#i can't center things i tried it failed

[artificer-dice]

Guys I messed up 😅

One of the number one rules with working with silicone and molds and resin in a pressure pot is you don't seal in a pocket of air.

Guess what I accidentally did in the stupidest way possible 😅 on the cute d6s I was super excited about too!

I was able to remove them by hacking at the bumps with some wire cutters until they lost adhesion with the face (which I realize is something I need to fix in the process) and I was able to peel them off, which took the paint with it but it should be easy to fix now.

They have hearts for the 6 faces and I love them so I'm going to fix them but it's a learning moment I didn't necessarily want to have today but at least it was salvageable!

[inkskinned]

for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

[teddybeartoji]

彡 HE JUST WANTS TO HELP OUT HIS GF AND HIS BEST FRIEND!

☆. contains: 18+ minors dni, boyfriend!satoru gojo x fem!reader; geto suguru makes an appearance? more like is mentioned, fingering (fem receiving), petnames, satoru being a little shit, suguru being a perv lol, thoughts of a threesome wc: 1k

bf!gojo, who's knuckles deep in your wet warm cunt and who keeps mouthing at your neck. he's been at it for some time now and you feel hot all over. one of your hands is playing with your tits while the other rests in gojo's hair. your eyes are rolled so far back into your head, you barely register the sound of keys and the apartment door opening.

"wait.. s-satoru..." you mewl out.

"mmm what is it, kitty?"

the room is filled with your short pants, whimpers and the wet sounds of your pussy. your neck is covered with his spit and new deep purple marks keep showing up. his fingers keep moving in and out of you at a steady pace and you can't seem to think straight anymore.

"g-geto.. i-is home." you clasp onto his wrist and try to push it away from your center but fail miserably. his pace doesn't falter. next you try to close your thighs but that doesn't work either. his mouth on your neck is sending warm flashes over your body. thirdly you try to move your head away from his lips but you guessed it, it doesn't work. he pulls you back to him in an instant and keeps his arm around you.

"i locked the door, baby. and he's usually wearing his headphones anyway." he mumbles into your neck. his lips move to your jaw and to your sweet spot right under your ear. "he won't hear anything if you're quiet, pretty" even though you can't see his face, you just know he's sporting another one of his pretty boy smiles.

you can only nod at that. he, though, can clearly see the shadow under his doorframe, making it obvious that roommate can indeed hear you.

gojo has seen the way geto sometimes looks at you. when your skirt happens to hike up or when you're trying to reach something and your shirt rises up. he always tries to avert his gaze as quickly as possible but you're just so.. intoxicating and he can't help but wonder what you'd taste like. but gojo also knows that geto would never even try anything. he's a good friend.

gojo also knows that you think that geto's good-looking. before the two of you got together, you happened to mention it during a game of truth or dare. but again, gojo knows he's the one you love and he trusts you completely.

putting those two facts together, he gets a scenario he has thought about too many times. the only person in the world he would even consider to share you with is geto suguru. and he keeps thinking about how good it would feel for you, his pretty girl. two people giving you their undivided attention. you deserve it.

he moves to press a kiss to the side of your mouth as he watches your face twist in utter pleassure. your warm walls feel so good around his fingers and the cute sounds you keep letting out might make him cum in his pants.

you're trying your hardest to keep the noises down. but you feel the orgasm approaching and he's just so close and his smell is exhilarating and it's all so much and now you're thinking about the fact that your boyfriend's (hot) roommate might hear you. and no matter how much you'd like to tell yourself that you're not into that, you simply can't. and you can't deny that you haven't thought about it. maybe he'd like to watch you get fucked into the mattress by his best friend. maybe he'd even like to join but you're too shy to ask for it. scared to upset gojo, not knowing that he himself keeps thinking about the same thing.

you finally collect enough of your braincells to ask: "a-are you sure he w-won't hear?" you don't even think to look towards the door. hard to look at anything, when your eyes are in the back of your head.

gojo's eyes move from you to the door and the shadow is still there. he smiles to himself. he looks back down at you and once again places his mouth on your jaw. the pace of his fingers in your cunt never slowing.

"no, darling." he cheriches the way you're writhing in his arms. he lives to please you. he's getting off on your pleasure. "would that be so bad, though, hm?"

"w-what?" for the first time in minutes, you try to open your eyes and look at him. his lips are swollen and his eyes are low. you spot the purple marks under his crewneck and pride blooms in your chest.

he presses his mouth to yours and licks at your lips. "don't you want him to hear you?" he whispers into your mouth. and his question makes your head spin. when you try to pull back, he lowers himself more onto you and keeps your lips locked. he curles his fingers in you and you in turn whimper into his mouth.

"i think you do want him to hear you, sweets." he places another kiss on your lips. he presses a kiss right under your eye, then to your cheek. "you're wetter than usual." he smiles to himself when he feels you clench down on his fingers.

with the shake of your head you get out a meek: "n-no." but now you really can't stop thinking about geto. is he listening? you try to crane your neck to get a glimpse of the door but gojo's body is blocking the view. he's everywhere. his lips travel down to your chest, leaving a wet stain trail along the way. your eyes close once more and you succumb to the pleasure.

he nips at your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth. he glances up at you just in time to see your pretty lips form the perfect 'o' shape and you let out a loud moan, which at this point you don't even try to conceal. he then takes a brief look at the door and he's met with the sight of the shadow moving. he can make out the small repetitive movement from under the doorframe and he knows his best friend is standing behind his door and jerking off to the sounds of his girlfriend, to the sounds of you. and he's never felt prouder.

[mistydeyes]

Hi,if you’re not busy can you write a fic of Cod characters with a cia agent gf ?

yes ofc! yk i love a good little government agent gf moment :)

a double life

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: From hidden occupations to a particular set of skill sets, the 141 learns to adapt to having a girlfriend who has all the right qualifications (and who could completely kick their ass).

pairing: Task Force 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons/violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price

"Sorry I can't be there to meet you, Price," Laswell spoke over the web camera feed, "got tied up in South America." Price nodded as he held the bridge of his nose, Laswell had promised her best field agent to act as a point person for their mission in New Zealand. However, just the thought of some middle-aged retired veteran or worse yet, hot-shot rookie, made his headache pound even further. "She's a good one, Price," Laswell reassured, "skilled in practically every major language and the best marks in her physical fitness examination." "Yes Kate, I read her file, but it seems like you failed to include a photo-" He was interrupted by a sturdy knock at the door. "Looks like she's here."

As you cracked the door open, you practically dropped the files that sat in your arms. "What are you doing here?" Price asked jovially and you could feel the breath release from your sternum, "didn't expect an on-base visit like this." As the pieces began to fit together, you realized he didn't know what you were actually there for. "John, Kate sent me here," you whispered as you shut the door gently, "heard you're going to New Zealand." As the realization hit him like an oncoming train, you braced for impact. "You-you work for the CIA?" he asked almost foolishly and you nodded in response. "I did say I worked in Virginia," you corrected, "and you had to know my surprise visit yesterday wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing." Price could feel his headache reach a fever pitch as he reviewed your file again. "Then what's with the name?" he asked, "you lie about that too." You let out a laugh as you explained, "People have nicknames and mother's maiden names, John." As you sat back in your chair and crossed your legs, Price wondered what he had done for the universe to gift him you.

soap

Despite your initial reservations, Johnny was quite good at keeping your occupation vague and nonchalant in conversation. You were honest about your work in central intelligence and he took that secret to the grave. Your long-distance relationship was written off as you working in some company in DC and no one batted an eye at your occasional inference at military strategy or surveillance techniques. When you returned home, you would always be sure to show him extra appreciation for his covertness. "Tryna make me patriotic?" he would joke before you would kiss him and stifle his laughs.

However, he loved testing your skill set and seeing if you were as trained of an operative as your file read. "Let's see what they teach you over there, Bonnie," he joked as he lined up his sights at the air gun range. You refrained from kicking him as you stood back to watch him. You almost let out a laugh when you saw his small pellet ricochet just slightly off target. "Hmm and that's why Ghost is your long-range weapons specialist," you teased as he got up and switched positions. You breathed in as you looked down your sights and positioned your rifle towards the farthest target on the range. "You Americans, always so fucking cocky," he muttered under his breath before you quickly shut him up with a quick shot directly into the center of the target. The metal hen spun around widely at your expert marksmanship and you exhaled your held breath. You stood up and tried to size up your tall boyfriend. "Best 2/3?" you offered and you smiled as he kissed your forehead before ushering you out of the way to try again. "Fucking CIA training," he whispered as he got into position again. "You say something, you glorified sergeant?"

gaz

It was 4 am when you arose from the bed and leaned into Kyle, taking in his warmth and seeking refuge from the cold London air. You could always rely on your boyfriend to be your human-sized space heater. As you laid your head across his chest, you could feel him stir lightly. "Time to go already, love?" he asked with his eyes still closed and you muttered in confirmation. You always knew what challenges came with living so far away from the States but you had someone who made it all worth it. He kissed your forehead lightly as you rolled off the bed. You tried to quietly make your way to the bathroom to let him get some more hours of precious sleep but upon your return, it was clear Kyle was more awake than before.

"You sure you don't need me to drive you to the airport?" he offered yet again as you dressed quickly in dress slacks and a blouse. "MI6 is sending a car," you explained as you collected your overnight bag, "just try to get some sleep, my love. I'll text you when I land in Langley." Despite your soft kiss on the cheek, Kyle still pouted as you pulled away. "Don't understand why you can't be a liaison officer for us," he mumbled but you ruffled his hair slightly. "When the position becomes available, I'll be the first application on there," you smiled, doing a final check of your things, "just tell Price to write me a hell of a recommendation letter." With that, you shared another long kiss as you slightly cringed at his morning breath. "I'll be sure to say hi to the cybercrime analysis team for you, hopefully, they'll actually take my advice this time," you laughed before exiting out of your apartment and embracing the cold English air you had grown to love.

ghost

When the question arose of your occupation, you would always smile and defer to being just an "American government worker." However, you always knew Simon had more than just an inkling as to your occupation. When you spoke about military strategy, and combat techniques, or even had various conversations in different languages over the phone, it was clear to him that you were more than just a civilian. The shock didn't even resonate with him when you uttered the words, "Paramilitary Operations Officer," it all seemed to fall into place. He wouldn't bat an eye when it came to long stretches of days that you were in minimal contact with him. "I'll be back," you would reassure as you pulled on a dark hoodie and headed out the door with a bag. Simon would always be there to clean your wounds and ice your bruises.

It was a shock when Simon hadn't heard from you in a month. You had left in the middle of the day in a black Mercedes that disappeared off the English skyline. It was the unfortunate timing that he had been on leave when you left and there had been no word from Price regarding a new mission. Every morning, he would turn over in your king-sized bed expecting to see you smiling back at him. However, the days dragged on without any information meeting his ears. You could practically still picture his terrified face when you turned the key into the door and slammed your bag down. Simon paused upon seeing your blackened eye and wrapped knuckles. The eye bags on your delicate face further added worry to the situation. "Don't ask," you whispered as you fell into his chest, "intel was shit." That was all Simon needed to lift you gently and place you back on the couch. As he held you in his arms with an ice pack to your eye, you slightly pulled away from his touch. "I promised I would come back, didn't I?"

[yandere--stuck]

Imagine confessing to Joker that, sometimes, you do feel a bit crazy. He'd been wheedling it out of you for hours now, continuously and obviously guiding you to the idea that there had to be something special about you to catch his eye. Something about you that stuck out like a sore thumb, and not just to him. Something innate about you that drew him toward you.

“There has to be something, my dear,” Joker had said. “I don't exactly attract the most normal company.”

You tried noncommittal answers at first. Really, the only person who'd know why he'd fallen for you (so he claimed) would be him. And hadn't he claimed to know everything about you already? God only knew how he'd gotten your information, but it didn't surprise you considering the man holding you captive. Even still, The Joker kept pestering you for your thoughts. Your mind was just so fascinating to him. 

So, you relented, even if just to appease him. You watched his grin widen, and the smile reached his eyes as they crinkled in delight. The clown hanging onto every word. 

Sometimes, you did feel crazy. Like the world didn't really make sense. Everyone else had a set of instructions on how to navigate the world that you never got. How did everybody else know how to start a conversation without a shock of anxiety washing over them? How did others have the ability to get up out of bed when you couldn't find the strength to? How did anybody find consistent meaning and purpose in their lives.

