]

not sure if anyone's noticed but ive been posting way less (other than a few longer fics per month) but i recently moved and changed jobs so my free time is practically nonexistent now lol ill still finish the many requests i have but itll just be very slow im sorry<//3

[jacks347]

The bell on the coffee shop door jingled as Raven pushed it open, the familiar "Welcome to the Regrets Cafe!" greeting barely being processed. She ordered her usual, hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a peppermint stick. Call it childish, Raven found it comforting when she was wallowing in her own thoughts. Blame it on her growing motherly instincts from raising Paloma.

She carefully cradled the warm mug in her hands when her name was called, watching the steam peek our from the gaps in the melting whipped cream as she settled into her usual table by one of the massive front windows with a world weary sigh. What she failed to notice was that, for once, the table wasn't empty.

"Rough day?"

Raven just about fell out of her chair, head snapping up to see a person sitting across from her, the barest hint of a smile peeking out from behind the coffee mug they were sipping from.

When Raven finally recomposed herself in her seat, she cleared her throat before answering the question. "That's a word for it, sure." The person hummed, setting down their mug and leaning forward over the table. "Mentally or physically?" "...what?"

They gestured to the shop around them. "This is the Regrets Cafe. Hardly the place people go when they're just tired from a hard day at work but it wouldn't surprise me. So, I ask again, mentally or physically?" Raven blinked a couple times before sitting back in her chair, deflating a little. "Mentally." "I figured. What's on your mind?" "Are you always this prying?" "Only to the people who sit at my table looking like they hold the weight of the world on their shoulders."

Raven highly considered just getting up and moving to a different table at this point just so she wouldn't have to actually talk about what was going on in her head but by now, this person had caught their attention. "You first. Why are you here?" They chuckled at that, sitting back and crossing their arms over their chest. "Should've expected that." They turned and stared out the window into the setting sunlight. "Just thinking about someone I shouldn't." "Ex?" A whirlwind of emotions passed over their face at the question; anger, betrayal, sadness, regret, before landing on a cold mask of apathy with a click of their tongue. "Tsk. Nah, he's burning in hell where he belongs. Just...a friend who got caught in the crossfire." They finally turned their gaze back to Raven. "Now you. Got an ex on the mind?"

Raven sighed, laying their forehead on the table with a quiet thunk. "Ex feels too strong of a word for him. Like yes that is his title but it doesn't feel right." "Was he a good ex or a bad ex?" "What's the difference?" "Physical and/or psychological abuse. The fact you have to ask is a touch concerning." "Oh, well, by that definition he was a good ex." "Okay, where's the regret?" Raven paused for a moment to swallow the rock in her throat that had formed as she lifted her head off the table. "...he didn’t deserve to die. If it wasn't for me, he'd still be alive." "Ah, there it is. Survivors guilt." They nodded sagely. "Can't say it's an unfamiliar feeling, though it is an unfortunate one." "Did you lose your friend too?" "Mm, not quite. They're still alive just...don't remember me. And I can't talk to them again." "Can't bring yourself to?" "No, legally I cannot speak to them again. Trust me, I would if I could."

Raven almost laughed. Legalities, boy was she familiar with those. "Yeah, I get that. I lost my name the day I lost him. I lost...everything. Everything I'd ever known died with him. It had to." "Run away? Start a new life?" "Not exactly? Went into witness protection." "Ahhh, that explains it. So you had to start all over, leave everything behind whether you wanted to or not." "Pretty much." "Are you scared?" "Of witness protection?" "Of forgetting. Forgetting who you were, who you used to be. Are you scared of the day you forget your own name?" The intense stare the person was leveling them with made Raven shudder. She almost felt like she was back on trial. "Sometimes. But at the same time, that life brought me nothing but pain, I'm glad to leave it behind."

