#i did this instead of doing math homework

[dashuisofanubis]

I was going through some of my old fic drafts and found this one where Sibuna decides that since everyone in the house has a basic level of awareness of the mystery, they're not going to bother hiding it except from Victor/Trudy. Trouble is, Mick is a lot more oblivious than they assumed.

Anyway I'm dying a little so I had to share it

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

Sibuna was definitely one of the worst-kept secrets of Anubis House. Sure, it was only the five of them that were active members, but everyone else had either been told (Joy), figured it out (Mara), or walked in on them at some point or other (Jerome). Mick had very definitely checked at least two off the list.

None of them seemed particularly committed to long sleepless nights running round the house, but since they knew, Sibuna figured as long as Victor was out of earshot, they could talk about the mysteries to their hearts content.

Of course, they hadn’t been expecting Mick to show up in the library during their final battle with Rufus and Senkhara. He stood wide-eyed, hardly able to take it all in, then Joy… He knelt down beside her, holding one of her hands while Eddie exorcised Nina.

After the smoke of battle cleared, and Joy was revived, he decided to break the uneasy silence.

“You guys sure know how to LARP, that was hardcore.”

If anything, the silence was even more deafening.

He frowned. "Okay, I mean, that part with Joy was a bit uncalled for, but I did not realise you were that good an actress Mercer! And all the effects and the fact you got Victor to join you-!”

“Mick…” Fabian began cautiously. “You- you do know this was all real, right?”

“…what.”

There was an explosion of sound as everyone started shouting over each other, though it quickly dissolved into hysterical laughter. None of them had the energy to deal with this, but the thought that Mick assumed everything they’d just witnessed, coupled with everything they’d said and done over the past few months, had been an elaborate roleplay was too much.

A few weeks earlier…

Mick stared into his bowl of cheerio’s, wishing they could spell out the answers to today’s physics test. He had revised, but Fabian bailed on their revision session last night to hang out with Nina, so instead Mick spent the evening watching clips from the Olympic Games on his laptop. Which was kind of physics, right? Momentum and angles of movement and…yeah this test wasn’t gonna go his way.

His traitorous roommate entered the room, deep in conversation with Nina and Amber. Mick’s ears pricked up, hoping to catch some insight into today’s test, or a way he could butt in to ask them about it.

“I’m just saying, why do these ghosts keep bothering you with all of their problems? Like, isn’t there ghostly therapy or something?” Amber asked as they sat down.

“I’m not sure Senkhara’s the therapy type.” Nina replied. “Besides, I’m the Chosen One, it’s kind of my deal to deal with this.”

“Really? It said that in the Chosen One handbook?”

Ah, so they were talking about their latest campaign, that made sense. It didn't help him much though

“What if we just found someone with like, the most irrational fear and got them to do the task?” Alfie asked.

Mick was sat at the table, looking over some maths homework. For once he was going to get it finished and handed in early, rather than scribbling some numbers down seconds before the teacher collected it. Or he was, if his housemates weren’t huddled round the coffee table, speaking in what they thought were low tones.

“If that was the case, Patricia would definitely be going in.” Amber laughed.

“Hey!” Patricia exclaimed, elbowing Amber.

“Sorry, I’m just saying. How many feet do you think are going to be in a tunnel?”

“Uhhh in an underground hand-dug tunnel, I’d say the chances are higher than you think.”

Amber conceded, shuddering. “Ugh, don’t make me think about that.”

“Okay so probably not Patricia and Alfie then.” Nina said, grimacing at the odds tipping in her favour.

Patricia turned round to peer over the sofa at the long-suffering maths student. “Hey Mick, what’s your worst fear?”

“Patricia!” Fabian hissed. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged. “Assessing local resources.”

“What?” Mick asked.

“What’s your worst fear?”

“Yeah I heard you, what’s it got to do with anything?”

“We’re trying to work out who has the most irrational fear, so what’s yours?”

Mick frowned. This was definitely a more complicated question than finding the square root of x. Failure, rejection, disappointing his father, there were plenty to choose from.

“Injury.” He decided.

“Injury?”

“Yeah, like a serious injury that means I can’t run or play football anymore. That’d really suck.”

The group considered this. Mick felt like he was on trial for something.

“I mean realistically he shouldn’t get hurt?”

“Yeah but knowing the tunnels? They could just collapse to prove a point. And then our football team would be down their star player!”

“Yeah and Sweetie does not want to lose another trophy this year.”

“Okay, so not Mick then?” Patricia asked.

The others shook their heads unanimously. She turned back to face Mick.

“Good news Mickolas, you’re not suitable for the task!”

“Thanks? I guess?” He replied.

Satisfied, the group turned back to their discussion, leaving Mick with several questions to ponder on. He shrugged. It must be part of their new DnD campaign. He was a little miffed they hadn’t asked him to join in, though he didn’t really go in for all that dice rolling, so he wasn’t surprised.

He helped himself to a piece of fruit and went back to his equations, leaving them to discuss Jerome’s fears.