Even when you tried to pretend to be like them, it fell apart so quickly. It was so hard to keep on top of things. So hard to stay organized and stable and motivated. And you were so aware of the act you were putting on. So was everybody else, you were sure of it. You were sure they could tell, as if they thought of you as something not quite human and just something pretending to be. Something to tolerate until it crawled back to where it came from, another failed attempt to infiltrate their ranks.

You didn't even know what made you stand out to The Joker of all people - especially for anything outside of a murder attempt. You purposefully tried not to stand out. It made it harder to detect how different you were so long as you kept your emotions and thoughts close to your chest. No chance for embarrassment if no one ever got close enough to embarrass you again. 

Joker raised a hand to stop you, resting his hand on your shoulder. The green of his eyes held surprising softness before flashing with mischief.

“How about we give those fools something to really be scared of?” The Clown flashed a grin, raising a small contraption in his hands.

“What the Hell is that?” You blurted out.

The metal thing was the same size and shape of a small ball, painted an acidic green and electric purple. Wiring covered the thing, either wrapped around the outside or sprouting up like weeds from within. A small LED display screen was centered in the middle, left blank.

“A bomb,” Joker grinned. “I figured it'd be thematically appropriate.”

“Get that thing away from me!”

“Oh, come now, it's not even armed.”

As if to prove his point, Joker tossed the bomb aside, letting it roll across the floor. He paused for a ment, raising a hand to his chin in thought. Then, he seemed to light up, snapping his fingers. 

“Oh, of course, you'd want to deal with ‘em up close and personal!” Then, with a flourish, Joker pulled a gun from seemingly out of nowhere. He threw his head back as a chorus of laughter erupted from within. 

“Stop!” You spluttered, backing away. “I don't want to hurt anyone!”

Joker stayed put and simply blinked, brows furrowing. He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because- because you can't just hurt people! It's wrong.”

“No, it's what they told you is wrong,” The Clown's hands balled into fists. “They force you to play by their rules, then punish you for losing at a game you're not designed to win. They wear you down to the bone and know you won't fight back, so they get to walk all over you."

“That's not true.”

“Don't lie to yourself, Darling. I'm saying this all to help you. I want to help you finally fight back. Everything you've gone through has all been leading to this moment.”

“I can't,” You held your ground. “I won't.”

The Clown stared you down. His eyes held an emotion you couldn't quote register. He wasn't frowning exactly, but he certainly wasn't smiling.

You nearly jumped when Joker suddenly crossed the room. The sound of his footsteps mirrored the thundering of your own heartbeat. It muffled all thoughts as electric panic ripped through your veins and left you petrified in place. Not like you could escape, anyway.

You tried to calm your breathing, but hot, panting breaths kept escaping you, chest rising and falling erratically. You could hardly keep yourself composed enough to look him in the eye. And when you did, somehow it was worse than expected. The expression on his face and look in his eyes wasn't one of murderous intent. Not one of rage. Hell, he didn't even look disappointed.

No. His expression was one of pity.

He swept you into an embrace. One arm curled around your back, hand still holding his pistol. You could feel the cold of the metal pressing against the small of your back. Another hand came up to push your head closer to his chest. 

Joker lamented. “Oh, my poor little maniac. It's so sad to see what they've done to you. If only I had saved you sooner.”

You didn't respond, hoping the excuse of being smothered into his jacket would be enough for him to not demand a reply. You felt the slow rise of Joker's chest pressing against you, then sank back as he exhaled a sigh. A gloved hand petted at your head soothingly.

“You're just like Bats, you know,” he said. “These barriers you put up for yourselves are so small, but you give them so much power. And I just don't understand why.”

You paused, giving yourself time to think before mumbling into the fabric of his jacket, “Because it's the right thing to do.”

When you glanced up at him, the look of condescension on the Clown's face was nearly enough to forgo any ideas of self-preservation or pacifism. Nearly. The last thing you'd want to do is prove him right.

“They're never going to see you as normal, you know that, right?” He pressed. “You'll never really be one of them. Like a square peg trying to squeeze itself into a round hole. I don't see why you're so caught up in silly things like morality when it clearly hasn't helped you yet. It certainly doesn't seem like a concern for any of them.”

You didn't want to talk about this anymore. You didn't want to think anymore. You just wanted to find some cold comfort in the embrace of another. 

A pair of lips pressed against the crown of your head. You flinched in his hold, burying yourself further into his grasp. Maybe you could just disappear. 

“It's so sad to see you sabotage your own potential like this,” The Joker continued, voice taking on a lighter tone. “But it's okay. I'm here to take care of you. And I'll keep taking care of you until you can become who you were always meant to be. Because I love you, I really do.”

Yeah, right.

Still, you wished he made it harder to believe otherwise.

[bnuuygrils]

47news interview with Tamifull

Earlier this month Tamifull, the author of Tsukiatte agetemo ii kana? AKA How Do We Relationship?, did an interview with 47news. I've translated the full text below:

Out of the innumerable manga published every year, there are always a few titles that one simply can't afford to miss. Tamifull-sensei's How Do We Relationship? (Shogakukan) is one of these. It's a story of young love and heartbreak, centering on college students Inuzuka Miwa and Sawatari Saeko. Though fiction, it has a powerful sense of reality that leaves one feeling as if the real Miwa and Saeko might just be out there somewhere right now. If Agasawa Tea's Ramparts of Ice (Shueisha) is the pinnacle of high school romance, then How Do We Relationship? is the pinnacle of college romance. With the help of supervising editor Watanabe Saori-san, we were able to secure an interview with Tamifull-sensei to discuss the story--now on its 12th volume, and at the height of its climax.

The story so far:

Soon after starting college, mild-mannered beauty Inuzuka Miwa joins the light music club and finds herself the center of attention from the boys at the welcoming party. Miwa, who "only likes girls", is rescued from the situation by the energetic Saeko. Saeko, who "prefers women (to men)", buoyed by liquid courage, asks Miwa out on the spot and the two begin dating. But the two are clumsy and inexperienced with love, and fail to be fully honest with each other. By the end of the year, their romance has ended in disaster. After maintaining a sex-only relationship for some time they return to being friends and even move on to new partners... Finally, as their respective relationships have both ended, the two look at each other anew, not as lovers, but as exes, and as absolute allies.

47: How Do We Relationship? has a very unusual structure. Shoujo manga tend to portray a dramatic path to the start of the relationship, but Miwa and Saeko begin dating at the very start of volume 1 and break up in volume 4. As we're now on volume 12, they've actually been exes longer than they were together.

Tamifull: Well, it has stretched a little longer than I expected (laughs), but the story is proceeding as planned from the start. I think rather than starting decisively with some sort of "All right, I'm falling in love now!" moment, real love tends to build up out of small things over time. I didn't want the relationships in How Do We Relationship? to start in this exaggerated, romance story kind of way.

47: And that helps with its sense of reality.

Tamifull: I don't believe dating and breaking up are things that we need to think about in such dramatic terms. It's easy to feel like every relationship has to be perfect, or that you need to have some sort of fated encounter, or that breaking up is a bad thing, something hopeless. Why shouldn't there be manga that throws away those stereotypes? Life is so much longer than a single relationship. It keeps going after you start dating someone, or break up with them. I think that's a message that I've consistently tried to tell with this manga.

47: Can you tell us how it got to be serialized?

Tamifull: It started out as a oneshot I did for Comitia (a doujin festival and marketplace in Tokyo) in 2017. Up until then, I had mainly been drawing yuri--manga about relationships between girls. And I wanted to tell a little bit of a different story at that event. Doujinshi are generally about 20 pages, so usually you introduce the main couple, have them confess, and wrap it up right around there. So I thought, what if they're already in a relationship and we watch them break up? I was basically thinking, "why not draw what I want to read!?"

Watanabe: Ashima Yuki-san, one of the first freelance editors, reached out to Tamifull-san then.

47: At the time, yuri was considered a pretty small market. It felt like unless you got into one of the specialized publications you'd have a very hard time, right?

Tamifull: That's true. There are a lot more varied works coming out now. At the time most of these stories were actually aimed at men, so the relationships would stay platonic, or at most they might kiss. I knew stories like that were easier to market and less likely to ruffle feathers, but I found myself thinking, "If we all settle for that, we'll never get to see what happens next! If no one else is drawing it, why shouldn't I?"

47: What did Ashima-san say to you?

Tamifull: She told me, "I've been wanting to read a story where the characters and relationship feel free like this". I do remember thinking it might be more marketable without the eroticism when I was developing it for serialization (laughs). But I ended up just being like, well, let's see what happens!

47: "Realistic" LGBTQ romance stories tend to end up falling into a handful of patterns. Whether it's manga or movies, you see a lot of stories that feel like "the tragedy of same-sex love", or that seem intended to make you feel sorry for the characters. Like the audience is meant to walk away thinking, "How thought-provoking! I really learned something". But How Do We Relationship? is pretty different, isn't it?

Tamifull: Rather than being "yuri" or being viewed as an "LGBTQ story", I want people to get into the story just because they see it and go "Hey, there's girls dating in here!". Sexual minorities aren't here to be instructional materials for anyone. LGBTQ people live in the same world as everyone else. I want the characters to seem like people you might meet anywhere, and to have relationships you might see anywhere. I want the fact that the relationship isn't heterosexual to just be a detail. That's why Watanabe-san and I decided not to advertise How Do We Relationship? specifically as a yuri manga.

47: Achieving that sense of reality must take a lot of care. I imagine you have to be careful to avoid the set phrases and compositions that readers see all the time in romance manga.

Tamifull: That's true. For example, in the scene where Saeko opens up to Mikkun, their male friend, about her dating Miwa, she asks him if he finds the two of them dating "gross, or wrong, or unnatural", and Mikkun, while looking away, asks in return, "What? Do I have to feel that way about you?". The orthodox move would be to have the handsome guy character looking straight out of the page, smoothly delivering some cool line. But in real life we don't have convenient handsome guys just lying around, and you're not usually looking people straight in the eye. It's not that staged. I think the casual nature of the lines, and the casual nature of the situation, actually make it all the more resonant. I want to keep that natural feeling to the story, and I go out of my way to avoid making it feel "romantic". I think my ideal is for it to feel like a movie.

47: A movie?

Tamifull: That's right. I think one of the strengths of film is the ability to show the drama of everyday life. I always include backgrounds in my panels to try to get closer to that feeling. For instance, in a scene in volume 12, Saeko is on a boat at night looking out over the water with her girlfriend, Yuria. They're talking about breaking up. It's a very romantic setting, but the painful nature of their conversation blots out everything except for the blackness of the water. I want readers to feel like they're there experiencing it alongside the characters.

47: I see. The city you see at night while breaking up with someone certainly does feel different...

Watanabe: And Tamifull-sensei's art has really helped deliver that sense of reality to readers. There are no wasted panels: from the camera placement to how the viewer's eye is led, even the placement of the dialogue, everything serves to guide the reader to what she's showing. Due to my job I read a lot of manga, but there are very few manga artists as skilled as her.

47: Personally, as a reader, it's that sense of reality that has me praying for Saeko and Miwa to end up happy, so next I'd like to ask a little about about how you learned to imbue your writing with such reality, and what techniques you use.

Tamifull: I'll do my best (laughs).

47: First, the depth and internality of your characters. For instance, after breaking up with Saeko, Miwa dates the younger Tamaki. Tamaki is reserved and very low-energy. She's clearly at a loss with the more sexually-motivated Miwa, but nonetheless does her best to reciprocate in her own way. She's straightforward and can be a little childish, but has an intellectual side to her, as well. Accurately portraying such a complex, difficult character must necessitate having an incredibly keen eye for people. How did you learn to understand other people so well?

Tamifull: I think it was mostly my experience in school. In primary and middle school I was low on the pecking order, so I became very sensitive to other people's hostility.

47: Ah, the pecking order... That does happen, doesn't it.

Tamifull: Yes. I'd be in a group of maybe 5 or 6 friends in a class and then once every few months I'd get the silent treatment and end up being ostracized from the group, in this sort of rotation. I'd go through 2 or 3 groups and it would always happen. I think all the time I spent thinking about how to avoid being targeted like that played a big part.

47: Planning out the battle to make it out alive, so to speak.