They sat back, eyes turning to the ceiling like they were searching for something in the tiles. "Do you regret loving him?" Their tone was softer, more thinking out loud than an actual question. Raven smiled the smallest bit, taking a swallow of her now significantly cooled cocoa. "Sometimes. But then I look at the people I have now and remember that I found them through loving him. So maybe it was all worth it." She watched their head tilt back down, looking at Raven again. "What about you? Do you regret loving your ex for what happened to your friend?" They sighed, chewing on their lip as they contemplated their words. "Every day. Every day I regret loving him because if I hadn't, they would be fine. They wouldn't have had to go through everything that they did. They wouldn't have had to get their mind wiped and all the memories taken away. They wouldn't have...had to forget me. Had to forget how they helped me in the lowest point of my life. Had to forget how much I cared about them." They paused, their jaw clenching to hold back tears. "But then I see the domino effect. The things that happened because of it. The person I met because of it. And then I wonder if it was all worth it and if fate really does exist. It's-" "Confusing. And complicated. And frustrating as hell." Raven finished for them, making them chuckle. "Sounds like you've done this before." Raven shrugged with a smile. "Not so much a reoccurance, more so just a more recent one." "Oh? So then miss recent expert, what's your opinion?" They leaned forward with a smile and a quirked brow. "What's your advice?"

Raven considered what to say for a while. What would her advice be? "Others can't write your story for you. They can hand you the pen and paper but they can't put the words on the page. You have to write your ending yourself. It's up to you to decide if you want to write it happily or not." The words rolled off her tongue easier than she thought they would. Her own spin on the words that kept her from running away from the best thing that happened to her. Would Crow be proud of her? She hoped so.

The person's eyed widened for a moment, blinking in surprise. "That was...shockingly profound. And actually really good advice. Huh. I'll have to remember that." Raven stirred her mostly melted peppermint stick through her cup. "Your turn now. What sage wisdom do you have for a newcomer to grief?" Raven half teased, not really expecting an answer.

"The world isn't out to get you. You're allowed to rely on others, the people around you want to help. You can't keep throwing yourself at the wall and expecting it to break every time. One of those times, it's going to be you that breaks. But when you do, you don't have to pick up all the pieces by yourself." They spoke softly, sounding like they were repeating a mantra. Maybe they were repeating advice of their own. Raven couldn't help laughing. "Sounds like we both are rehashing the words of someone far better at this than we are, huh." "Aw damn, you can tell that easily?" They both dissolved into laughter, not noticing the jingle of the bell at the door.

"Darlin?" A smooth Southern accent made Raven turn her head. Standing behind her new friend was a man, flannel shirt and worn blue jeans with a cowboy hat. Looked like he'd walked off the set of a western movie. Her friend tipped their head back to look at him and smiled. "Hey there cowboy. Come to find me?" "Clearly. I've been trying to text you but you haven't been answering." "Ah shit, have you? Sorry, got caught up talking, I haven't been checking my phone." They pulled their phone out of their pocket and scrolled through what Raven assumed was their missed messages. The cowboy just smiled and ruffled their hair. "It's fine, darlin. I'm glad you made a friend." He turned and faced Raven. "Sorry, should've introduced myself. Name's Sam. Their partner." Raven almost slapped herself when she realized she'd spent this whole time talking and never bothered to introduce herself. "Oh, hi. Sorry, I never actually introduced myself. I'm-" "Miss Raven!!"

A familiar excited voice interrupted her, the girl it belonged to running up to cling to her in a hug. "Paloma, don't run, you could slip." Ivan chided softly, coming up behind her. Raven just laughed, squeezing the little girl in return. "She's fine, Ivan. What are you even doing here?" "Well you weren't home at your usual time and hadn't texted so I figured you stopped on your way home somewhere and came to take a look. I'm just glad we found you." Ivan leaned down and kissed Raven's forehead, earning an amused look from her new friend. "He yours, I'm assuming?" "Yeah, he's mine. And the cowboy belongs to you?" "Who, this guy? Nah, he's just some puppy I picked up off the street one day." "Darlin..." Sam warned but his smile made the threat hollow. "Well, I thank you two for finding my girlfriend and keeping her in one place. Made it easier on me." Ivan offered, earning a wave from Sam. "Ah, don't thank me, thank my partner here. I only came in a minute before you did to find them myself. So I should be thanking you." "Please, it was no trouble. It was...quite the productive conversation." Raven waved off his thanks, smiling softly at her friend. They shrugged, returning a half smile. "Yeah, you could say that. Have a few less regrets than when I walked in here. Maybe one day I'll get rid of them all." They downed the rest of their drink and stood, taking Sam's hand. "Well, it was nice to meet you Raven. Maybe we'll run into each other again." "Maybe. Stay safe out there." "You more." They gave a final wave and headed out, leaving Raven with Ivan and Paloma.