[legrzybek]

more rambling time RAHHH (repost cause i decided i wanna make this its own post instead of a reblog)

so,,,,, the info from my previous post,,,,,, it only gives me more thought for this au i have in my head where the spectre gets destroyed in some way and everyone is finally free from this eternal loop. they try to get back to a normal life, which is obviously hard or near impossible for some

azuretime in this au,, with azure no longer feeling all of that hatred that the spectre forced upon him, it doesn't take too long for them to forgive two time. it honestly saddens him to see that the person they once loved so much is like a broken shell of their former self now (and even then, i imagine two time pre-ritual was rather mentally unwell as well. which is why they fell victim to the cult's manipulation and threw away the only person that was there for them.)

i dont think two time would ever truly forgive themself for what they did though :( they still feel as if everything that happened is their fault, no matter how much reassurance & comfort they get from azure, but they do feel a little better

azure isn't entirely free of worry either, they fear that they'll once again become the violent and hateful individual that they didn't want to be. even if the thing that was causing him to be that way is now entirely eradicated, his mind constantly reminds him of the harm he caused against his will.

i imagine them living in some kind of secluded cabin/small house in the woods. after everything, they're trying to heal in a peaceful place among nature with not a single soul disrupting them. (and also, regular people could probably be a bit frightened by azure's monster form)

azure gets back into botany & gardening, their home and its surroundings are decorated with lots of flowers because of this. two time likes to observe him work & maybe even help him a bit :D they try their best to learn from him (god its so cute to me to think of this big monster guy just gently and carefully tending to plants bless him)

two time could maybe adopt their old name, breeze, again. <3 (a headcanon of mine that i wrote about in a different post)

they also abandoned their dagger, burying it in the nightshade field where azure's grave lied. it hurt too much to even look at it anymore. it reminds them of all the horrible things they've done.

even if they both know things will never be the same as they used to be, they're so glad they could go back to loving eachother. they've promised that they won't let anything tear them apart ever again.💖

a bit unrelated but i also like thinking about how nonhuman features would act on characters so!!

azure's tentacles prove to be quite useful for a lot of day-to-day things, they allow him to hold more tools & stuff, grab objects more conveniently, reach higher places, etc.

also. hugs perhaps.,.. teehee,, he could wrap them around two time like some sort of weird blanket LMFAO i think it could be cute nd comfy ^_^ i hc that theyre both touch starved as fuck after allat so. lots of hugs. they need it .ilove when characters hug and cuddle Most peak shit ever ong

two time's wings and tail are able to move, however they're really stiff and doing so is a bit painful. though with some kind of regularly done exercises, they could slowly but surely become easier to move. not like two time cares about the pain anyways cause i think they're rather desensitised to physical pain,, which upsets azure cause he doesnt want them hurting themself </3

also they pretty obviously can't fly with their wings sadly,,, the closest thing they'd get to that is azure lifting them up in the air with a tentacle while they pretend they're a bird 😭 HELP

also,,., azure's hat,,,, i'm thinking that after the spectre Fucking Dies, the hat is no longer connected to it so it's not a vessel for its hatred and control anymore. it's just something that azure uses to verbally communicate. i'm not sure if it's a separate entity/consciousness though

OR it could also simply disappear or be thrown away after the spectre's death, in which case azure would be unable to speak. they could still communicate in other ways such as writing or simply body language

im leaning more towards the first option cause i kinda wanna keep the hat lol

[woodswolf]

a tribute to my favorite post that came out of the pikposting phenomena from august to october of 2023, originally written by @olimar-posting. i have loved this post ever since i first read it and i still think of it very fondly. pure poetry

(Image IDs in alt)

[thepandalion]

"its ok, you don't need to know verbs, you're not a linguist, you're a dog" -me, to my dog, right now

[markiplierfan173]

Gay people?!

[eddis-not-eeddis]

The truly annoying thing about college is that I'm kind of expected to be a top performer because I actually buckle down and do the work. I don't even do it that well, I just do it, and so I get decent grades (not phenomenal, but good) and I'm considered a good student. There are other kids who are waaaaaaaay smarter than I am. When it comes to raw intelligence they have me beat all hollow--they instantly pick up on topics I have to grapple with for days or weeks of careful study. They will easily answer a question that takes me four or five minutes of puzzling over to solve. But they're flunking out because they refuse to study. They're failing classes because they won't submit work. I'm only considered a good student because I muddle through it and actually submit assignments. Imagine how much better they could be if they actually studied for their exams or didn't wait to work on their projects until the day they were supposed to be submitted.

[sehtoast]

me: MY HAIRLINE IS RECEDING OH NO OH FUCK

also me: full time student (worth noting i wrote stupid here at first without realizing), 20-30 hours in customer service every week, teaching myself 3/4 classes, teaching myself advanced algebra with a teacher (basically just a proctor) who shuts down any/all asks for help, juggling college financial woes, navigating dying relationships/people abandoning and/or attacking me bc i don't have time for things i used to anymore, none of my hobbies are making me happy when and if i have time for them,, i have no time for myself, i'm on my second all-nighter this week, i'm perpetually exhausted in a way sleep isn't fixing, my body aches because i'm so tired, and i'm barely able to stay asleep when i do get the chance bc the anxiety wakes me up

my hairline: two hops this time!

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

middle school is too early to be exposing kids who think too much to the existential pit that is the concepts of zero, infinity, non-integers, and so forth

[bunnishauntedhill]

MDNI 18+

simon helping your aching heart with his aching cock !

{wc : 2k} simon is a bit of a meani :(

it wasn’t a surprise, not a shock to your core that you had expected. not the same overbearing despair of when your mother left the ground, or even when your first puppy came to join her. more of a relief. fresh breath of air that your lungs had been begging your weak body for. he was gone, down in the ground, six feet deep, hands finally releasing its tight grip on the glass bottle.

the funeral was a breeze. it felt nice. relatives sobbed like they were close with him. they didn’t know how he charged towards you behind closed doors—how you would be on your bruised knees, desperately trying to clean up the broken shards of glass that he had broken. having to look over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure he hadn’t risen off the floorboards he had passed out on.

yet, despite your fathers antics—you visited. you gracefully set down flowers on his grave that were supposed to be a bouquet you would carry down the isle, arm hooked with his. soon they would be shriveled up and you’d come around like you had to—like it was your duty, making another delivery to his headstone. if no one else did it, he’d be forgotten, and you couldn’t come to terms with whether you’d want that or not.