Tamifull: I think that really helped cultivate my eye (laughs). Like, this girl's the ringleader, and these ones are joining in because they don't want to become the target themselves, but this other girl is actually nice so even when they're ganging up on me she won't join in.

47: I see. Even while you were being mistreated, you were trying to understand things from their perspective. Certainly How Do We Relationship? doesn't have any one character that you would really call a villain.

Tamifull: That's right. Take Kan, who tells Miwa "I hate you" in volume 2, or Tamaki's friend Nagi who calls her "gross" in volume 8. I think it would be too convenient if nobody was ever mean or unpleasant, so it's important to have such characters. But I also try to portray them as having their own reasons. It's not like everyone will be good to each other all the time, but for each person, there's a community out there somewhere that will accept them as themselves. I'm always including that idea, that wish, almost, as I write the various members of the music club.

47: The story has this warmth to it you can really feel, and I think that idea has a lot to do with it. That said, it sounds like you weren't always successful at avoiding bullying. That must have been difficult.

Tamifull: I spent a lot of time wrapped in my futon wondering, why do they treat me like that? As the days went by I'd end up sublimating my anger and frustration by telling myself, "They have their own problems so there's nothing I can do about it." Like, this girl might have a lot of stress at home, about her grades or other things, so she just feels too much pressure and gets pushed into bullying, or things like that. I really got in the habit of thinking about things from their perspective.

47: You are an incredibly kind person. I do think the eye you cultivated that way serves you well in writing characters. For example, in volume 3, we meet Miwa's first crush, Shiho. At home, we see Shiho being horribly mistreated by her parents, who only care for her more academically-minded younger sister, Maho. One day Maho snaps at her, saying "Don't talk back to me, moron! You know how much I have to carry thanks to your stupidity!?". But Shiho just accepts it, and keeps her unhappiness to herself. That's in volume 11, that we finally find out how Maho, who's caused Shiho so much pain, has been feeling.

Tamifull: Maho also feels a lot of pressure from their parents, and she's desperate not to fail. She's under a lot of stress from that. When they were younger, Shiho and Maho were actually very close--Maho loved her older sister--but as grades and examinations started to get involved that connection became twisted... I wasn't able to show all of this in the story, but I always think through these details before drawing.

47: That sort of thing does happen between siblings, doesn't it... Just remembering is a little painful.

Tamifull: But, as much as I analyze people like this, it's very difficult to put into words.

47: In what way?

Tamifull: If you say "Well, this person has this kind of background, so that's why they do these things" then everyone will be like, "And what do you know about them?". You'll end up hurting feelings. So I can't say it about real people, but with How Do We Relationship? I'm the author so I can draw whatever I want. When I hear readers talk about the "realism" I'm always like, "Really? You mean I actually did it?". I secretly get a little happy about it (laughs).

47: Did you always want to become a mangaka, growing up?

Tamifull: I did always like drawing. But when I was pretty young I read one of those "So you want to draw manga?" kind of books and I got very intimidated by all the different erasers and tones and things, and I sort of gave up (laughs). It wasn't until I'd completely retired from extracurriculars in college that I realized I didn't have enough to do and started drawing manga.

47: And then you became a mangaka as soon as you graduated?

Tamifull: Yes, that's right.

47: That's quite something. Not many people manage to do that, right?

Tamifull: The reason I started attending Comitia was because in college I finally learned that editors would be there. Up until then I was working with my childhood knowledge--I thought I had to submit my work to a company and then become an assistant before I could become an author myself. When I found out I was like, "Doujinshi will get me fans and even expose me to editors? What could be better!?". I had my heart set on it.

47: (laughs). What kinds of things were you inspired by when you were a child?

Tamifull: All the way through school I was into stuff that was a little different from whatever was in fashion. I liked watching slightly older anime on Kids' Station, for instance. Like, look at me! I'm not into the same stuff as everybody else! Aren't I cool? (laughs).

47: (laughs).

Tamifull: When everyone else was into Cardcaptor Sakura, I was watching Takahashi Rumiko-sensei's Ranma 1/2 and Maison Ikkoku. I remember when I read one of Ito Junji-sensei's works at a relative's house it left a big impression on me. When I was in college I bought the collector's edition of Tomie at Village Vanguard.

47: You grew up into a bit of an alt college student.

Tamifull: In college, going to Village Vanguard and fishing for manga nobody else had became something of a passion for me.

47: What about Takahashi Rumiko-sensei's work did you like in particular?

Tamifull: I especially liked the way she drew girls. In the early 2000s, when I was in primary school, it was very in fashion for girls to be drawn very slender and light, with delicate limbs.

47: Slenderness was certainly emphasized a lot back then, yes.

Tamifull: I preferred how Rumiko-sensei drew them--a little squishy. As far as the story goes, I loved the ending of Maison Ikkoku, how it portrays the characters moving forward in life. I read it over and over. I think that passion for people comes through a little in How Do We Relationship?.

47: In the afterword of volume 3, you mentioned that from middle school until about halfway through college you lost interest in manga, and were more into drama and music.

Tamifull: That's true. Sometimes I'd draw a buff Pikachu or something on the blackboard to try to get a laugh out of people, but that was about it.

47: A buff Pikachu? (laughs). I wish I could see it.

Tamifull: At co-ed schools I think girls mostly end up ranked by looks, but I went to an all-girls high school, so... It was really about who was the funniest.

47: So art was a way of giving yourself a gimmick.

Tamifull: That's right. That continued into college, so I always had the position of somebody who's just a little bit good at drawing. In college everyone was nice, though.

47: In that same afterword you mentioned that during the time you weren't drawing manga, you really enjoyed making things together with a group.

Tamifull: In high school I was in the school band, and we'd all put on plays together at school festivals. I joined the light music club in college. I did percussion in high school so I mostly played drums, or did vocals.

47: Oooh. What kinds of things did you play in the light music club?

Tamifull: Just normal rock. Popular stuff, like Go! Go! 7188.

47: I have an impression of you as being a little bit countercultural, so rock seems perfect for you (laughs).

Tamifull: In college I was also on the student festival committee, so I was doing double duty a little bit. And as much as I enjoyed making things with other people, I started to feel this hole open up, like inside I'd be thinking "I could do this so much better...". Then I started looking into manga again on a whim and realized everything had gone digital. You don't need to hire a bunch of assistants, and you can do tones with the press of a button. It was like this new environment where I could try my hand at manga by myself was prepared just in time as I came of age. I didn't have to hold myself back for anyone, and could do everything just how I wanted. That's why I've always worked alone.

47: What!? You don't have any assistants even now?

Tamifull: I don't.

47: Watanabe-san, is that normal?

Watanabe: It's extremely precious to us. She's really something, isn't she? I don't know how she puts out so much in just two weeks.

Tamifull: I want every angle and composition just so. I can't really express it well, so when I think about trying to explain it to someone else, I just feel like it would end up taking even more time... But then sometimes I'll be working from my storyboards and I'll be like, "Why did I make myself draw it like this!?" and end up suffering a little (laughs).

47: It's certainly a work that cuts no corners. The dialogue is always so well written and moving--do you start by writing the characters' lines?

Tamifull: Yes, I do. I'll write them all out at once, then adapt them to the storyboards as I go. I think all the time I spent agonizing in my futon when I was younger like "I should've said this..." or "And then they'd say that..." might also help here.

47: You always include afterword comics and omake in the tankoubon releases, so I get a sense that you're quite particular about manga books.

Tamifull: I love manga that includes a lot of little extras. And I want readers to enjoy How Do We Relationship? as much as possible, so I always go all out drawing them.

47: Your first announced works were around 2012, and in 2014 you made your commercial debut with Don't Call me a Goddess! in Bungeisha's 4-koma magazine Manga Time. The main character, Saotome-san, is a bit of a tryhard, and as much as that wins her respect from her peers, it also tends to alienate them. Into her life barrels the far less inhibited Ryou. After that, you had My Little Sister and the Sex Doll (Shueisha) serialized in Tonari no Young Jump, about an innocent and naive high school girl and a talking sex doll. Both manga were comedies.

Tamifull: How Do We Relationship? was a little bit of a break in genre, yes (laughs). My Little Sister and the Sex Doll also started as something I made as a change of pace for Comitia (laughs).

47: It's a very rhythmical work--the talking sex doll's lines are incredibly well crafted.

Tamifull: The editors at Young Jump really liked it. It was a little more crude than what I usually write, so I did have some doubts... but they were very kind in offering me the serialization. I had to exercise my vocabulary to the fullest.

47: As much as it made me laugh, I could also somehow feel your desire to break taboos coming through.

Tamifull: That's true. I was trying to make fun of dirty comics, while making a dirty comic (laughs). Even when there would be the setup for some sort of fanservice scene, with something sexual happening to the girl, I would always interrupt it with a joke and turn it into something decidedly not fanservice.

47: On the other hand, something about the relationship between Saotome-san and Ryou in Don't Call Me a Goddess! feels like it connects to Miwa and Saeko. Are you particularly fond of that sort of relationship?

Tamifull: Honestly, that was... completely unintentional. I think, when it comes to protagonists, I do like a character who is quiet, but unexpectedly stubborn... When I think about my time in school, I had a lot of experiences where there would be another girl, and she'd have this sense of separation, like a bit of a boundary around herself, but when I approached her she'd turn out to actually be really interesting. And I'd have this feeling of "Everyone else doesn't even know how cool she is!? I need to let everyone know!". I think that feeling, almost like wanting to become a producer for girls like that, has led me to write my protagonists that way.

47: You really love girls.

Tamifull: I may have spent long years in fierce battle with them at school, but when I translate it to manga they become strangely appealing. Even when they're a pain, their being a pain is good in of itself (laughs). It's true that characters who aren't straightforward can make a story more interesting, but I also think that's just how people are--you can't sum anyone up in a few words. Don't you agree?

47: Your manga, including How Do We Relationship?, really don't tend to have characters that you can sum up as "the cool one" or "the tsundere" or anything like that.

Tamifull: That's right. I don't want them to be symbols.

47: And that's exactly why, in each case--Saeko and Miwa, Miwa and Tamaki, Saeko and Yuria--when they break up, it's so emotionally impactful. You can't just point at one of them and say, "It's her fault."

Tamifull: Right. In reality, lots of people break up all the time without either one really being at fault. It makes me really happy to hear that people read the story as just being how things ended up for them. It's so easy to assume that when a relationship falls apart, it's because someone's in the wrong. I worked very hard to make sure that Tamaki and Yuria would be charming enough characters for readers to like them, and to accept it when I made them break up with Miwa and Saeko. I always look at readers' reactions and think carefully about how to proceed.

47: How Do We Relationship? really feels like you want to closely examine real, "normal" relationships.

Tamifull: I think it's a pity for the socially accepted image of love to be something so narrow. When two women date, and after breaking up return to being friends, I think people have a tendency to look a little askance at them. But why is that? I always find myself thinking, "Are you okay with living like that?". With How Do We Relationship?, I wanted to create a world where Miwa and Saeko and everyone else's desires wouldn't be crushed by those around them.

47: Especially during the first 3 volumes, you often shine the spotlight on the other characters around Miwa and Saeko. Is that also a part of fleshing out that view of the world?

Tamifull: Something like that. I don't want the idea of someone who likes the same sex to be something fantastical. I want to show that sexual minorities are all around--even around you. I want heterosexual readers to also get into the story, and I was very conscious of that early on in the serialization. I think whether you're gay or straight, you can still understand this story. These characters are just like you. That's the message I've tried to send.

47: It would be really wonderful if we could become a society where everyone views each other with respect. What would that take, I wonder?

Tamifull: Delusions, maybe.

47: Delusions? (laughs).

Tamifull: Yes (laughs). This is just my own experience, but when I meet someone and feel off-put by them, I always thoroughly imagine their background. By the time I'm finished whatever anger I felt has faded, and I feel ready to treat them better--maybe even to become close with them. And if you write stories you can come up with great material this way, so it's two birds with one stone (laughs).

[wonryllis]

ENHYPEN AS SONG KANG.

────𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅.

𓋜 hyung line as hot characters ㅤ. .ㅤ𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑡ㅤㅤ𓍼ㅤㅤ𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 & fluff suggestive+ ࣪  ㅤ˖ ㅤ𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑ㅤㅤ৲ lowercase intended ㅤ. ⠀𓈃 ๋ ㅤ𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

( yeonie.notes ) these are the only song kang characters i know quite a bit about so i wasn't able to include the maknae line srry. 585wc. gn!centered.