"So, who were they?" Ivan questioned, taking the now empty seat. "Honestly...I have no idea. I never asked for their name. But they gave an interesting perspective for me to think about." "In a good way or a bad way?" "Good way, definitely." "Well that's nice." Raven hummed in agreement, turning to look out the window. "Maybe one day I'll stop having regrets too." "Miss Raven, are you going to finish your drink?" Paloma asked, poking the now cold mug. "Ah crap, my cocoa! Aw, now it's all cold." Raven pouted sadly, making Ivan laugh. "Oh Raven, has held the weight of lives in her hands yet pouts when her hot chocolate gets cold."

"Oh we'll see how funny it is when I pour it over your head mister!" "No, wait, I concede! Ah!"

(I have no idea why I wrote this. I had the thought "What if Darlin and Raven had a conversation about how dating their exes changed their lives" and boom, this was born. Okay this post is long enough, I'm shutting up now.)

[running-with-kn1ves]

My brain goes brrrrrr for Cirdan, and since you mentioned he was a massive virgin, could you write a lil something about the Physical intimacy TM of his first time, like how was it?

well *technically* his first time was right after the marriage ceremony, though that honestly was more of a forced performance than anything. I mentioned it a little bit in the OG one-shot but its a sort of elven tradition for couples on their wedding night to be physically intimate, lest their marriage be doomed and void of love or attraction. However, for Cirdan and reader, it wasn't particularly enjoyable like most would assume. It was mostly awkward and without rhythm, with both cirdan and his darling fumbling around just to get the job done. It was an experience that neither would prefer to talk about.

After that though, once Cirdan and reader became more comfortable with one another, say specifically after their bath moment, he was far more involved therein. Cirdan's a very affectionate lover and loves to be the small spoon, so he very much has his head buried in reader's neck, partly out of bashfullness and overstimulation. He's had very little sex education in his lifetime, so the entire process was very much a trial and error. Despite his amateurity, he gets into the rhythm and emotional aspect of sex very quickly. His lack of experience has led him to be very sensitive, and honestly finishes twice before the reader does. He has stamina for days though-- and despite his emotions running wild, hes very in tune with the readers needs.

He honestly has a massive praise kink that's both sexual and nonsexual; though his eagerness to please and lack of hesitation from how pent up he is, is far more present on the bedroom. If you so much as utter how good hes being, how good hes making you feel, it takes the elf all of his willpower not to finish right then and there.

I'd like to think he was mildly emotional once he was physically intimate past the original wedding ceremony. The first time after that, he may have shed a few tears from the rush of physical intensity, but also because he had never felt so loved within one moment. Hes a strongly silent type, but he wears his heart on his sleeve with physical touch as his love language. Whether its suffocating the reader with a bear hug or putting them in a mating press, hes all in for it.

[artistcheez]

Working on a short story series centered around Hobo Heart, in which Slenderman doesn’t exist but the pastas somehow end up clustering together as a community. Mainly features OCs and is an excuse to use up the random horror story ideas I wrote down but could never use for a longer form stand alone original story. It’s called “Freaks of Bear County” on AO3.

Anyway this is Toby as a middle aged man and resident redneck. He is for the most part stable but still has some feral raccoon energy in him and will throw down with god if he looked at his “family” wrong.