“still bringing posies i see.” it’s gruff, and you recognize it easily. his voice was reassuring, but you wouldn’t let yourself be pliant in it, to bask in it. you were bowed in front of your fathers name, as if he deserved the treatment. simon wanted to take that from your father. you being a good pup for him instead. “it’s not gonna go away easily just because you act like you don’t give a shit.” the grass next to you withers underneath the weight of his heavy knees, but to you it felt like the earth shook.

you let out a breath. “you don’t know that.” your tone is sharp, words eager to leave your mouth and you don’t care to control the anger in them. you’re closed in, shoulders crunching together solemnly, a shield to protect yourself. it was built nicely and with care, took years to get to its full potential.

sooner or later you’d crack, realizing your deadbeat dad was set out in the ground and left to rot. and simon was sure of that. dark eyes peering over you, you felt them. he could easily get under your skin and plant himself there, but he never took that advantage to his use yet. it’s been thought about, resting in the crook of his brain that dark memories settled coldly.

“never taught ya how to ride a bicycle, how to tie your own shoes, how to do your math homework. did he?” you waited for his words to go in one ear and out the other but it stuck right in the center of your brain. mocking. and simon did it well.

“wasn’t there for ya first day of middle school. wasn’t there when you got your first car. didn’t give a shit about prom, or your first boyfriend and when the scumbag left when the pureness was fucked right out of you.” you flinch.

simon watches you like you’re his prey, to see how you would fold. how you would crumble and roll over into his arms, away from the man below them. watching as your tightly knit shell unraveled and laid out for him to tear apart even more—and then sew it back together again. to become that new higher figure for you to go to. that shoulder to lean on.

your mouth is wired shut, teeth running across the fronts, waiting to be pried open and let out some harsh thoughts, to prove he was wrong—defend your father who had nothing worth defending. but you had none to give. you couldn’t. simon was there for all those events. the special ones that should’ve been photographed. when you’re dad was knocked out cold on the couch, simon was on the front porch watching you like you were his own. simon acted as that overprotective father when your prom date arrived, eyes low and prowling, ready to rip of the boys head if he dared touch you the wrong way.

“your father sure is somethin.” you didn’t make the move to correct your date that he wasn’t your father—you two weren’t even related. but it didn’t feel necessary to tell that fact. would it really be all that untrue? simon was that father figure you needed. he was gentle. firm but encouraging. all he wanted was the best for you—make you come out a bit better than you would if he wasn’t around.

that or maybe he wanted to be the owner of you. make you bow down to him just like you were now at your fathers grave. make you need him. and in return he could lick up your tears and kiss down on your cheeks with mock care. cooing sweetly before managing to press his lips against your soft, pouty ones just to be able to stick his tongue down deep and rough later. he didn’t care about your well-being, just how far he could make you go until you caved in, to let him indulge in his cravings.

the tears that refused to come out at the ceremony ran loose as it all settled into the nook of your skull. simon knew he had you now. his lips tighten in a straight line in a way to seem distressed by your behavior, eyes holding mock pity but you saw it as sympathy. saw a person that cared, that was willing to take you under his wing—like he always had. simon kept you safe and tucked in his arms, to comfort you from both the situation and the cold that started to creep up your arms as night settled in. you had caved. pliant in his strong arms scarred from stories he swore to never tell you—and he was firm on that. to keep you unaware of the harm he could do. to keep you thinking he was your savior, the only one you could rely on.

the cloth of his black t was stained with your salty tears, he knew what they would taste like. he’d imagine countless times before—darting his tongue out to draaag the roughness down your cheek, receiving a pathetic whine of displeasure from you. maybe even a little shove to get him away, only for him to drive you back into his bulk, forcing you to let him clean you up.

he’d like to see you squirm—propping you up in his lap so you could feel his very noteworthy bulge resting against the skin of your thigh. get you all warm and comfortable with his hard, make you wet enough—that you would give into the intensity of the throbbing sensation in between your legs. make you needy. not for some silly boy—or even the need to be comforted by your father. but for him. for his comfort. for his body, for his cock. have you mewling for it, foaming at the mouth like a little puppy dog. scratching against his chest, as if it would hurt him. as if it could make him give in.

he was trained to not give into his desires, his dirty fantasies he’d been having since you were in highschool. he was able to wait—and he’d wait until you were begging, sobbing for some sort of relief. make you grieve over it, your cunt soppy from ceaselessly grinding against the clothed bulge, already imagining it stuffing you full. keep you from needing any kind of meal.

and now he wouldn’t have to imagine.

his cock was wrapped snuggly in your tight hole, warm and just so pleasant. the warmth of your pussy making him go a bit hazy, eyes barley open but the smug look on his lips was clear. though, you couldn’t see it for your face was buried deep, deep into the crook of his neck. hiding your face, the shame of being seated on your father’s friends lap. right in front of his grave. ashamed that it felt so good—but so disgusting.

your tears were hot. simon found them hot. falling on his neck making him grip your hips with an unknown amount of pressure you had ever felt before—it made you squeak. your tears made him hard—making him want to fuck you hard, enough for you to loose consciousness, enough to make you sob, to cum right into that tight little hole that had only been fucked once.

simon saw the guilt—chagrin on your face. god he loved it. “dirty girl.” he purred, mouth pressed against your ear, breathing heavily into it. “sittin on my cock—right next to daddy, huh? and just so worked up for me.” your pussy quenched around him, sucking him into your sloppy folds.

you shook your head—trying to defend yourself. make a practical excuse that you wanted to make yourself believe. “please—please don’t s-say that.” you’re shaking, hands trembling as they grab his wide shoulders for some sort of support.