꒰⠀hee⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀seung.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as hwang sun-oh from love alarm . . . falls first and falls harder. the good guy turned toxic because he loves you too much. borderline obsessed with you sometimes. quite literally needs to have you in his sight for him to be calm. loves ringing your love alarm everytime he comes close to you but absolutely hates it when other guys ring it too. waits for you during lunch break to walk to the cafeteria together. loves watching you do the simplest things. pulls you to the blind spots around the premises every other day to make out and do other unholy things. in his world there is only you he can't and will not see any one else, boys and girls alike. rich guy takes the bus with you and for you only. does everything to show people you're his. baby, ring my alarm please?

꒰⠀jong⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀seong.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as lee chae-rok from navillera . . . the mysterious and distant guy who was actually a sugar coated sweet pie in disguise. helps you with everything he can. tells you if there's ever a problem then you just need to give him a call and he'll be there. always looks in the eyes even when he turns red everytime, he just finds you so beautiful, his love. consoles you by making you forget everything around but him. pauses his ballet practice whenever you show up and disappears with you into one of the rooms to take a break. all disheveled, panting and sweating as you cling together. loves how you show up to his competitions to cheer him on. always tries to make you smile. it hurts his heart to see you hurt. you're my lucky charm.

꒰⠀jae⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀yun.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as park jae-eon from nevertheless . . . the major red flag turn green flag guy. loves sneaking up on you to steal kisses anywhere and everywhere. aware of how his body effects you and uses it to his full advantage, again touching you anywhere and everywhere in front of anyone and everyone. shows up unannounced to your unit just because he misses you or he's in the mood to ruin you. always i mean always kisses your lips to get or give a taste of any thing y'all have in your mouth. walks you to all your classes and pins you to wall at least once on the way. actually really cares about you but you're so hot he's too horny all the time to show it. overall my boy corrupted you to the core in every way possible. do you want to go see butterflies?

꒰⠀sung⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀hoon.⠀꒱⠀ ⠀🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as jung gu-won from my demon . . . the sexy incubus like demon who can't believe he fell so hard for a human. lives for the way you drool over his visuals. needs to hold you for every second of his life. boy doesn't give a fuck about anyone that's not you. uses his demon abilities to take you to scenic restricted areas like the top of a prohibited building to show you the stars or drive the car insanely fast to get somewhere he can touch you freely. there's this unspoken dynamic of a predator and his prey, especially when he's rearranging your guts. will get you anything you want through his powers. drives you everywhere you're his princess, you don't need to do anything. never fails to give you a goodbye kiss. you're my fate that i cannot defy.

TAGLIST ( open. )

[maybegays-blog]

Can u write sad Lady d angst i want to cry

Here you go 🙏🙏 Also I canT write angst to save my fucking life, sorry. I tried my best tho😢😢

Echoes Of Sacrifice

Warnings: Gore(?) Character death, murder, depressed Alcina.

—

As Ethan Winters ascended the winding staircase of Castle Dimitrescu that led to a secluded tower, his heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination.

He knew that somewhere within these ancient walls lay the key to ending the reign of the vampiric matriarch, The Dagger Of Death's Flowers. And he would stop at nothing to see his mission through to its bitter end.

Unbeknownst to Ethan, you trailed silently behind him, your own heart heavy with a sense of foreboding. Every step brought you closer to a confrontation that could shatter the fragile peace you had fought so hard to maintain. But you couldn't stand idly by and watch as Ethan plunged a dagger into your lady’s heart. Not when you knew the depth of her despair, the agony of her loss.

You pressed on, ascending the steps as the chill of the winter wind swept past you.

Your lady had warned you to stay back, but you couldn’t just stand by and watch that man kill your entire family.

Finally, the staircase came to an end, opening into a secluded tower bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. In the center of the room, a large coffin containing a decaying skeleton. Nestled within the skeleton’s arms, lay the dagger—the weapon capable of ending Alcina Dimitrescu's immortal reign.

But before Ethan could make his move, you stepped forward, your voice trembling with resolve. "Ethan, please," you pleaded, your words a desperate plea for reason. "This isn't the way. We can find another way to end this."

But Ethan's eyes burned with determination as he reached for the dagger, his fingers closing around its hilt with a fierce intensity. "I can't let her hurt anyone else," he growled, his voice laced with a steely resolve.

With a surge of adrenaline, you lunged forward, your hands grappling with Ethan's in a desperate struggle for control. The dagger glinted ominously in the moonlight as the two of you fought for possession, each movement a flurry of desperation and determination.

But despite your best efforts, Ethan's strength proved too great, and with a swift motion, he wrenched the dagger free from your grasp. Time seemed to stand still as the blade gleamed in the moonlight, its deadly edge poised to strike.

As Ethan gripped the dagger tightly in his hand, his eyes blazed with determination as. "You're standing in the way, of me and my daughter!" he spat, his voice thick with anger and resolve.

However, you refused to back down, your own voice trembling with emotion as you pleaded with him.

"Ethan, please," you begged once more, the desperation evident in your tone.

Ethan's gaze hardened as he raised the dagger, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face. "I can't take any risks," he growled, his grip tightening on the weapon. "Not when my daughter's life is on the line."

"No!" you cried out, your voice a desperate plea as you lunged forward once more, your hands outstretched in a futile attempt to stop him. But it was too late.

With a sickening thud, the dagger found its mark, sinking deep into your chest with a cruel finality. Pain lanced through your body like a thousand fiery needles as you stumbled backwards, your vision swimming with darkness before you sunk to the ground with a loud cry.

Ethan didn't get any time to react as your fiancé stormed into the tower and saw you sitting on the floor, your form going limp, a primal roar of anguish tore from her throat. The man-thing quickly backed off as your lady rushed to your side, she dropped to her knees. She cradled you in her arms, tears welled in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," you managed weakly, your voice cracking with pain.

"No, my dear," Alcina whispered, her voice trembling with sorrow. "I should be the one apologizing. I have failed to protect you, my daughters, everything." Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving trails of mascara in their wake.

You reached out with trembling fingers, desperate to brush away the tears cascading down your lady's cheeks, her sorrow etched into every line of her face.

"Don't cry, m-m'lady," you whispered, your voice barely a tremulous murmur, weighted with your own heartache.

Your touch was a fleeting caress against her skin, a feeble attempt to soothe the anguish that threatened to consume her. But in that moment, as you gazed into her tear-filled eyes, you knew that your words were not enough to ease the pain that gnawed at her soul.

As she felt your breathing grow faint, panic surged through her.

"No, Y/n!" she cried out, desperation lacing her voice. "Stay with me. We can be together, marry, have children! Please."

Her voice rose, desperation lacing every syllable, as she pleaded with you to hear her final words, her heart breaking with each passing moment as your life slipped away from her grasp.

“I-“

As you attempted to respond to your lady's desperate pleas as best you could, a painful, bloody cough erupted from your lips, and you quickly covered your mouth with your elbow, earning more tears from your lady as she watched helplessly.

You yearned desperately for the chance to live another day, if only to be by her side for a little longer.

"I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry, 'Cina," you murmured, your voice fading away.

Your eyelids grew heavy, but you fought desperately against the urge to succumb to sleep, clinging to consciousness for her sake.

“I-I can’t…” You weakly held her hand.

But despite your best efforts, you could no longer hold on.

"I l-love you," you breathed out one last time, the words barely a whisper as darkness enveloped you.

As you went fully limp in her arms, your lady’s heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her sobs echoing through the tower as she held you close, her grip tightening as if trying to hold onto you forever.

Meanwhile, he stood by, a silent witness to the tragedy he had brought upon you all.

But as her teary eyes shifted to the figure of Ethan Winters, her eyes narrowed with a fierce resolve. She gently set your down before, with a single, fluid motion, she rose to her feet, her elegant form now radiating with a deadly grace.

"You will pay for this," she growled, her voice low and menacing as she advanced towards Ethan. Alcina's rage burned like a wildfire, driving her onwards with a relentless fury.

With a primal snarl, she lunged forward, her nails elongating into razor-sharp claws as she seized Ethan by the throat. Her other gloved hand wrapped around his neck as the scent of blood filled the air. She tightened her grip, her eyes blazing with a feral intensity.

"You thought you could defeat me?" she hissed, her voice dripping with contempt. "You thought you could take everything from me and walk away unscathed?"

Ethan, fueled by desperation and the relentless drive to protect his daughter, fought back with a ferocity born of desperation. With a surge of strength, he desperately tried to stab your fiancé with the dagger.

Yet, as the dagger pierced her flesh, it proved futile. Her skin swiftly regenerated, just as it had before, within mere seconds.

The last Dimitrescu's eyes widened in shock, her expression shifting into a mask of fury, a silent condemnation of the consequences wrought by Ethan's actions.

In that instant, a surge of realization swept through Ethan: the poison on the dagger had rubbed off onto you when he struck you.

Barely giving him time to process the gravity of his actions, with a swift motion, she tore open Ethan's chest, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh with a sickening squelch.

As Ethan's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, he gasped out, "Stop... please..."

She paid no heed to his pleas, her grip unyielding as she ripped his still-beating heart from his chest with a savage snarl. Blood sprayed across the tower, painting the walls in a macabre tapestry of crimson as Ethan's lifeless form crumpled to the ground.

With a triumphant light in her eyes, Alcina held Ethan's heart aloft, her eyes ablaze with a fierce satisfaction. "No one," she declared, her voice echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap, "no one will ever take my beloved from me again."

And as the echoes of her words faded into the silence, she turned her gaze to you, her heart heavy with sorrow.

He had already taken you, he had taken your life.

For though you were gone, your memory would live on within her, a beacon of light in a world consumed by darkness. Your lady could only sit beside your lifeless body, her heart breaking as she clung to your side, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, my sweet girl, why did you do this?" she whispered, her voice choked with sorrow and disbelief.

The days that followed were a bleak procession of solitude and sorrow for your fiancé. The once-grand halls of Castle Dimitrescu echoed with emptiness, each footstep a haunting reminder of the absence that weighed heavily on her heart.

Alcina retreated into the depths of her chambers, the shadows embracing her like old friends as she mourned the loss of you and her beloved daughters. The air grew heavy with the weight of her grief, each breath a struggle against the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume her as the maids watched their mistress slowly lose herself.

The grandeur of her surroundings felt hollow and meaningless, a cruel mockery of the life that had once thrived within these walls. The portraits of her daughters gazed down at her with empty eyes, their faces frozen in eternal beauty—a painful reminder of all that had been lost.

But it was the silence that was the most unbearable—the absence of your laughter, your voice, your presence. Each moment stretched out into eternity, each heartbeat a relentless march towards an uncertain future without you by her side.

In the depths of her despair, the dragoness found herself grappling with emotions she had long buried beneath a facade of strength and stoicism. She questioned her worth as a mother, as a ruler, as a woman burdened with the weight of centuries of loneliness and longing.

With each passing day, she vowed to honor your memory, to carry you with her always.

—

Masterlist

[mopeyy]

Little Hunter

Avatar Frontiers of Pandora

Eetu x Navi! Reader

Vocab:

taronyutsyìp - Little Hunter

woosh. You groaned as another arrow missed the target. No matter how many times you practiced, you still had the aim of a child. How were you supposed to hunt if you couldn't even hit the target? You sighed in defeat as you walked to pick up your arrow. Suddenly you heard a cocky laugh from behind you. You rolled your eyes, knowing who would be there when you turned around. "I guess archery isn't your strong suit, Sarentu." You reached down, picked up your arrow, and started walking back to your position. "Shut up, Eetu; you're supposed to be my teacher, so if I'm failing, it could only be your fault," you suggested. He laughed as he made his way toward you. "It's not my fault you are this way. The sky people have taught you to hold a gun and not a longbow." When he reached you, he tilted his head and clicked his tongue. "I see what's happening. You're standing all wrong. here,"

He stood behind you and pushed you to his chest, fixing your posture. "You need to keep your back straight and loosen your shoulders." He slid his hands up to your shoulders and pushed them back. "And you should hold your bow like this." His hands moved towards your arms, adjusting them, before placing his hands over yours, making sure you were holding the bow right. "Do you see how much better that feels?"