[medicinemane]

Should make a pain killer that actually kills (or even touches) pain

[dark-twist-fairytales]

"What does home look like to you?"

~~~

This question is asked to the ninjas that protect the city during an interview one day. Each one give a different response from each other, yet still connected together.

--Zane--

"What does home look like to you?"

"Home looks warm, filled the right amount of noise, bright and brash even on bad days. Home looks like a fire that won't diminish, even after a strong gust a wind, yet still has time to dull in the rain."

"Heh, sounds like you're describing someone more than a home."

"My home is Kai."

--Cole--

"What does home look like to you?"

"Ah.. Man, that's a tricky one.. Home used to look like my mom and dad dancing in the moonlight, but now.. Home looks bright and dull, soft and hard, firm and smooth. Home looks like my family now, I know that they're there for me. Home is knowing I'm alright with them. Home is knowing they're safe."

--Jay--

"What does home look like to you?"

"Simple answer: The ocean. Long answer: The beach with a metal detector on a slightly windy day. Hearing the waves, feeling the warmth.."

"Mr. Walker?"

"Home is my yang.. And will forever be my yang.."

--Kai--

"What does home look like to you?"

"... Laying it on thick, huh? Hah! Well, uh.."

"It's a simple question-"

"I know, I know.. Home doesn't look like anything. Home is multiple sounds at once. Home feels like so many things. Home looks like nothing, I can't imagine what 'home' looks like to me, because home isn't one set thing.. Home feels safe."

--Nya--

"What does home look like to you?"

"Like a messy workshop. Coffee cups, blueprints, gizmos and gadgets- All of it, a mess. That's home, plain and simple."

--Lloyd--

"What does home look like to you?"

"Home..? Home looks.. Welcoming. Home looks like a field, with dragons and family. No danger, no need for a fight or flight, it looks.. Settled."

[therosebunpost]

Fruity Domino Belt

Steve isn’t very artistic, but maybe that didn’t matter.

CW: An absolutely heinous pizza combo, and Steve being self deprecating about his art skills. Reader is often referred to with Fem pronouns and is called Bunny as a nickname. Her style is very distinctive, but other then that, she is written as inclusive as possible!

————

The next Saturday, Steve is over at the Munson trailer. A six pack in one hand, and a notepad in the other. It took him a while to come up with something he could make, something useful, but then he remembered your notepads. He's been able to communicate verbally just fine, but with his hearing going down the drain by the year and his migraines making it hard to think, let alone talk, he figured he might as well.

You open Eddie's door with a flourish. Your eyes were big, and shiny while pulling him inside where Eddie was already stretched out in the living room. He's got a tiny figurine in one hand and the world's smallest paint brush in the other.

"Geeze, Munson. Careful or else you'll start wearing glasses like me." Steve snarks to avoid focusing too much on the furrowed brow of concentration on Eddie's face. The delicate way he paints the tiny shield of the figurine. Something Steve hadn't thought Eddie could do.

"Look who finally showed up, and with beer! You're worming right into my heart here, Harrington." Eddie jokes, reaching over to grab a can before taking a guzzling sip. You have Steve sit in the middle of you and Eddie, so he's boxed in, not that he minds all that much. Sure, the floor wasn't all that comfortable, but he was too distracted by the two of you to care.

You have your project spread out before you. You had paint at the ready, the beads and dominos carefully laid out as well. There’s some wire and some other tools that he didn’t know the name of.

“So…your making a..?” Steve trails off, knowing that Eddie told him but forgetting all the while. Even before everything, he had a hard time remembering things, but now a days he found himself forgetting more then usual.

You didn’t seem to mind, though. ‘A fruit belt! Its based off my favorite fruits.’ He admired the doodle you made. “It’s cute.” He admits, wondering if he’ll ever see you wearing it. “Though…how are you gonna get it to go through the loops of your pants..?” He asked, eyeing the tiny metal eyelets dubiously.

Shaking your head, you flip to the next page. He watches the way the little puffball on your pen sways with the vigor of your writing. You probably had great essays, he thinks.

‘I have a lot of baggy shirts, and I thought this would cinch them in a bit. Plus, the idea is just cool!’

He nods, not really having any reason to disagree even if it wasn’t how he normally wore a belt. Though, fashion in general didn’t really make much sense to him. Most of his fashion advice just came from what his parents wanted, or what girls said he looked nice in.