“why, afraid he’s listening?” his laugh his predatory—mocking. he got you on his cock so comfort was needed no more from his part. though, he couldn’t help his thumbs from rubbing small circles on the sides of your hips, the slightest bit of comfort in the pain you were facing.

simon was huge, thick and girthy, more than enough to fill you up to the brim, leaving his oozing, pink tip brushing against that sweet spot that hadn’t been touched effectively before.

he sighs deeply, “ya know…he probably is listenin. looking down—or may i say up—at us. cursing me, cursing you for being such a filthy, nasty girl. a whore as his daughter.” his mouth his pressed firmly on your cheek as he speaks, forcing you to listen and take it. “thinking where he went wrong. alcoholic tendencies is my guess.”

you couldn’t help but feel your slick run down your thigh, bouncing with little strength you had with moans that made him chuckle lowly. his words were so cruel, hitting your heart but hitting your cunt deeper. “come on darling. gotta apologize to daddy for being such a dirty whore.” he muffles. a sharp spank to your ass makes you jump with a whimper, pussy quivering around him.

“i…i’m sorry, daddy!” you squeal. tears rolling down your eyes like a little babi. so cute. you feel his hands grip you tighter if it was even possible—slamming you down on his cock, making you cry out with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “i said i was sorry! i’m so, so sorry.”

simon’s heavy pointer lazily circles down to your clit, his movements softer but anxiously slow. “sorry about what? be specific, darling.” he feels your hips jerk forward in attempt to get more out of him, causing another sharp spank to your other ass cheek, and gently massaging the reddened skin afterward.

“i’m sorry for being—being a d-dirty, whore! i’m sorry for disappointing daddy.” your plea is whiny, your clit aching for more stimulation. eyes are strained—everything is. tight and wanting permission to let loose.

“don’t just say it to me. say it to him.” his chin nods to the headstone just a few feet away. you could practically smell his rotting corpse melting in the dirt, making you queasy. mortified, eyes shaking from left to right. you wanted to ask if it was necessary—to lock eyes with something that would make you feel so much more than shame. but the look on simons face was firm.

your head turns and locks eyes with your father name engraved on the stone, barely visible from the lack of light left in the sky. “i am so sorry daddy. im sorry for being a filthy whore—for sitting on s-simons cock.” the words are slurred and easily fall from your lips. and you’re rewarded with his fingers moving the slightest bit faster on your clit, simultaneously moving you up and down his cock.

“there ya go, sweetheart.” he drawls quietly, lips pressing a soft, sticky kiss to your forehead and then to your collarbone. “thats a good girl, ain’t it?” his brows are furrowed, breaths a bit ragged now. your movements hasty, grinding to get his dick to hit just the right spot. “gonna fuck you nasty right on my cock—don’t worry, i’m sure daddy will understand.”

➽───────❥ masterlist . . . navi

[mossyfellart]

nicer image coming soon hopefully but. teeth

[trenchcrows]

hey gyus check this out

dogs are for when you care so much for someone else, no matter if they even like you or not, more often than not they don't care about you, even though you try so hard, they will never see you as their equal, you're just some dog who cares too much and you will always be weird for it, you caring so much (or at least appearing to) is your downfall, it's what will always cause you to fail, because they will never follow someone else as intently as you, you are loyal to a fault.

cats are for when build a facade of disregard, when you seem to care so little that they don't want to be around you, how could someone want to be around such an apathetic person, and when you do let yourself care, people get weirded out, they will only ever see you as uncaring and decide there is no point in caring for you if you never show your care for them back, you caring so little ( or at least appearing to) is your downfall, it's what will always cause you to fail because they will never care to see how underneath you really might care.

people see you as opposites, always tearing each other apart, whether you mean to or not, only causing the other harm because you're a dog and a cat, so separate and you would be in a constant loop of, why can't you see that I care so much for you, can you show a little care back??? and why can't you just care a little more, why do you always insist on not responding so emotively??? when the other replies why you always have to show your care, why must if be so loud and /there/??? and how can you care so much, don't you realise, you need to stop, that the world wont give a shit over how much you care???

when really, you are the same, the other can see how much you care, and you can see that sometimes their care is the opposite of different to you, that you both view the world the same, you have both been hurt in the same ways, you have both loved the same ways, you have both been loved in the same ways, you have both lost the same ways, you are two sides of the same coin.

^^^^^^

this too can be crimeboys ^-^

[wcters]

TEENAGER IN LOVE

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 2k+

summary: your relationship with lando through the teenage years

warnings/contents: mostly fluff, some angst

author’s note: i know lando moved to glastonbury later in his life but 🤫 i also wrote this in 2 hours instead of doing homework because i got excited and had an idea

     You and Lando had first met when you were teenagers. Him being a lanky teenage boy with puffy cheeks and curly hair, and you being a young girl with frizzy hair and a youthful look in your eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you first started dating, it’s like you both were on the same wavelength.

You still remember the day you met him ━�� how could you not? You two went to the same school so you knew who each other was, and you had heard of him from people around the town talking about his karting career. Your parents were family friends with the Norris’s, and they never failed to talk about how proud they were of their children.

It was the start of school after the 2013 summer break. You had quite a small friend group in school so when you had classes with no one you were friends with, you tended to be quiet and focus on your school work. That resulted in you being forced to sit next to the rowdy kids. Why? You didn’t know. It’s not like it changed them, and it just bothered you. It was one of those times, and it was Lando who was put next to you. Him and his friend group tended to be the disruptive bunch. They weren’t bad people or bad at school, just got a little too loud at times and forgot to pay attention.

You were sat in the middle row of your math class. The seat next to you was empty at the start of class, but at the end it wasn’t. Lando and his friends got a little too loud and he was “punished” by being put next to you so he couldn’t talk with his friends. You looked at him when he made his way over, but that was it. He was cute ━━ you could admit it. And it didn’t hurt that someone cute was being put next to you, but you shook your feelings off and forced yourself to focus. At them end of class when you were grabbing your things, a hand poked your shoulder. You turned around and came face-to-face with the Norris boy. He looked a little nervous, fidgety and a small smile on his face. You tilted your head. “Hey ━━ I uh ━━ didn’t have enough time to finish some of the notes. Do you mind if I borrow some of yours?”