He was so close that when he spoke, you could feel his breath on your neck. You only nodded in response, scared that no words would come out if you tried to speak. He slid his leg in between yours and used it to widen your stance. "Stand like this, nice and firm." He moved his hands off of yours and slid them down to your waist. His voice was next to your ear as he spoke, "Now feel the wind, and when it is calm, shoot."

You watched how the leaves on the trees shook and how the grass moved. When it all stilled and you no longer felt the breeze on your face, you released the arrow. It sliced through the air faster and smoother than it ever had. For the first time, it hit the target. Not completely in the center, but it was better than you had done before.

Eetu released your waist and took a step back, giving you some space. "You're already improving, Sarentu." He said this with pride in his voice. You turned around to face him with a smile. "That was the best my aim has ever been. Will you keep helping me practice?" You hoped he would say yes. You wanted to get better so you could hunt, and you didn't mind Eetus's company. "I can't; I promised I would hunt arrow deer for the meal tonight." You sighed in disappointment. "I take it back; you're a bad teacher." You joked and crossed your arms with a smile.

"ouch, you're hurting my feelings, taronyutsyìp. If I could stay and help you, I would, but I have better things to do." He smiled. You scoffed and turned back to your practice. He playfully rolled his eyes and said, "I'm only joking with you; come find me at the bonfire tonight. We can speak then." He offered. You opened your mouth to reply, "Maybe, it depends if I go." You shrugged. "Right, well then maybe I'll see you tonight." He said, then left as someone started calling his name in the distance.

--------------------------------

The fire was bright against the dark sky and the embers danced in the air. All of Pandora glowed around you. It was a breathtaking sight. The fire was huge, surrounded by dancing Na'vi. And the air smelled sweet, must have been the smell of today's hunt. You could never get enough of Aranahe cooking. You decided to go to the bonfire tonight and try to have fun. It was better than having your ear talked off by Teylan at the resistance base.

You spotted a table full of delicious meat and fruit. mmm. you hadn't eaten all day and couldn't wait to dig in. You squeezed through some dancers on your way to the table. You almost made it until someone grabbed you by the arm. Suddenly you were thrown into a dance by another Na'vi. You were being pulled every which way, so fast that you hadn't even realized you were dancing. Every time you tried to break free you were passed to someone else and forced to keep dancing. It was an endless cycle.

Finally, out of breath, you broke free. You stumbled out of the dance circle, fixing your hair while doing so. You didn't dance often, and you had never danced like that. You regained your breath and continued your previous task: getting to the food table. This time you were able to do so with no distractions. When you reached the table you huffeed in annoyance. Of course, all the food would now be gone.

Someone approaches you and stands at your side. "Were you hoping to eat?" They questioned. You looked to the side and made eye contact with no other than Eetu. "Yes, but I'm too late." you sighed. He laughed and then handed you a kebab stacked with meat and fruits. "Here you can have mine, I only took a bite." He offered. You smiled at him, "Thank you." You took a bite and it had to be the best thing you ever tasted. The meat and fruit made each bite savory and sweet, a perfect combination. He laughed at your eagerness, "You must be so hungry after all that dancing huh." He snickered.

You paused your eating and your ears quickly reddened with embarrassment, "You saw that?" you prayed to Eywa that his answer would be no, but your prayers were not answered. "Of course I saw it, everyone did. Who knew the Sarentu could dance." He said, teasingly. You put the finished kebab down and used your hands to hide your face. Eetu grinned and moved your hands away from your face.

"It wasn't bad taronyutsyìp. You tried really hard to keep up with the dancers, I thought it was cute." He gave you a squeeze on the shoulder in an attempt to make you feel better. You let out a soft smile,

"Maybe I should pursue dancing and quit hunting."

"slow down, don't get too cocky."

You two shared a laugh.

The laughter between you and Eetu lingered in the air. As the night wore on, the bonfire's glow seemed to cast a spell over the gathering, with the Na'vi's vibrant blue skin illuminated by the flickering flames. Eetu's eyes held a spark that mirrored the firelight, and you found yourself captivated by the way his presence seemed to command the space around him.

As the night deepened, Eetu's gaze turned thoughtful, and he leaned in closer to share a story from his youth. He spoke of a time when he too struggled with the bow, how he overcame his shortcomings through perseverance and the guidance of a mentor. His words were not just a tale of personal triumph but a subtle lesson on the importance of patience and practice.

The conversation shifted as Eetu inquired about your life before Pandora, your dreams, and what you hoped to achieve among the Na'vi. You found yourself opening up, sharing stories of your time with the RDA and your own challenges. It was a moment of mutual understanding, a bridge being built between two worlds.

By the end of the night, you and Eetu had learned a lot about each other.

[cogentranting]

In The Marvels there's a vulnerability to Carol that we don't really get in her earlier appearances. There's a few glimpses of it in Captain Marvel, but not much, and it's certainly not visible in Endgame (not as a fault of that movie, she's just not very close to the center of that movie). But I find the exploration of that in this movie really appealing.

You have this woman who is incredibly capable, incredibly powerful, and generally very self-sufficient. And you see the way that over the years that's worn her down. She's the mighty Captain Marvel-- one of the most powerful people in the galaxy. And she's absorbed that view of herself, that that is who she needs to be all the time. She needs to carry it all, to fix it all.

As Captain Marvel that's meant that she works alone and she's always off to fix a new problem. More importantly, it led to her nearly disastrous decision to destroy the Supreme Intelligence, and from there to an inability to directly confront that failure (tactically or emotionally) or to accept help in fixing it.

As Carol, it's cut her off from anyone else except a few carefully distanced professional friendships-- she is friends with Fury, and Valkyrie, and Yan, but there's also a coolness there, and with all we're given the impression that she keeps them at arm's length and only comes around when necessary. And again its created an even bigger problem-- she stayed away from Maria until Maria was dying, and never came back to Monica at all.

It's never directly connected for us in the movie, but there's a pretty clear connection here back to the first movie. That careful distance wasn't present with Yon-Rogg. With him she was playful, open, she'd come to his room in the middle of the night. She trusted him. And she was utterly betrayed. He used her, trapped her, manipulated her, stole her life and her memories, tried to kill her. And back then, she only regained her identity when she broke free from him. That experience has made her wary.

But she's also just off-balance. Her memories were taken and she still hasn't fully gotten them back, so she's unsteady in those old relationships. And she's indestructible and powerful but it does her no good in dealing with actual relationships. She meets a problem that she can't punch or blast, and her flight instinct kicks in.

So when The Marvels starts out, those years of being alone and trying to be Atlas carrying the world on her back, have left her shaky. She's scared to talk to Monica. When she does come face to face with Monica, and Monica initially rejects her, Carol visibly shrinks. In dealing with Dar Benn, she's running scared--not scared of Dar Benn, but scared of failing again or messing things up more, and it makes her impulsive, and causes her to push away Monica and Kamala. And it's all a vulnerability that she covers up with cockiness and bravado. She doesn't show people that vulnerability. Instead she shows them the invincible Captain Marvel who can fly into suns and move planets.

And this movie uses the power-switching to handcuff her to two other people to force her out of that destructive pattern of total self-reliance and running from being close to anyone. It physically will not let her run away from Monica and Kamala, and it turns her attempts to do things by herself against her.

Kamala is there to model for Carol a sort of emotional openness that she hasn't known in a long time (if ever). Her heart is all the way out on her sleeve and Carol needs to see that. When Monica discusses her mom's death, Kamala literally shows Carol what to do on the simplest level by hugging Monica and forcing Carol into that hug. And it matters that Kamala is a child doing this, because that simplicity is key. Carol doesn't need to FIX the situation, and Kamala isn't burdened by that mindset. Kamala can approach with this childlike openness and simplicity, not overcomplicating it by trying to find the perfect thing to say or do, and it turns out that's all Carol needs to do too. And so simple hugs become incredibly powerful in this movie because it's just about being willing to be there with some and to hold them, and in the end Carol gives that back to Kamala when they hug after losing Monica.

And for her part, Monica models to Carol that you can be strong and part of a team. Monica has grown up and become a captain and become a superhero. She's incredibly capable. And also very very comfortable working as part of a team. So despite her tension with Carol, she's able to bring that easy team dynamic to the group and get Carol to embrace the team instead of being hampered by it.

Once Carol is able be at ease with being vulnerable, once she can open herself up to others, once she can share her burdens, that's when she finally is able to come home to Earth after nearly 40 years.

[oozedninjas]

How do you think the 07 boys would react if the reader died? Like in an accident or killed by shredder or sm? just food for thoughts

They say there are five stages of grief...

Leonardo will blame himself for it no matter how you die. Did you get sick? He's a ninja. He should have noticed the symptoms as soon as they appeared! Did the Shredder kill you? God, that's his worst nightmare. Because it not only means he failed as a partner, but he also failed as the leader of the team you belonged to. He couldn't protect you, and he can never forgive himself for that.

Denial

There must be some way to rebound it. His mind flashes from here to there, and Leo considers possibilities that in a normal situation would seem delusional. Could Donatello build a time machine? There must be some way to reverse it. There must be. It can't be that you're just... gone.

2. Anger

It's a sheer tough situation because even though he would want to fight recklessly, with no regard for himself, Leo has to be strong for others and continue playing his role as leader and older brother. So he bottles up his feelings; buries them deep until they slowly rot inside him.

When he faces the Shredder again, he notices that there is something different, and for the first time in decades, Shredder fears he may not win. I think Leo would also become rougher with low-ranked criminals, hitting harder than necessary. The terrifying part? It's always perfectly calculated.

Also, his brothers resent his anger during training because he becomes tougher and more demanding. However, it's only because Leo can't afford to lose anyone else. He wouldn't be able to bear it.

3. Bargaining

He should at least be able to compensate your family. Friends. Anyone who loved you as much as he did. Thinking about doing things for people who were close to you brings him a kind of comfort that appeases his anger. It's a way of trying to regain a sense of control over the situation and find a way to cope with his pain.

4. Depression

He'll never again feel the tender caress of your fingertips over his shell, the warmth of your lips pressed against his own, or the sweet melody of your laughter echoing through the lair. The realization grips his heart with an ironclad vice, suffusing his spirit. It's a devastating blow that rends his very soul asunder.

5. Acceptance

But you wouldn't want him to be sad forever. No, in fact, Leo is sure you'd be insisting that he needs to move on. It was okay to feel, to be upset and cry along the way, but it was time to get up. Master Splinter plays a very important role in how Leo slowly recovers himself. One step at a time.

Donatello: It depends on how you die, but I believe what could drive him insane is if he loses you slowly due to an illness. That would be his personal hell because no matter how hard he tries to change things, researching new methods, creating medications, even biotechnology... nothing seems to yield results. Isn't he supposed to be a genius? What's the point of intellect if it can't use it to save you?!

Denial

"With this cryogenic capsule, I can keep her body intact a little longer," he tells your loved ones, who stare at him, paralyzed by the desperation in his eyes. "I can fix this. I can- I just need more time." But a person is not a machine, and your loved ones did not allow him to experiment.

A machine! That's it! Donatello made a copy of your memory and some parts of your consciousness before your departure; perhaps he could put that into a robot and somehow... maybe with enough effort and the right wires...

2. Anger

It worked, and yet it failed miserably. This thing in front of him looked like you, sounded like you, shared some memories, and yet, it felt utterly empty. How could he insult your memory out of his own desperation?

Donatello smashed his Bo staff into the control center, piercing it completely. He trembled a little as he continued to hold it, buried in the circuits. That night there was a blackout in the lair, and all that could be heard from the lab was the grinding of teeth.

3. Bargaining

It happened to you, but perhaps with all the research and testing, Donatello could prevent someone else from going through the same thing. So, he decided to sell his investigation, using a pseudonym and a couple of computer skills made it no problem to do it all from the lair. For him, it's like gradually adapting to the reality of his loss through these small actions.

4. Depression

To think that a robot could replace you. What the hell was he thinking? Your scent, the softness of your skin, the beautiful way you looked at him when discussing a new discovery, that could never be replicated. The lab, like his heart, felt terribly empty. It was a feeling as suffocating as it was overwhelming: knowing that you would never be there again, that he couldn't see or hear you anymore. Suddenly, he can't breathe.