A tap on the shoulder startles Steve. The former jock whirling around to look at Eddie, who jumps as well. “Shit! Hey, I just…did you hear me? Just now?” He asked, brows lifting as Steve stares at him blankly.

“I just…what did you bring to work on?” Eddie pointed out Steve’s little pad of paper. Steve hesitated, lightly drumming his fingers on the cardboard cover.

"...I..thought I could…color this. And stuff." He taps at the book. "I've been um, forgetting things a lot. Having a hard time…hearing." It felt weird to admit this to the couple, but then again, he might as well be truthful.

You perked up, scooping up your book and making a vague gesture towards his. You were smiling, and Steve's face was burning as you put two and two together.

"Yeah, it seemed to be really helping you, so…" He shrugged and Eddie's lips turned up into a slow smile. "Cool. What are you gonna paint on it?"

Steve paused, now faced uncertainty. "I…didn't get that far. This stuff isn't really my…wheelhouse?" He gazed at the cover, his artistic career over before it even began. Though it seems you weren't ready for that yet.

'well, what do you like?' You ask, turning towards him with raised eyebrows. 'that's what inspires me, along with my outfits or an accessory.'

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. He knew the answer, but was mindful of the company he was keeping right now. Eddie, 'throwing balls into laundry baskets' Munson was right next to him. But Eddie was eyeing him curiously, and you looked so eager to hear the answer…

“Maybe…some baseball, or basketball?” Steve admitted, ignoring the faint fizzle of disappointment when Eddie scoffed. You leaned over, shoving Eddie on the shoulder, much to the metalhead’s protest. You gave your boyfriend a glare, hands on your hips.

“Fine, fine, christ. What were you thinking exactly? Like, a hoop? Or a bunch of balls?” Eddie asked, gesturing with his hand while trying his best to not roll his eyes again. Steve shrugged, tapping at the cover. “Was thinking about a bat actually. Or maybe something water related?”

‘I think either of those sound really cool. I have stencils in case you wanna add one of the balls to it?’ You hand over the floppy plastic, and Steve chalked it up to the light but he was sure your cheeks tinged pink when your hands brushed his. You also handed him rulers, pens, and paint.

Vaguely he remembers going over colors in art class. Red and blue make purple, red and yellow make orange, blue and yellow make green. He looks at the paint in both your pallets, the colors swirled and mixed into a rainbow of shades and hues. He starts with blue first. His glob of paint was a bit too big, and it only got worse when he tried adding white to make it lighter.

Shifting to look between you two, his puddle of blue doesn’t seem to phase either of you, so he just starts painting. He loads his brush with tons of paint, slathering the front of his notebook with it until the entire thing was covered and oh no, why was it bending, shit, yours didn’t bend like this-

“Uh, you want me to grab a hair dryer? That’s gonna take years to dry otherwise.” Eddie cuts in, eyeing the globs of blue on the paint. The paint wasn’t even fully mixed, so streaks of white marbled the over saturated cardboard. It was kind of pretty, but not what Steve had planned. “Uh, sure, yeah. Thanks.”

Shifting in his spot, Steve stared at the mess with a sinking feeling. Honestly, he knew it probably wasn’t going to look great. Art really wasn’t his thing. He liked it, but he didn’t usually stare at a painting and feel some sort of desire to do the same thing. Usually it was just him trying to find the ‘meaning’ that Robin told him about. What meaning was there to find in a bowl of fruit other than pretty colors? The guy was probably hungry when painting it, maybe?

He felt a tap to his shoulder, his head shifting over to look at you. At the paintbrush in your hands. Your notebook is laid there, the length of your previous conversation with him growing and growing.

‘Paint goes a long way! Though trust me, I’ve also had that happen a ton of times. While you wait for it to dry, do you wanna paint some dominos with me? I have the paint mixed already. :)’

“Oh, yeah.”

Picking up the brush once again, Steve eyed the way you scooped up the paint. A much smaller blob then his previous one, and smoothed it over the ivory plastic. He follows your lead, frowning slightly as it doesnt come out as smooth as yours. Little bumps and lines of paint that looked similar to his old elementary projects. Still, it was kind of nice. Watching the color cover the once blank canvas. “How do you get yours so smooth?” He muttered, looking between your pieces.