You were a little surprised, you didn’t think he cared that much about school. Most kids wouldn’t bother getting down a little bit you missed ━━ not even you ━━ but he did. You smiled and nodded. “Sure,” you told him as you grabbed the paper out of your binder and gave it to him, “just return it once you’re done?” He nodded. The next day in class, he walked over to you and gave the paper pack, and you figured he would go back to his friends because the seat want permanent, but he didn’t. He put his bag on the ground and sat in the seat next to you. He did that, every day, for the rest of the year.

You two got to know each other well. You learned more about his competitive karting career and his family, while you told him about your family and friends. Nothing ever happened between you two, you were just friends. You had a crush on him, but you convinced yourself it was your mind tricking you because it was your first friend that was a boy. He thought the same, but he didn’t not believe his, he just didn’t act on it.

It was summer break, a year after you met him, when you realized you did like him. You were chatting with your grandma at her house as you were helping her sting stuff around the house. She had asked about your school semesters and how it was. You rambled on and on, not realizing that you mostly takes about Lando. It wasn’t until you were putting one of the last boxes down for her that it finally hit. “You must really like that boy, no?” You looked at her weird. “All you did was talk about him. You must like him.” It was when she said that that you had a moment of realization. After you finished helping her you went home to your mom and talked to her, confused on how to deal with this newfound information. She just laughed and gave you a hug, telling you that almost every teenage girl goes through this with someone in their life. That made you feel a bit better.

Your friendship turned into something more a couple weeks after that. The Norris family had invited your family to come watch one of Lando’s races at Buckmore Park. Your parents agreed as they wanted to catch up . . . You agreed because you wanted to see Lando. He did well, coming 5th place. You could tell he wasn’t happy about, but you were. You and your family met up with him at the end of the race. He wasn’t looking too happy, but when he saw you his face lit up. When you congratulated him he blushed. Your families talked for a bit ━━ mostly about how summer break was going ━━ and you were about to leave when Lando called out your name.

Your family continued to leave, saying they would meet up with you at the car with your mom winking at you. You blushed. At first there was some awkward silence, and then he asked “would you like to go on a date?” You were a bit shocked, not expecting it, and you were nervous. What did people do on dates anyway? You know adults went out to eat and drink but you were fifteen! You completely forgot that you had to answer his question, and he started sputtering out words saying that you didn’t have to, and he was sorry before you interrupted him with a “yes.” It was his turn to look surprise.

You went on a date the next week, both of you unknowingly doing the same thing and panicking to your parents beforehand. It went fine, a bit awkward ━━ obviously ━━ but you thought it was cute. You went out for icecream and walked around Bristol. Halfway through the date he slipped his hand into yours, and you accepted it, but didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

After that, you two were inseparable. You two were always together, and practically lived at each others houses. Sometimes ━━ for weeks on end ━━ your parents never saw you a lot because you were always at Lando’s house. His parents always updated yours on how you were, and they trusted you. During an interview for Drive to Survive, your parents swore during those times they only saw you in the morning and night, the rest of the time you were with Lando. This would switch between you staying at his and him staying at yours.

Though Lando wouldn’t admit it when he was a teenager, he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldn’t even ask why, he’s just do it. There are so many pictures on your phone and Polaroids of him in “embarrassing” situations ━━ like one where he had a face mask on and his nails painted. You keep that one in the back of your phone case. He would let you braid his hair, practice makeup on him, help him with his skincare, and so many other things. This would always be in the secrecy of your room and when your families weren’t there because he dreaded the day his family saw him like that.

He had no idea that you had shown his sisters and parents almost every single one. They promised to keep it quiet, and they did. You also know they won’t tell him that they have some of those pictures on their phones. It’s a secret between you and them, a need to know thing.

Whenever you had sleepovers at his house, you would stay with his sisters because you weren’t allowed to be with him ━━ for good reason ━━ and because you loved his sisters. As you got older, you bonded more with them, helping them out with boy problems and girl problems, because everyone had those girls in high school who made your life a living hell. You broke down crying when you found out they were moving to Glastonbury. How would you survive without not being able to hug your boyfriend? How would you cope without the gossip sessions with his sisters? The talks about your life over helping Cisca with dinner and talking politics with Adam? Laughing at embarrassing moments of Lando with his brother?

Before that, you had put off getting your license. You walked or took buses to most places, and it saved you money. When you found out they were moving though, you made it your life’s mission it get your license and a car. You were on moving day, helping the family with setting things up and cleaning up the place. You still remember the dinner you had that night. It wasn’t fancy, just Chinese takeout on a table in the half put together living room, but it was one of the moments where you truly felt like family. It wasn’t that you hadn’t before, but it was the private ness of the situation that really hit your heart. You begged to stay over, not caring that it was a school night, but you couldn’t. You hugged everyone goodbye with teary eyes, kissing Lando, and promising to be back soon.

And you were. When you had that car, you spent an unbelievable amount of money on gas. You drove to his house almost every weekend. Sometimes he would come over to your house, but it was mostly you going over there out of convenience. If Lando wanted to go to yours, he’d probably have to pile all of his siblings in the car, while you didn’t have to do that. Besides driving to Glastonbury, your car was also used as a pick me up. Whenever something happened with his sisters, you’d be there in a heartbeat, telling them to get in ━━ telling Lando he can’t come with him grumbling something under his breath ━━ and you’d go and grab food. Whatever they needed, you were there ready to do it? Boy problems? Junk food and a sad playlist. School problems? Listening to them vent and giving them advice. Period problems? That depended on that they wanted. You even remember one time on March break Flo had an experience with a boy and you took her to a rage room . . . It was so fun, and you definitely did it again with Cisca.

While you were there for all the important events in Lando’s life, he was the same. He was there when your grandma died, and you swore he was one of the few things that kept you together. He was there when you graduated high school and got accepted into your dream school.