Burying himself in his work keeps his mind occupied. He doesn't need sleep; he needs to progress with the research. Donatello escapes from every little space that could allow you to somehow appear in his mind.

5. Acceptance

April helped a lot in this part, as she was the one who started bringing you into the conversation with positive things, and Don has small spaces to feel shared nostalgia. April feels the same loss; she understands, and that is extremely comforting.

Over time, the feeling of emptiness left by your memory transitions to a bittersweet sensation, and gradually he allows himself to move forward, remembering you with a smile, with a fondness that embraces him from the bottom of his heart. Donatello learned that every minute counts, and for that reason, he now makes space to spend more time with the people he loves, and who love him in return.

[odesofmeddea]

i find it tragic and fascinating how sam's narrative is so rife with representations of confinement. of failed or rejected attempts to actually get away. as much as there is a need for individuation there is concurrently an utter terror at being let loose, the terror that comes at once that the individuation is permit. in season i, the scarecrow, we glimpse a pageant of both dean and sam's agony because it's the first time that dean tells him to go if he wants so, and the focus here is on how sam concaves in situations of such release. he crawls back happily. then he invariably tells dean, again, that he has to let him go once this is over... but then sam stays. when dean, through all his miseries, manages to let him be at the beginning of season v, sam is instantly awestruck, near nonmotile, ‘i was expecting a fight’, because he is so used to being forced back in, to being loved like this - through forms of compulsion, coercion and captivity. he is also used to these conditions being the only plausible safety that preserves him via its isolating modi operandi. so whenever he walks away, he is still not exempt. leaving with ruby, he aches to reconcile with dean, after. he brings up his brother on a date with the coworker-girl telling about his regrets, he calls dean at night, asking to be taken back. and it is copacetic in a way that the narrative warps sam to the point where he is defensive and greedy for love that, having forced him to renege his sovereignty, monopolized itself in his life.

first sam can't go back to stanford - his life is a locus of ecumenical violence, his body a site of appropriation, and yet, in all his impurity (since he deems himself impure and abject), dean is still there, loving, preserving, persevering. then he can't go back to the normal world because the family business (secret) takes away sam's tongue to the point where he no longer can communicate himself nor his trauma into the ambiance he now is completely alienated from. he is confined. he gives up, he lets himself to get eaten. the only thing he has is his brother who can't talk, toward whom all ends of his life invariably resile; dean representing the only support constancy to sam is simultaneously a representation of willed stasis - he no longer evolves outside of his brother, he convolutes into and about him. when you center your life around someone that much, they become the crux of your sense of self, they become the fulcrum of your good or bad self-perception… when lilith kills dean, the world ends. he is changed, ghastly, he is a man arage, a heathcliff bereft of his cathy - the personal transmutation is still a lot about brother, is still spurred by deanlessness. even the confirmation of sam's reality, later, gets centered around him - through the palm-wound dean sewed and reopened, unmade into the site of verity: if dean was here, in this wound, this is real. if dean trusts me, if i hadn't let him down again, then i'm whole, redeemable.

sam, now, is unwilling to leave. he long entered this limen of altered consciousness that is the result of the psychological duress he grew up in, along with the exacerbation of trauma that ensued once dean pulled him back into the vortex of the family loop. he gets domesticated - not that he wasn't by the fact of birth into this house - in the intergenerational mentality and trauma, many a time he goes through the identification with his father (prior: aggressor) whose obsessiveness he espouses. which is ourobóros because john could only execute and interpret love as an incarceration - dean tells lisa how he would cloister them when they were kids which is another form of perpetuated captivity resulting in complete dependency and disconnection from society. it is something you can't walk out and away from. when sam tells so to the hallucination of his child-self, while locked by dean in the cage: ‘we were never gonna get away’, he assumes his heritage and, too, cannot let go. gabriel tries to teach him the lesson on letting dean go but it is quite late for sam to either learn or want it. he just keeps pleading, like a homeless dog: please, please, bring him back, because homelessness is freedom and freedom means a world without dean. it happens to be a harrowing one.

in some episode when dean leaves with crowley but without him, sam gets drunk and cries about it to bobby. literally. when dean comes back, he locks him in the bathroom. it is also the same episode which crowley calls him dean's dog, the first time probably that he directly gets this canine title instead of dean, and it fits, it depicts. he is so insecure, so dependent. he loves dean to the point of self-annihilation. he always comes back. he, like any tamed dog, wants to prove himself, and to protect, and attack for. that might be why he is so scared when dean deliberately lets him out. if he let me out... does he no longer love me? and if he doesn't love me anymore, what else do i have in this world that i abjured for my cage completely?

[pedrithink]

pedri and reader arguing over him forgetting their anniversary?

forgetfulness ✩ pedri gonzález

summary: pedri forgot your birthday.

To wake up and watch your boyfriend go into another room and get ready without looking you in the eye hurts. You really don't understand how Pedri can forget this day, your day. You understand that he has a lot to remember, but it hurts that he doesn't remember a day that is so important to you.

"Good morning." You say when you see him in the kitchen, hoping that he would turn around and remember your day.

He walks up to you and leaves a kiss on your head. "Good morning, sleepy head. How are you?" You can only swallow dryly and try to hide your disappointment as much as possible.

"Fine. And you?" You briefly watched as your boyfriend approached the door to leave and go straight to training.

"I'm fine. I'll see you later, okay?" He leaves a kiss on your mouth and a light caress in your hair before leaving completely out of the house.

You take a deep breath and can't control yourself, tears streaming down your face. How could he do this to you? He didn't have to write you a text or send you a bunch of gifts, you just wanted him to at least make a point of remembering your birthday. Maybe at least a "Happy Birthday" would be better than silence.

Ignoring the tightness in your chest, you sit down on the couch to read all the affectionate messages your family and friends have left. Trying not to remember that the person who simply lives with you has completely forgotten.

"Hey, how's she doing?" Pedri turns to face Gavi, he doesn't fail to arch an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, she who?"

"Y/N? What do you mean she who?"

Gavi looks at Pedri with a "Are you crazy?" expression and Pedri is even more confused that he is so randomly asking about you. "She's fine, same as always. Why are you asking me that out of the blue?"

Pedri lets out a weak laugh and Gavi can't help but frown. "I just thought she'd be mad that you had to come to practice on her birthday. Didn't you get a break? I swear Xavi was cool with it, but…"

Pedri interrupts Gavi on the spot and picks up his cell phone to check today's date, Holy shit….

"Holy shit, Gavi. What have I done?" he sits up and runs his hand through his hair nervously. Pedri can't hold back a nervous sigh and he remembers the way you looked different this morning, the way your eyes looked disappointed with every word he said.

"Don't tell me you forgot…" Gavi runs his hand across his forehead and doesn't fail to slap Pedri on the head. "Fuck you, you stupid. Go home and fix it, you dumb fuck."

After Gavi said this, Pedri couldn't contain himself and just picked up his cell phone and car keys. The despair and anxiety hit him when he saw that at was going to be a 40 minute ride judging by the awful traffic he was caught in while coming from the training center.

He only hoped that you could forgive him for that.

You hear the door slam in a rush and your expression already changes. Gavi texted you and it hurts even more to know that he only remembered because someone told him to. You turn toward the door as Pedri opens it and only cross your arms when you see his figure with an upset expression on his face.

"Baby, I…forgive me." He tries to move closer to you, but you push him away.

"Now you remember? Nice to know how important I am to you." You let out a wry smile and shake your head as if you couldn't believe Pedri's attitude.

He shrugs his shoulders and turns serious. "Please try to understand me. I have a lot on my mind."

"I also have several things to do and solve, Pedro. But, I have never forgotten a birthday of yours."

Pedri sits on the edge of the bed, fixing an invisible point with a stare that sends chills to your bones. "You're picking this argument for nothing. Because I forgot for a few hours you're going to undo everything I've done for you all year? The world won't stop because it's your birthday." When he says this, it's as if a knife had been plunged into his heart. Doesn't he understand that it isn't only about today? He has been getting more and more distant and it seems that everything about you is not so important to be remembered by him. "People go on working as usual, their problems don't end, their available times are the same. So it is natural that someone ends up forgetting your birthday. So if I have not remembered your day for a few hours, it does not necessarily mean that I have no consideration for you, that I am not a good boyfriend or anything like that."

You paused in the middle of the room, with teary eyes. "The thing is not just today, Pedro. You don't make a point of having me around anymore, and it seems like every day more and more you make it clear that things about me don't matter to you." Your eyes watering and the way your hand rests on your chest to try to push away this pain that only increases, he can only feel bad for making you feel this way. He wants to touch you and pull you into his embrace. "Whoever loves you automatically provides you with things that don't need to be begged. And I think that if you didn't mind my absence, maybe it's because my presence was never important to you and that scares me."

"I love you, I'm sorry if it made it seem like I don't care about your presence." He says while looking deep into your eyes, he says all this with his eyes shining and murmuring, as if it were your little secret.

He opened and closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling from his eyes. He hates arguing with you and this feeling that you're about to run between his fingers, this shit hurts. He snuggles deeper into the bed and crosses his arms. You sighed, running a hand on your face.

The silence stretched on and on, you were afraid to say something and end up hurting both of you. "I…I think I'll sleep in the other room tonight." You say as you stare at the wall in front of you, and when you saw that he was going to say something, you interrupted him. "Just for today, just for today…I think we both need this space. To think."

He shakes his head in agreement, but more than anything, he just wanted to pull you into his arms and ask you to forgive him for all the times he made you feel this way. "Sleep here, I'll go to another room." He murmurs, already getting up, not even giving you time to say.

The night came and neither of you could sleep, you had never had a fight like this before, much less slept apart after one. You started a war without realizing it, without communicating, and that is the biggest mistake of all. You just wanted this night to pass and Pedri was controlling himself not to get up and hug you until that pain in his chest was gone, nothing hurts more than knowing that he hurts you.

As morning came, you could only sleep for a few hours and Pedri couldn't rest at all. He just wanted the morning to come soon so that you could talk and get this out of his chest, he couldn't accept losing you.

When you got up, Pedri was already in the kitchen preparing something for you to eat. You let a smile escape when you saw the way he was committed to cooking for you. "Good morning."

He turned to you and tried to relax his posture when he saw that you were more relaxed after yesterday's discussion. God, he has never seen you as beautiful as you are now. "Good morning, my love. Hey." He runs his hands through his sweatpants and approaches you a little fearfully, you lower your guards and let him hug you.

He squeezes you even tighter in his arms and leaves several kisses on your head, you can only sink further into his arms and nuzzle the tip of your nose against his neck. "Without your hug that comforts, without your kisses that fill me with so much love, without your company. I can no longer imagine a future where you are not, because you are always there!"

He says all this while his hands are running down your back in a caress. You listen to everything intently and try to take a deep breath as a weight comes off your shoulders. "I know I've been a jerk, I'm sorry about that. But under no circumstances should you think that I don't care enough about you." He pulls you away from his embrace so that you could look into each other's eyes while this conversation takes place. "Love is not confusion, love is staying together, even confused. It's working it out together. It's not walking away. I've reflected on all my actions this morning and I'm just sorry, I'm sorry for all the times I made you feel like it wasn't reciprocated."

You caress his face and let a smile escape. "It's okay."

"It's not okay, but now it will be. Love is about giving, believing, and sharing. Love is all of that and I want to be with you. I want to share my needs and your needs because making you happy is my goal." He leaves three kisses on your mouth and rests his forehead against yours. "Now let's go back to yesterday and make you have an extremely special day, today is all about you and me."

You can't hide your excitement and hug Pedri again. He has never broken a promise and you faithfully believe that he will review the actions that have hurt you. He is the person you trust most in the whole world.

[obae-me]

The Brothers and their Nightmares

I was going to post this for Halloween, but things came up as they always do and I couldn't get to finishing it until now. Enjoy the late angst and spoops!

These are just dream scenarios I imagined the Brothers would suffer with, connected to both their Sin and the personal things they struggle with. Most of it is symbolic but could still be triggering for some.

TW: Hurt/No Comfort, Violent Images, Death, Blood, Angst, Nightmare Scenarios, Burning, Broken Bones, Disturbing Scenes that may upset readers. As Always, Read Safely.

Lucifer:

Displayed in a box. Preserved. Hung on a shelf for all to see. Trapped in a clear case with giant pins puncturing his wings and limbs in place. A perfect specimen.