You reach for your pad, pause at the paint on your fingers, before shaking your head and turning towards him fully. Gesturing with your hand for him to watch how you do it. He turns, shifting a bit as his knee bumps into yours. You grab another domino, your paintbrush dipping and grabbing a frankly minuscule amount of paint in his opinion. You slide the brush across the domino, and it makes those same bumpy ridges that were annoying him before. You smooth it out with your brush, laying it out with the others before grabbing yet another domino.

This time you scrape the sides of the brush, and the paint glides on smoothly this time, like it was dyed instead of painted. You smile and show him again, and again until you encourage him to pick up his brush and try it out. Honestly, he could understand the appeal once he managed to get that smooth stroke down. Kind of like when he really perfected his baseball swing to get that strong, nearly effortless looking glide.

You reacted a lot nicer than his coaches, though. Beaming at him, and nodding in praise as he kept painting. It wasn’t perfect and there were moments where the paint still beaded up or looked patchy, but you were proud of him. That counted for something. You didn’t remark on how he should have picked it up faster, or how this was easy shit and everybody else could have done it. Didn’t say he was stupid, or dumb. It was nice, really nice. Still, it’s not long before he remembers you’re going to be wearing this, whatever it came to be.

“Hey, if you uh…need to re-do any of mine, it’s fine, Y’know? I get it.” He murmurs after a few dominos. “They’re kinda patchy. Don’t look as good as yours.” And after all, it really was fine. He couldn’t blame you for it. You were probably just trying to give him something to do after he basically fucked up his notepad. There was no way that was going to dry with that much paint on it, he realizes that now. Now he was going to have to go home with it, probably ruined.

There was a moment where you looked between the two growing piles before shaking your head. ‘They look good, Steve. Once they dry, do you want to help me put on a second coat? I need to do the same for mine. Usually these need a few coats before they really look good.’

He glances at your work, and doesn’t really see what you mean, but hey, he kind of liked this painting thing. Might as well keep it going, even if he sucked. “Sure.”

Eddie finally came back with the dryer in hand. It’s an old, clunky thing that rattles when the metalhead moves. The plastic coating that protects the wire is worn in a few spots, but it roars to life when Eddie plugs it in. “Let’s leave it in the kitchen, yeah?” He offers, scooping up the gloopy book carefully. “While m’ in here, you hungry?? Could order pizza? What’ya say baby?” He calls, turning the dryer on before popping his head out to look at you.

Steve ignores the faint heat on his face at the thought of Eddie talking to him, like that. To the both of you really. Being his baby, your baby.

“Hey, Steve?”

Blinking, Steve snapped his head up. You both were staring at him, expectantly. He blinks again and Eddie makes a snorting noise. “Are you hungry, man? What do you like on your pizza?”

“Oh! Uh, anything. Whatever you guys want, don’t really care.”

"Anchovies with pineapple and mustard it is!"

Steve retched before he could stop himself. "What?"

"What, you said whatever we wanted? Felt like getting our special, right baby?" He grins over at you, and despite your wrinkling nose you nod with a smile. Though Steve rolled his eyes.

"There is no fucking way you actually eat that." Steve deadpanned, stabbing towards him with the end of his paint brush. "Hell, ten bucks says you'll both puke."

"You're on!"

You sit up in your seat, suddenly a lot less amused. You hold your finger up to Steve, indicating you needed a minute before hurrying after your boyfriend. Steve can't help the smile crossing his lips as he hears Eddie laughing and apologizing in the kitchen. Not even trying to hide it.

"I was just calling his bluff Bun, I'll eat it, okay?"

Eddie's voice dipped softer to where Steve couldn't hear him anymore. He hesitated before slowly leaning over to peer at the couple.

Eddie has his hands cupped over your cheeks, thumbs brushing the soft skin. He has such a soft smile, and his eyes are like liquid chocolate when it comes to looking at you. You're brushing his hair away from his face, caressing his temple, adorable pout still on your face even with the tender gesture.

God, Steve didn't know who he wanted to be more at that moment. Get to feel your sweet touch, or to feel Eddie's? Or maybe he could get both, be boxed in between you two again.

Steve startles when Eddie catches his eye. There's a glint in his and Steve leans back with a panicked grunt. Oh fuck, he hadn't gotten caught as of yet, and he wasn't sure what would happen if they did. Could he handle it?