Your relationship stayed the same throughout his whole career, you to where you both were now, living in Monaco. You still acted like teenagers, jokingly fighting over little things and teasing each other. Your love baver wavered, it stayed the same for each other, maybe even became stronger. There were periods in your relationship like when he first started in Formula One and you moved to college that it was tricky, but you go through it. You always would.

As you sat on the sofa in your home and twirled the ring on your finger, you remembered the whole of your relationship and the future of it. You were broken out of your trance by a kiss on your head. You hummed, not turning to look at him. “She’s gone to bed. She’s been changed and given her bottle. You smiled and looked up at him, “thank you.” He kissed you on your lips, “of course. You ready to go to bed, Mrs. Norris?” You chuckled and got up, walking around to the couch to meet him in his arms.

“Always, Mr. Norris, always.”

[strawberry-belle]

Picked up Sugar Happy Fairy Tale on a whim because it looks cute. Hopefully it’s not super fucked up and weird like the last time I blindly picked a manga!

[pathologicalreid]

everything is gonna be alright | s.r.

in which Spencer comforts your seven year old when he feels like he's unable to live up to the expectations set for him

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (hurt/comfort) content warnings: dyslexia, boy dad!spencer, bearcia, bullying, feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders at only seven. word count: 1.96k a/n: listen i know i'm usually pushing the girl dad!spencer agenda but there's something about boy dad!spencer that i think would be so healing for him and i especially love jamie and his little teddy bear with matching glasses :-(

There was a heavy fog that had settled itself over the Reid household, Spencer could feel it in the air the moment he walked through the front door. Instead of being met by two running kids, excited to see their father after he was gone for two days, he found you in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. 

Your youngest was sat at the kitchen table, scrawling the answers to her math homework on a worksheet while music played softly in the background. It might’ve looked perfect to the average passerby, but something was missing from the image. Someone. 

“Hey,” he greeted you, leaving his go bag in the mudroom and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

Not looking up from the cutting board, you hummed in response, “Hey, baby.” Any other day, he might’ve assumed he’d done something wrong to cause you to be short with him, but this time he knew. It was what the day had done to you that had caused your sour mood, not caused by the actions of another person. 

Spencer squeezed your hip comfortingly, “How did it go?” He asked, your five minute phone call before the jet had taken off hadn’t left much time for details, just the Reader’s Digest version. 

This time, you set the knife down, laying your palms flat on the countertop and sighing, “Exactly the way we expected it to.” You were disappointed, despite the fact that you’d been given the answer you’d been expecting, you had dared to dream. A mistake, as it turned out. “He’s upstairs in his room. I couldn’t get him to come out for a snack after we got home, but I thought maybe he’d let you in.”

He nodded in understanding, “I’ll go check on him.” He offered, separating himself from you before making his way to the kitchen table, “Hi, Rosie.” 

Your three year old sighed despondently, “Hi, daddy.” Her voice was tired, as if spending the day at preschool had really taken it out of her. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asked, making a quick pit stop to crouch next to her, a small cushion beneath her so she could properly reach the tabletop. 

She pouted down at him, “Math.” 

Her disdain for the subject had become apparent in the weeks since the school year had started, while she seemed to enjoy every other subject that school had to offer, she and math were off to a bad start. Though, calling her homework math was a bit of a reach, all she needed to do was color in the correct number of fruits for each problem. Spencer certainly wasn’t going to be the one to point this out to her. “How about this? What if you finish up your work, and I’ll come back down and check your work before we put it back in your packpack?” 

Rosie beamed at his proper use of the word packpack, nodding excitedly at the offer of having her dad check her homework. She turned back to her worksheet, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Are you gonna see bubby?” 

Spencer nodded softly, “Yeah, I’m gonna go talk to him for a little bit.” 

“Mommy says bubby’s sad,” she told him mournfully. “Can you make him happy?” 

He frowned at the sensitivity of your youngest child, her wish to make everyone happy had a tendency to make him sad. It wasn’t the first time his heart ached at his inability to make the entire world happy, just to put a smile on his daughter’s face. “I’m certainly going to try my best,” Spencer answered, reassuring her that he’d do what he could to make her big brother smile. 

Ruffling her hair, Spencer stood up and walked away, making his way upstairs to James’ room. Unsure of what he was walking into, he paused before knocking on the door. It was silent for a moment, the soft scratching of paper could be heard on the other side before a small voice spoke, “Yeah?”

Slowly, he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open so Jamie could see who was home. “Hey, buddy,” Spencer whispered, his heart breaking at the red-rimmed eyes that stared back at him. 

“Hi,” Jamie said meekly, shoving something behind his pillows before fiddling with the colored pencil in his hand. “Is it dinnertime?” 

Spencer shook his head, walking inside and closing the door behind him, making sure no little siblings would accidentally wander into his room. “Not yet, I just got back though, and I wanted to see you before we had to sit down to eat.” He sat down on Jamie’s bed, leaning against the wall and peeking at the page he was drawing on, “What are we working on?” 

Silently, Jamie handed the paper over, letting his father look at his most recent project, “Scarabs,” Jamie answered, pointing to the one that was still being colored in. “Rosie thought they were scary, but I told her they were rainbow colors,” he explained patiently. “She wants a purple one to put in her cubby at school.” 

He looked around his son’s room, all along the walls were different drawings that he had done over the past few years. His sister’s room had one wall that was dedicated to drawings from her big brother, the fridge was almost solely occupied by his artwork, and each member of the BAU had a specially made drawing for them. Bugs had been his favorite lately, a common interest for seven year old boys, and when he wasn’t chasing his little sister around with pictures of spiders, Spencer found himself in complete adoration of his son’s talent. “Do you remember the word I told you to describe the rainbow scarabs?” 

“Iridescent,” Jamie answered, sounding out the word from memory and pointing to the sticky note that Spencer had made for him, now hanging over his bed in a place of honor. “I wanted to make this one yellow,” he said, pointing to a colorless beetle on his paper, “but the colored pencil is running out.” 