The pain is immense. The torture almost unbearable, but this is where he belongs, right? To be shown off with Pride? To weather any struggles and pain to shine ever brighter in the light? A diamond only need be pressurized, cut, and polished before it's valuable.

Blurry faces of demons and angels and humans alike all pass him by, pointing at him and observing him with awe, sometimes fear, but nothing more. A living piece of art. He's searching for any familiarity amongst the crowd. The people he loves the most, the people he wants to shine for above all, the people he's suffering for!

Please! Give him a reason to endure this crucifixion! Prove to him that this is worth it! Let him know that he's enough! This prison must mean something! Don't say it was all for nothing! Everything he's worked for! Everything he's lamented over, toiled for! Look at him! Appreciate him!

But no one ever comes.

In the end he's left alone. The pins push deeper. The blood dripping from his eyes.

Just a caged butterfly.

--

Mammon:

Glistening palms. Shimmering faces. Gold as far as the eye can see. A perfect shining kingdom. Frozen lifeless subjects. This isn't what he wanted.

Come on, Belphie. Beel? What about you Asmo?... Satan?... No... Levi, please... Hells no... Lucifer!

Unmoving metal lips match each stiff jeweled eye. His hands... He- he had only touched them. That was all he did. Right? All he had done was love them. The Greed had become too much. In his ambition for glory, his corrupted embrace had tainted his family past the flesh. Motionless mannequins, that's all they were now. Cursed to shine till the end of time. His treasures that he had always craved.

Was this what he had wanted all along? No! He had created this all for his family! His friends! His loved ones! They were to all to gimmer with him! Not leave him alone! He did this. He always took things too far. Steal and cheat and lie until nothing remained! Rotten scum! Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he just be better?! Give him a second chance... please. He can be better... Someone say something...

A destiny written in stone. Take. Even the lives of his brothers.

No matter how hard he tries, he only makes things worse.

Surrounded by the Fool's gold.

--

Levi:

Clanging, burning chains. There's a constant deafening buzzing in the air, the chatter of thousands of people. The voices rise and fall in rhythm, like the beating of war drums, or the increasing pace of his heart. He can't think, he can hardly see, and he can't breathe.

Millions of shining eyes stare down at his restrained body in the middle of a stadium. The blinding gazes singe his body, his skin melting off his bones. He's not the only one at the center of attention. Other people, other contestants are here to play the same game. Win, and get everything you ever dreamed. Lose, and be forced to burn with Envy and shame.

Every failed attempt of his makes the arena hotter. The infernal heat spills from the breaths of the crowd sharing his weaknesses to the world. They give his competitors the advantage, kicking him while he's down. The thrumming gets faster. It's not fair! He's trying so hard! Was he just doomed from the start? Was he born a failure? Hated by the universe since the moment of conception?! Is that why he's never good enough? Is that why all his brothers get to move on without him?!

His dreams always just out of reach. He's not good enough to be loved.

The bitterness eats him up from the inside.

Till he's melted into a pile of nothing.

--

Satan:

A mess of strings. The curtain is drawn. The show begins! It's the same routine day after day after day after day-- He can't take this any more!

He doesn't even understand this masquerade! The story he's forced to play out is gibberish, some fickle plot he can't even begin to fathom. Everything is foreign to him. The audience, the dance, his body, his Wrath. None of it is recognizable. And they chuckle like they know, like they enjoy his ignorance. Limbs are pulled in any direction the strings choose. Bones broken, lips sealed shut, he's pushed to the brink of oblivion once again.

But he worked so hard! Everything he's read, everything he learned, so he could stop feeling like this! He's not just a hollow doll, controlled by someone else's ambitions! He has thoughts, he has feelings! He might... not fully understand them yet, but he's trying! Tell him he's smart, that he's strong, that he's his own person! Let him stand on his own!

But only his mind is allowed to scream as the congregation watches.

A wicked dance until the strings are snipped. His opportunity to be independent. But instead, he falls into a lifeless heap on the floor.

Nothing without someone else.

The poor wooden plaything will never be real.

--

Asmo:

An endless winding labyrinth of mirrors. He runs, panting and crying as he tries to find his way through the illusions. Make it stop! Let him have peace!

The creatures are invisible to his normal eyes, only showing up in the reflections of the mirrors surrounding him. There's hundreds of them at least, crawling over each other to get to him. They don't even make a sound, silently scrambling towards him. An amalgamation of Lust. Each time they grab him, they take something precious from him. His fingernails, strands of his hair, his beautiful lips, the blush from his cheeks. They rip off of him as easily as tearing away a puzzle piece.

They're stripping him of his beauty bit by bit! How is he supposed to be loved like this?! If he's not gorgeous, than what is he? He has nothing left! This is all he has! He's not strong, or smart, or powerful! His physical charm is all he has! Please, leave him alone! He's supposed to be a jewel! That's all anyone ever sees him as!

He can't bear to look at himself. Every time he glances he's slightly different. Until he no longer recognizes the humanoid shell in the mirror. But he has no choice to keep looking if he wants to keep an eye on the monsters pursuing him.

A single fumble.

It's rather quick and painless as the souls each take what they want from him.

And leave him broken in shards on the floor.

--

Beel:

Screams echo from every direction. Buildings crumble as the earth shakes and the air hums. A moving living black cloud sweeps through the town. Where's his family? He has to help.

The sky a vast pool of crimson as the Celestial Sun and Demonic Moon cross paths and cast a torrent of blood down onto the merging realms. The ground beneath them all trembles, growling. It's Gluttonous. Every person he tries to save is always just too far away. They either get consumed from the plague of insects or fall into the gaping maws of the starving earth. And he still can't find his family.

Why? Why is this happening? Why isn't he strong enough to save anyone?! All the workouts, all the training, pushing his muscles stronger than any demon ever has, all so he can quit feeling so useless! He told himself he would be ready to take on anything! Even an entire army if he had to, just so he could save somebody for once! Lilith... Belphie… everyone... he's sorry... Sorry he's so weak. This is his fault.

The foundation beneath his feet begins to crumble.

His wings feel far too fragile to fly.

It makes sense that in the End of Days, no one would be there to save him.

He didn't deserve it.

--

Belphie:

There's something rotten in his chest. It feels like a pit in his soul, growing larger with every passing second. The sensation is agonizing.

It's something no one can see, but something he feels with every breath. It's very slowly stripping him of everything he is. His love, his memories, his desires... He needs to go find help. The House is laid out all wrong. Doors lead to where they shouldn't, hallways bend in the wrong directions. His house doesn't even feel like home anymore. Every step feels harder than it should. The supposedly easy task of getting help seeming more like an impossible feat. This rot is more than just Sloth. It takes what seems like hours to finally find his family. That's when he reaches out to them, trying to tell them what's wrong. But he can't speak for some reason.

Gestures and panicked grasping means nothing to his brothers. The desperation in his eyes goes ignored as most simply rub his head or push him off to the side, not taking him seriously in the least. But this hurts! He can't take the pain anymore! Someone help him! Don't push him away, don't treat it like a joke! Listen to him! Take what he has to say into consideration! He can't possibly speak over six other voices!

His efforts wasted, his energy depleted.

The rot ate away at his heart and left him numb.

And everyone walked away, leaving the boy who cried to cry alone.

[mymarsmoonandstars]

It's been a week since I saw Wakanda Forever, and ever since, it's consumed my thinking. There are a million things I'd love to discuss about the film, but what keeps me up at night is Shuri and Namor.

Shuri had every right to gut his ass. Namor brought flooding and destruction to her home, killed her mother, all while knowing she was suffering from the death of her brother. Hell, Namor nearly killed her (by impaling her, which how did she survive that idk, anyway). And what was the worst thing that Shuri had done to him? Say no to his alliance to go to war with the surface world? Shuri wasn't the one who killed Namor's two subjects. She actually tried to save them. Yet just like T'Challa, she's forced to deal with the consequences of other people's actions, and when she stands over Namor with a blade to his neck, her internal struggle with this flashes across screen. It's a powerful sequence, but the one that captures me the most is when we hear her mother telling her to show Namor who she is. Not only is it one of many callbacks to the first film, but really, who is she? Who is Shuri? She is struggling with her identity, as grief often does to a person.

When audiences first met Shuri, she was the genius younger sister, the comic relief, who took solace in her lab. But now all this has been taken from her, and taken so suddenly. She's now front and center, now her country's most powerful figure, no longer the jokester, no longer a sister, no longer a daughter, and feels like a failure. The moments where she stands over Namor is us watching her return to herself but also become someone entirely new. She sees the destruction reverse. Sees Namor's hope. Sees their mothers and their nations. She understands that they are similar just as much as they are different. She finally realizes that ending Namor's life cannot reverse the destruction nor her pain, but sparing him is the answer to ending the cycle of it. She recognizes that even though her mother and brother are gone, she is still sister, still daughter. Death in Wakanda is a beginning.

Above all, Shuri understands she cannot think of only herself anymore. She cannot push her people to war because of her own grief and vengefulness. She becomes a leader, in granting mercy. A protector.  And extends this protection by offering it to Namor and his people. This brought a bitter taste in my mouth at first, but it isn't about who's right or wrong, especially when both sides have a little right or a little wrong to them. It's about navigating the actions of their forebearers in the best way they can.

Her multifaceted character is symbolized by her panther suit--it's reminiscent of T'Challa, Kilmonger, and her past self. Now that she's burned her mourning clothes, hopefully in the next movie, we'll see her accept this role with newfound confidence and surity of its purpose. I'm also hoping that Shuri kept Namor's little baby ankle wing that she sliced off and puts it up somewhere to serve as a reminder that she bested him. Can you imagine? I can't wait to see more of her.

Then there's Namor. And dare I say it, he was justified in his feelings of wanting to kill Queen Ramonda. She was cunning and tricked him and had two of his people killed in the process. Remember the scene where he's cradling his subject's face as she dies? And she asks if he can save her and he does not answer because he knows he cannot? And then--was it Namora?--who says, with such blame dripping in her voice, that he was busy meeting with the queen during Nakia's attack. Namor is so angry, and very possibly, so ashamed (and scared?). His ultimate goal is to protect his people, and he failed. He's a god and Ramonda made him look like a fool. To him, she had to go.

Ryan Coogler said that despite Namor being about 500 years old, he wanted him to still feel somewhat childlike. And is he! He's rash. He focuses only on the immediate response without thinking of the ramifications. He seems almost charmingly innocent in his hopefulness that Shuri would want to join him. There's no doubt they wanted us to feel a romantic connection betweeen them, or perhaps just from Namor's end. I don't know who gives clearance on the music, but whoever does, they are always very intentional and unique about it, and a love song plays during That One Mesmerizing Scene. The theories that Namor is infatuated with Shuri just weaken me. She's the first person to ever see Talocan. The bracelet. The mural. Him acknowdging her power. Him waiting for her to beckon him. I. have. folded. No one look at me.

I really hope the MCU explores their relationship. And though I'm sure it would never be a romantic one, that does not make it any less intriguing. Ryan is phenomenal with his villains. Just like Kilmonger challenged T'Challa not just with war, but challenged his core beliefs, Namor did the same with Shuri. The only difference now is that Namor is still alive, and this sets us up for a delicious exploration of a complex relationship between two leaders who have similar wants but conflicting perspectives.

Man. I love them. MCU, please let us see more of them. And if we do, please. Be careful with them.

[gretahayes]

Favourite tim drake recs? :0

Assuming you mean fanfic recs, I've got probably the most for him and this is long, so it's going under the cut;

This is genuinely one of my favorites, it's set post-Red Robin, and deals with Tim's vigilante stalking habits, his family finding out, Cass realizing there's no photos of Tim, them setting out to take/find some of him (a much harder feat than you'd think) and finally, Tim seeing the photos. It's amazing and sweet, and I can't recommend it enough. (I especially like the Bruce & Tim and Tim & Damian in this)

This is by the same author, also set post-Red Robin. This is Damian and Tim focused, Damian POV, in which Damian sees Bruce's contingency plans for him and the rest of the family, and with nobody else to turn to, runs for Tim. Canon divergent in the way Bruce doesn't have a contingency for his children, neither does Tim for his team, or them for him, but it kinda makes sense in this setting. Their interactions are amazing here, and seems so real.