"Alright, pizza's ordered Steve!" Eddie called from the kitchen, leaving the jock to let out a sigh.

-

Three pizza's ended up coming to the munson trailer. The anchovy and pineapple was at the top, looking just as gross. Eddie made a point to squeeze the mustard upon it artfully, a gleeful grin on his lips upon seeing Steve's mouth turn down in displeasure.

"Don't worry, we got some others too, in case you truly don't want this masterpiece." Eddie teases, nodding towards the boxes. You were already digging into one of the boxes, a gleeful smile on your face. Steve settles on the third box, pepperoni and cheese.

"Okay, I'm changing the bet, twenty five bucks says you won't make it through the first slice." Steve shoots back, narrowing his eyes.

"Seventy five, and I'll eat half in one sitting."

"A hundred if you eat that whole thing."

Eddie's eyes widened for a moment before he let out a small scoff before offering a hand. "Deal, hope you got that sweet dough in the pocket of those tight jeans of yours."

Feeling heat crawling up his neck, Steve reaches out and clasps Eddie's hand. "Don't worry about that, man. Just focus on that shit you call pizza."

The doorbell rings a second time, and Robin steps in with a rush of apologies. “I’m so sorry, I got side tracked, and I didn’t know what to bring- Oh my god what is that-“

While you’re explaining to Robin the unfortunate bet, Steve offers a wave before going back to painting. Slowly dragging the color across until it was smoothly covered. He watched the way Eddie gobbled at his pizza, suppressing his laugh the entire time.

Robin soon plopped down across from him, and maybe you were just as opportunistic as Eddie, because you also eagerly suggested she help paint the dominos. “Sure! Though, it probably won’t end up good. Whenever I paint, I either use too much paint or too little and it looks patchy..”

“I can help, here.”

Steve wasn’t sure why he offered, but soon ended up showing her the technique you had. Robin caught on pretty quick, which he expected, and soon it was a small circle of painting.

“Didn’t know you painted, Dingus.” Robin comments with a smile, gently nudging him and Steve shrugs. “Not really, had a good teacher.” He turns to look over at you, and he adores the bashful look on your face. He could absolutely get used to seeing it more often.

——-

-

Taglist: @ali-r3n (DM if you wanna be added!)

[torgawl]

“if i were to choose between eating a cryo slime alive or joining the fatui, id prefer to be crushed to death by a meteorite” is still the best diluc quote

[huellitaa]

to everyone i've ever hurt, im sorry. to everyone i've ever came across as clingy or attention seeking or rude or selfish or anything like that, i'm sorry. i feel so much its hard to manage and i genuinely mean every word i say, even when i slip up or make mistakes. im trying so hard to be better and im trying my best.

and to everyone who's ever hurt me, i forgive you, but still fuck you loser‼️🩷ur loss bae

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

But were they wrong? No. No they weren’t.

Villain au!! Todays wheel spin, I decided to do more than just a doodle. Because it’s been a while, and I thought it would be nice to have a follow up from this post (won’t let me link it rn will have to do that in the morning auh)

Aka, the “two more days” from the other post had passed and their plan had taken place relatively smoothly. If you can call that massacre smooth-

Warning: flashing imagery and glitching in the gif, under the cut.

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Hhh I wish it would let me post the better quality version but it is too big- oh well- here you go!

Who do you think snapped first? :)

[nekomacheercaptain]

Me after writing about plus-sized women with saggy tits: perfect

[just-a-creep-babe]

Bout time Jeff got something

Was literally rootin for Ej too 🤣

Y'know when the story said ej wasnt gonna do much else cause jeff passed out from one punch, I was like "no, its okay, you can still beat up an unconscious person", like-

Damn you really makin us hate Jeff with this fic fr

Jeff is a wretched little man & I LOVE him for that

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

everytime i see my old meta posts im so freaked out like wtf is wrong with me why am i yelling at nobody about a fictional character

[meownotgood]

my assumption is that the love languages u prefer are acts of service and touch :3

yes... I think so too... I think words of affirmation would be my main love language but a lot of touch and acts of service too

[mekanikaltrifle]

top 10 Den Haag Chronicle transcription moments number 10: this shit

[catwingsathena]

I just unintentionally went off my Strattera (non-stimulant ADHD med) for nine days and I can now say with confidence that I do in fact have ADHD, because holy crap never again.