Spencer hummed thoughtfully at the sight of the yellow colored pencil, sharpened into an oblivion, nothing but a nub. “We’ll get you new ones this weekend,” he offered. “We can go to the art store near mommy’s work, and you can pick whichever ones you want.” 

Your son shook his head dismissively, “No, I can just use the crayons.” He pointed to his art supplies, separated by things he was allowed to use in his bed and things that were for deskwork only. Too many sets of sheets had been ruined before you had to put those rules in place. 

“We’ll get you the colored pencils,” Spencer repeated, worry flooding his chest, that Jamie was somehow punishing himself for things outside of his control. 

Jamie nodded, setting down his yellow-green colored pencil and shifting uncomfortably on his bed, “I’m sorry.” 

And there it was, the proverbial shoe that Spencer had been waiting to be dropped. Of course, Spencer already knew what had happened, and there was no reason to make your seven year old recount the events of the day. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Spencer assured him, ruffling his hair softly and silently willing the solemn expression on his son’s face to go away. 

His creative, gentle, caring, perfect son had been taken down by a test result, and it broke his heart that he couldn’t do anything to make it all go away. “Am I stupid?” 

“No,” Spencer answered immediately, nipping any use of the word stupid in reference to his son in the bud. He would never tolerate anything like it. Stupid, dumb, idiot - they’d all be banned words in this household if that was what James needed. “You’re not stupid,” he corrected him, “You have a learning disorder. Being dyslexic doesn’t mean you’re stupid. In fact, I never, ever want to hear you use that word again, okay?” 

Jamie nodded slowly, fully processing his father’s words. “Is that why I can’t read good?” 

He opened his arms for Jamie, letting him climb into his father’s lap like he had when he was much smaller, but Spencer’s arms would always be open for him. “Yeah,” Spencer admitted, “Do you remember when you told mommy and me that when you read sometimes the letters get all mixed up?” 

The seven year old nodded, “Yeah, and we had alphabet soup for dinner.” 

When you first decided to get Jamie tested for dyslexia, you’d sent Rosie to be doted on by the BAU ladies for an evening so you could talk to Jamie in private, and you’d given him alphabet soup because he said that was what his brain looked like. It had given you something to use when you explained dyslexia and that you wanted to get him tested. 

You’d gone in for the test last week, but this afternoon was when you went over the results with the educational psychologist. It had turned out exactly how you suspected, but no number of childcare books could’ve prepared Spencer for how awful it was that his son was being so hard on himself. “That’s all it is, Jamie. Your brain just works differently than other people’s. It doesn’t make you any less intelligent, okay?” 

Jamie didn’t look entirely convinced, “Roger told me that I was dumb when I couldn’t do my reading aloud in class.” 

Spencer’s chest ached, this wasn’t the first time he’d heard Roger’s name in relation to name-calling. He just hoped that was the extent of the bullying, making a mental note to call his teacher tomorrow. “Roger’s wrong, and I’d imagine he has no idea what he’s talking about. You’re not dumb, you’re lightyears from it, really,” Spencer promised him. “You just need a little help figuring out what works for your brain, and mommy and I are going to help you, okay?” 

Nervously, Jamie nodded, “Okay.” He smiled shyly up at Spencer, “You’ll help me read?” 

“Yes,” Spencer confirmed, hoping Jamie knew how much he intended on keeping this promise. “We can read together every night if you’d like. In person or over the phone - whatever you need, lovey.” 

Leaning his head against his father’s shoulder, Jamie sighed in relief, “Thank you.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Jamie’s head before asking, “What were you hiding in your pillows when I came in?” The question made him nervous, afraid of the answer and hoping it was something simple like a snack that he’d snuck from the pantry, which is why he was surprised when Jamie clambered off of his lap, producing a familiar stuffed animal that had been wedged between the pillows. 

The brown bear brought a warm feeling to Spencer’s heart, recognizing it immediately without seeing its face. “I don’t sleep with him every night,” Jamie insisted, feeling the need to defend himself. 

Spencer shook his head, “You can sleep with Bearcia all you need, bubby,” using Rosie’s nickname for her older brother. “And you don’t need to hide him beneath your pillows,” he mock scolded, “He won’t be able to breathe.” 

Jamie looked fondly at the bear, and Spencer wondered if he thought of the same memories as him when looking at the thick black frames, stitched on by his namesake, that so closely mirrored the frames of James’ own glasses. “Then maybe he can stay on my bed again,” Jamie concluded, holding the bear tightly in his arms, just like he did when he was three and the scariest thing out there was thunder and lightning. 

Smiling at the memory, Spencer reached out, gently pushing Jamie’s glasses up on his nose before repeating the motion for Bearcia. “I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Spencer agreed.

[markiplierfan173]

Bride v ugly ass groom

[deadsetobsessions]

Edit: thank you @tetranationaltortoise for pointing out that the Red Spot is on Jupiter instead of Saturn! Fixed it! You’re not nickpicking, you’re providing very appreciated constructive criticism (and a basic fact check I should have done lol) <3

Danny, as usual, hadn’t meant to become the local cryptid. Local being extremely relative, as his locality in this instance is… space.

He just wanted to have some relaxation time. He just wanted to do some homework, chill on Mars or something, and then call it a day.

This hero business was taxing and Danny took his breaks when he could. Take that, work-life balance! Just kidding, Danny had no work-life balance. His life is a mess and he's overworked.

What was it that Superman had said in that one interview?

“Evil never sleeps."

Apparently, that also meant Danny never slept either.

“Hrk!” Danny snorted awake, looking around wildly at the vast expanse of space to see what woke him.

….

Yeah, that’ll do it.

In front of him, merrily floating through space, is the battered remains of what used to be an asteroid and a mecha that’s a weird combination of Gotham’s vigilante hero, Batman, and Metropolis’ Golden Boy, Superman.