In this, Tim gets a tonsillectomy. An elaboration in the form of a long fic. A must-read, I feel. It's funny and has so many feels and such good characterization.

!!! Can't believe I almost forgot about this one! Tim is Bruce's assistant, not son, and never became a vigilante. He's incredibly overworked, but no less dedicated to the Waynes. It's heartwrenching and sweet and funny and—words can't do it justice. It's a must read. The Al Ghuls make a cameo but Tim knows how to deal with them. Tim's deeply sad but next to nobody knows and those that do just accept it (including him). Kon is the MVP. Cass. Damian and Tim have an odd bond built of mutual respect and disdain for everyone around them. Luthor tries to recruit Tim every year and fails.

This is funny and amazing—Tim lands in a universe where he's technically considered a drug addict, since coffee is a drug and in the regular universe everyone drinks it.

The YJ fic Ever. I've recced this at least three times, and I will continue to. It's amazing characterization all around—both YJ and batfam—and genuinely is so fun. I love everyone in this. When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

This is Tim & Damian—Tim gets his overprotective big brother moment :) love love LOVE the way everyone is written here.

This is short and hilarious—Tim has amnesia after a head wound (can only remember back to his YJ days) and tries to bullshit his way out of anyone noticing. He might have succeeded if not for Cass.

This is a time loop fic, switching POVs. Tim's stuck in a time loop in which Jason always dies. The loop before the one this was set in, he accidentally kills Damian out of stress and too-fast reflexes. He breaks down when he sees Damian again, the whole thing unravels, and they resolve to help him out of it.

THIS SERIES MAKES ME FERAL. Jack, Tim and sometimes Dana, set when Jack made Tim quit from Robin. Horror-type elements and beautifully poetic, but centered around Jack's POV of the son he realizes he doesn't know, and him realizing he may be a shit dad. Dana's the best stepmom ever, and Tim's far nicer to her than he is Jack. This is the first work, in which Jack tries and fails to understand this Tim, and realizes that this Tim is Robin, not Tim. This is the second (and last) work in the series, in which Tim hasn't fully quit the lifestyle even though he's not going out as Robin, but Jack has no proof he hasn't. Just a hunch and a few odd occurrences that us, the readers, who are familiar with Tim's hero life will find obvious, but Jack does not. Dana makes Tim happier, more Tim than Tim-Robin, than Jack does, and Jack hates it. Near the end, he starts calling Tim Robin, not Tim. I LOVE it. Even if you hate Jack (like I do) you need to read this, for the Tim characterization if nothing else. Outsider POV, except he shouldn't be an outsider. But he is.

This is so fucking funny. Tim gets a matching tattoo with Kon, and hides it from Bruce. When Bruce—and the rest of his family—find out, all goes to hell.

Remember when I said the Jack and Tim series was only slightly horror? This is horror. Bruce's got a habit of picking up monsters, and this one is about Tim. If you're sensitive to horror, please read the tags and maybe avoid it, because this is delightful but not for everyone.

In this, Tim becomes an unintentional sugar daddy to the caped community. It's a bit iffy in some places, but hilarious.

This is Dick and Tim (surprised it took me this long to rec one with them as the main focus tbh) and it's Dick checking up on his little brother. Pure fluff, and genuinely amazing.

This is Tim & Bruce but also Tim & Tam in some places. Bruce forgets Tim is the majority shareholder for WE and is thus invited to shareholder meetings, Tim finds this very amusing and is generally a menace. You can FEEL the teenager in this Tim. Amazing.

Tim's de-aged to a kid in this, and re-meets his family. Fluff and feels ensue.

This is Bruce and Tim. Bruce isn't prepared for his newest Robin's neuroses.

This has Tim & Cassie meeting at an archaeologist event as kids and having to fight a monster thing :) it's cute

GODDD this fic? This fic ruined me. Beautiful Tim characterization, a gorgeous look at Bruce and how much he fucks up despite caring, and Dick being a stressed but amazing big brother with gorgeous writing. I love their brotherly affections here, and Tim's weird neuroses being shown here. Tim & Bruce is how it starts, and it's very much centered around their relationship, but it tapers off into Dick & Tim, which I'm not complaining about. Kon (and Bart!) makes a cameo and is an amazing friend. Can't rec this enough. If you read none of the other fics, please read this one.

This is Dick and Tim again. Dick forces Tim to go undercover with him to an Elvis convention in a thinly veiled attempt to spend time with the brother who he doesn't think knows how much he loves him. It's set in Tim's POV, though, so until Dick says this, Tim doesn't know. Hilarious and short.

This is Dick and Tim (who's surprised? Nobody) where Dick goes to Robin!Tim's science fair because Tim mentioned it and well, nobody else was going. Short and sweet.

This deals with the batfam finding out about the shitshow that was Tim's BruceQuest. If you're a stickler for canon I'd recommend you skip this one, but if not, it's a great read.

This is Dick and Tim again, and it's amazing. Tim's alone on Christmas Eve. Dick finds out, and does something about it. It's Robin!Tim, so this is Dick, Babs and Tim. This author is amazing at writing their interactions, plus inside Dick's head is a tricky place to write and they nail it perfectly. Mostly Dick & Tim, but since he invites Tim to Babs' holiday party, Babs makes a good number of cameos.

This is Tim talking a jumper off the ledge while Damian watches. Then they talk about it. Tim from Damian's POV is always interesting, but this especially is amazing.

This is a core four fic, Tim's POV! Pure humor. Tim finds a dildo in the dishwasher and he drags them for a team meeting so he can sus out whose it is.

I've recced this before, I think, but I'll do it again. Red Robin canon divergence fic in which Bruce is actually dead, and Tim calls Dick to tell him he thinks he may have been wrong. Dick's POV, short, but the emotion in this is outstanding.

In this fic, Damian has trouble with the transition from Dick's Batman to Bruce's Batman. Tim, who's also had both, is surprisingly helpful. This has so many Tim and Damian feels that I'm literally bursting at the seams. Melancholy, camaraderie, and all the good stuff. Damian's POV, and since he sucks at so much as guessing at what's going on in Tim's head, it's all the more great.

This is Dick and Tim, a soft Christmastime fic.

This is Bruce and Tim. Bruce and Tim have a sort-of game that started when Tim was thirteen. Initially, it was Tim stealing sips (or occasionally whole mugs) of Bruce’s coffee, back when he was too young for Alfred to allow him to drink it. Now, though, Bruce is getting his own back, and steals Tim’s coffee when he can. Sweet and fluffy.

Here, Tim gets a headwound and only remembers back to his Robin days, and forgets to be awkward around Dick and Damian. Tugs at the heartstrings. Dick's reminded of how much he misses this Tim.

This is really funny. Remember that time during the YJ days where the adult heroes were de-aged and the kid ones grew to be adults? Tim didn't reach six foot. In this, he's mocked ruthlessly for it.

Here, Tim goes to high school again after dropping out :) it's core four and hilarious

In this, Tim accidentally kills his dad in self defense—or rather, thinks he does, Jack's still alive but he doesn't know that until Dick shows up—and scrambles to call Dick. He calls Jason instead. Dick eventually gets called and shows up, and the brotherly feels in this are amazing. Tim's in shock for a good portion of it, and it's his POV, so you've got to piece some stuff together. Bad dad Jack, as in worse than canon bad dad Jack. Tugs on the heartstrings, and have I said I love Dick in this? Because I do. Bruce shows up near the end, and to everyone's surprise, doesn't absolutely fuck things up and/or fail as a parent.

Here, Tim is sick and alone. Dick, after not hearing from Tim at all for three days, goes to his apartment, finds him sick, and takes care of him. Eventually he gets dragged to the Manor for some actual r&r. It's sweet, and this writer has an amazing way with words and an intriguing flow.

In this, Bruce knows Tim. They have a routine, have habits, they know each other. This is so so touching, and I love it so much.

Here, Tim and Steph give Bruce a headache. It's amazing.

I..can't even begin to describe this. Bruce is fresh from the timeline, and this is a sort of introspection/character study type thing about him and Tim and how Tim's changed. Mostly, though? Mostly, Bruce just gives his son a hug.

Here, Kon is Tim's work husband. Bruce suffers. Pure fluff and humor, with a touch of feels.

Here, Bruce takes Tim to get his wisdom teeth out. They're both worried, but together, they're alright. Tim cries while doped up on the drugs. He cries a lot.

Here, 90's!Tim Drake wakes up in his Red Robin body. Exhausted from a YJ mission, he chooses to focus on getting through a normal day so as not to disrupt things for his future self. But, y'know, his way. Hilarious and so in-character, if exaggerated for comedy.

This is Tim and Damian—Damian gets hit with truth serum on patrol, and a pissed off Tim has to come and get him. Damian resolves to not tell Tim he's been hit with truth serum. They get closer as a result. Love their dynamic in this.

This is core four again, but just general teenager superhero chaos. Can't rec it enough

Here, Tim tries to build a LEGO Gotham, but his family just can't leave it—or him—alone. He calls a family meeting to tell them to knock it off, and they do not. Fluff and humor.

Here, Tim has appendicitis and gets his appendix removed. The best mix of fluff, feels, and good old complicated family dynamics ever

In this, Bruce tries to navigate giving affection to his odd son, Tim. Touching and funny.

This is Tim and Damian—Damian crashes on Tim's bed in the Watchtower when injured, Tim finds him. They talk, and maybe bond a bit, even though they'd never admit it.

Here, Bruce hugs Tim. Really nothing else to it.

Another fic where Tim wakes up with amnesia and pretends to know his family so he's not rude. He's found out when he correctly deduces Bruce is his dad, but makes the mistake of calling Bruce dad.

This is Dick and Tim again. Tim gets de-aged into a six-month-old, and Dick takes care of him. Soft and so so sweet.

In this, Tim's trying to work in his apartment when his siblings keep showing up to distract him and get him to take a break. It's sweet of them, if very annoying.

This is Bruce and Tim. Tim's injured and lying in bed, Bruce gets him takeout. Feels fuzzy and just...good. You've got to read it to know what I'm talking about, no summary does it justice.

Here, Damian tries to make amends with Tim. He does it very oddly though, so Tim thinks he has a crush on him, and avoids him all the more for it because ew-gross-ew-ew.

In this, Tim gets his teeth knocked out and grabs Dick as a mediator so he tells Bruce. Short and funny-sweet. You can tell this is in Tim's Robin run, due to all the little hints dropped.

This is Tim and Kon, funny and nonsensical. Tim calls Kon in the early hours of the morning, drunk. Kon thinks he deserves sainthood for this.

In this, Tim has road rage and most of his family find that out in the most hilarious way possible.

Bruce and Tim—a test sort of fic? Interesting, definitely.

This is timkon, Tim has memory loss and is amazed by Kon all over again.

Core four go to a gala :)

This is Dick and Tim, Tim breaks into Dick's house, accidentally interrupts his nap, tries to leave out of guilt, and gets wrangled into hugs. So so soft and so so sweet.

Another de-aged Tim fic, but this time with six year old Tim and Bruce taking care of him. This is so melancholy and...ugh. I love them.

Here, Tim and Dick are thrown into an alternate universe and have to try and get back with no other support system and no way out. They meet this world's version of Bruce and Alfred, though.

CEO Tim, and hates it. He makes that Luthor's problem.

Timkon, in which Tim plans all his dates VIA corkboard and Kon is so attracted to that.

CEO Tim (again), except he's still a teenager and people end up thinking he's a communist. This is short and hilarious all the way through. Also, Bruce is there.

This is The kid!Tim fic ever. Tim, having found a weird hole after a storm, decides to go exploring ignoring the fact that This Is Gotham and They Probably Have Cursed Stuff Down There.Luckily, it was just a cave system that spans the entire Gotham underground. Unluckily, Tim is a very curious child. Tim's a sorta eldritch being at the end?? Amazing, 100 would recommend.

In this, Tim finds out he isn't his parents' biological son. This changes everything. This changes nothing. Can't say anything else without spoiling, but I can't rec it enough.

In this fic, Bruce is back in time in Drake Manor, and meets baby Tim. It's like you're frozen in time, and all that matters is Bruce and his infant not-yet-son.

Here, Kon and Tim date. Tim's a cryptid stalker that refuses to be photographed, Dick is a big brother that loves his little brother, and it's cute.

Sorry it took me so long to compile this list anon, happy reading!