The vibrations of the collision had shaken Danny awake.

Danny got up, baffled as hell and half asleep still. He floated to the giant Bat insignia tumbling around, inching closer as he saw the- oh hell, that’s so cool, it’s a plane!- cockpit and the passed out hero inside of it. Danny clicked his tongue, the sound swallowed by the lack of air.

He shoved the plane closer to earth, passing it to a bewildered (and both beat up and stressed out) Superman, who did a double take at the glowing green boy chucking him the Toy-maker Batplane.

Danny had waved, blinked out of visibility, and had gone back to his nap.

After phasing inside the plane and nabbing a batarang from Batman’s pouch, that is. Danny will consider it payment for the clean up service he’d unwittingly signed himself up for.

And so went the first encounter.

——

The second time he met the so called Big Leagues, Danny had just come back from fighting Dan. He wanted a break, dammit, and if staring at Saturn’s gorgeous rings and gaseous formations helped him sleep better, then that’s what’s going to happen.

Then, a similarly green glowing Green Lantern “landed” to where he was floating curled up. Danny knew about Lanterns. Their council often tried to meddle in his court.

“Hello,” the Ring projected its Lantern’s words to Danny’s head. Danny tilted his head without looking at the Lantern. “I’m John Stewart. What are you doing out here, kid?”

Danny thought this guy had a nice, soothing voice. Powerful, as Latern tended to be, but infinitely kind.

Danny decided that this one wasn’t immediately on his shit list.

“Phantom.” He said, and the Lantern asked him to repeat it as the glow of his ring enveloped the halfa.

“Phantom. Are you lost, Phantom?”

“No, just dead.”

John Stewart paused. “…Dead?”

“I’m a ghost,” Danny raised his hands and phased it through the Lantern’s arm.

“Ah,” the man said, flustered. “Right. So… you’re just…”

“Hanging out.” As he talked to the Lantern, Danny had a rather amusing idea. He rotated himself- turned- towards Jupiter and pointed to the Red Spot. “That’s actually my grave.”

John Stewart paused. “I’m sorry…?”

“My grave. Don’t disturb it. It’s rude,” Danny lied through his sharp ghost teeth. “Your council disturbed my grave the last time they stopped by and it took ages to get it back right.”

The green Lantern shield enveloping Danny flickered as John Stewart went through the five stages of grief. To be fair, the council had last visited this solar system... a couple thousand years ago, so John was no doubt rapidly doing some mental math regarding Danny's age.

“The council disturbed your grave…?”

“Not that they knew it, those pretentious weirdos.” Danny pretended to be offended, just to see the struggle on John’s face as he debated defending the council or telling a dead child their grave didn’t matter. Because Stewart was a hero, he went with the latter.

“I see. I am sorry, on their behalf.”

“Eh, whatever. Just make sure they don’t do it again. So… what can that ring do?”

——

"Hi. Could you not litter in space, please?"

Wonder Woman whirled around, sword out and pointed at Danny.

"A... child? Who are you, child?"

"I'm not a child-! You know what, it doesn't even matter. See that?" Danny waved at the pieces of shattered meteor and smashed up alien tech floating outside of the watch tower. "Littering is not cool."

"How did you get in here?"

"I'm Phantom. This is kind of my neighborhood." Danny let his mouth run, sleep deprived and exhausted. "I'm dead, that's how I got in here. Could you not litter in my backyard, please?"

He had better things to do than cleaning after full grown adult heroes.

"Oh, you are the ghost child Lantern mentioned! I see! My apologies, the clean up will be starting in a bit." Wonder Woman slid her sword back into its sheath.

"Great. Nice meeting you. I'll stick around to make sure you young whipper snappers clean up properly."

With that, Danny sunk into the floor. After a moment's deliberation, he decided to take a nap in the floor vent.

——

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Danny jolted awake once more. Ancients, like mentor, like mentee. Robin stared at him, awkwardly wriggling through the floor vents.

"I'm taking a nap here," Danny grumbled. "What are you doing in the vents?"

"Me? What are you doing in the vents? I'm allowed in here!"

"Wonder Woman knows I'm here," Danny replied. She knows... probably? "I'm Phantom."

"Robin."

"So... what are you doing?"

"Knowledge is power," Robin intoned, clearly imitating the Bat.

Danny stared.

"... You're stalking the JL?"

"Information gathering!"

"Stalking," Danny concluded, ignoring Robin's grumble. "Yeah, okay. If you need help, let me know, I guess."

"I don't need help." Robin paused, tilting his head to the side like a particularly curious bird. "Unless you're up for some pranks? Green Lantern's been getting on my nerves lately."

Danny frowned at him. "I like John Stewart."

"You've met- no, not him, the other one."

"Oh. What do I get out of it?"

Robin reached into his belt pouch and pulled out... a bag of marshmallows? How the hell did that-? Ah, right, hammerspace.

"Oh, wait, can you eat this?"

"I'm dead, not tasteless. I love marshmallows, hand it over. I'll help out."

"Deal."

——

"I swear to god, Spooky, there's something in the walls. It's even creepier than you!"

Batman grunted. He'd stop Robin if he went too far and it started affecting Lantern's abilities on the field, but as far as the Dark Knight was concerned, the Green Lantern had it coming. Robins were vindictive on a good day. If Hal hadn't learned that from Dick, then Jason's retaliation was well deserved.

"Oh, maybe it's the ghost!" Hal said, looking around with his ring glowing.

"I thought John said he was a godling?" Diana polished her sword as she looked on in amusement.

"The boy." Batman grunted. "Not human, his pointed ears and green skin is proof of that. Did J'onn say anything?"

"Not yet."

"Whatever he is, he saved Batman. He's welcome in the Tower," Superman tilted back as his hearing picked up on Robin's and Phantom's snickering.