#i just really miss writing

[enbysorcerer]

I miss talking about my ocs all the time. Idk if I want to get back into the rp community, per se, (or if I still remember how to log into that blog; might test it later) but maybe a side blog where I discuss them? Or do I just post more about them on this blog? Idk.

[papermachedragons]

sorry that you've been struggling to write, i know how much that sucks, but don't beat yourself up too much about it <3 will be keeping my fingers crossed that inspiration strikes you soon and take care of yourself in the meantime 💜

Thank you <3

It really means a lot to me. It's hard to sit with it all without automatically defecting to beating myself up about not being able to write / not writing, but I really am trying. Your words mean a lot to me and somehow they help, even though I can't quite put into words how.

I don't know, but just knowing that someone saw my tags to that post about writing (I'm assuming that's where you came from) and paused long enough to drop me this message, it warms my heart and soothes my soul, so, truly, thank you 🌻💛

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Class clown

class clown gyu who for some reason has it out for nerd!reader and finally she gets sick of it and puts him in his place. warnings: dom!reader, sub!gyu, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk, pathetic gyu as always

"What is your problem?" You snap at Beomgyu, the class clown and the bane of your existence. He is always on your case, making fun of you in front of everyone. Today you made a mistake answering the proferssor's question and he immediatley jumped on it, humiliating you in front of the entire class. "Why do you have to mess with me?"

"Because you're fun to mess them." He answers simply, a huge infuriating grin on his face. You look really funny when you're angry."

You don't know what came over you, you're not usually a violent person but seeing his stupid cocky face makes you lose it and you shove him against the wall, slamming your hands on either side of his head to trap him in. "Do I look funny now?

But to your chagrin, he keeps grinning, not phased one bit. "Kinda."

You're so frustrated you could cry. There was nothing you have ever thought of or done that got him to leave you alone. He has been doing this to you for years, even back when you were at school. In fact you had been so excited to go to uni just to escape him, only to see his stupid face at your first lecture and your entire dream of escape came crashing down.

"What? The smart mouth finally has got nothing to say?" He goads when you stay quiet too long for his liking.

Your vision turns red. He makes you so frustrated and pent up, you would do anything to shut him up. Maybe that's why you resorted to doing something crazy.

Grabbing his face, you push your lips against his, intending to strong-arm him into silence. After all if his lips are busy, he can't mouth off anymore.

You don't know how you expected him to react to that--freeze in shock? Push you off? Call you crazy? You don't know but you certainly didn't expect him to almost immediately start kissing you back. It threw you off so hard you actually pull away from the kiss yourself.

But as soon as you pull back, he's running his mouth again. "Damn, nerd, looks like your mouth is good for somethjng other than eating the professor's ass."

"You're so fucking.. ugh!" You groan, shutting him up again. But this time you don't just use your mouth, instead you raise his shirt up, feeling up his body to his nipples and grabbing them between your thumbs and index fingers and pulling on them a bit roughly, making him gasp and break away from the kiss with a wet smack.

"Oh god," He groans, eyes fluttering as you roll his nipples between your fingers.

"You like that, brat?" You spit, happy to finally be getting the upper hand for the first time in your years of being tormented by Beomgyu.

"Fuck yeah." He groans and tries to reach out to touch your own tits.

"Don't fucking touch me, brat." You hiss at him, "If you touch me, I stop."

"You're being such a killjoy." He protests but it's hard for him to keep a steady voice when your fingers are playing with his clearly sensitive nipples like that, and even more so when one of your hands slips into his loose pants to palm his already very hard cock.

"You look like you're enjoying it enough." You mutter, twisting your hand up to the head of his cock, making him moan out.

"Fucking hell...Are you gonna fuck me?" He asks bluntly.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Gyu?" You ask, and any hesitency over the unfamiliar nickname vanishes as he shudders under your touch.

"If you're going to be handling my cock like that then I damn well expect to get a fuck out of it." He replies, still insolent despite his whimpering and frankly slutty moans.

"You're such a little bitch." You chastise, focusing your strokes on the head of his cock, aiming for maximum damage. "You think you deserve to get anywhere near my pussy after the shit you've pulled over me for years?"

He shrugs, trying to affect nonchalance but it's hard to but he's panting like a bitch for you. "Maybe if you get fucked good, you'd be a little less uptight.

Uptight! Just because you care about your future, that doesn't make you uptight. God, you hate him... but damn, does he looks fucking hot falling apart in your hands like that.

"And maybe if you were getting any attention on your cock apart from your own hand, you wouldn't be such an attention seeking slut." You jeer, getting down on your knees. "Now shut the fuck up or you won't get to cum at all."

"What--" He doesn't have time to formulate his question before you pull his pants down and wrap your mouth around his cock, sucking any retort right out of him.

"Oh, fuck, that's it." He arches his back, driving his cock further down your throat which you readily take, to his surprise.

"Fuck, where did you learn to suck dick like this?" He asks through his moans but you don't bother to answer him. You don't owe him an answer, you just want to shut the bitch up.

But Beomgyu is incapable of shutting up. "Have you been sucking dick on the down low? I didn't know the nerd is such a big slut. Thought you were a good girl."

You detach from his cock to retort, tearing a whine out of him which the idiot is too stupid to realize he is the cause of. "You're one to talk. Look how loudly you're moaning as soon as you get your dick wet. What? No one wants to fuck such a loudmouth?"

"Fuck you." He mutters, and you laugh. "You wish, baby." You smirk, bobbing your head down his cock again, going ruthlessly fast and getting the brat to writhe under you.

You think that would be the end of it but Beomgyu could die and his mouth would still be running. "Seriously, who are you fucking? Taehyun? Soobin? Don't tell me it's that manwhore Yeonjun?"

You pull off his dick in frustration, using your hand to jerk him off roughly instead. "Why do you fucking care who I fuck?"

"I don't care." He huffs, arching his back to push his cock further into your grip. "I just know they can't be fucking you good if you're still so uptight all the time. If you want a good time, I could give you the time of your life."

You burst out laughing, obviously bruising the boy's ego in the process but you don't care. And you don't even bother hiding your incredulity. "You? Do you even see yourself? I'm barely even moving my hand and you're fucking it like a dog in heat. Your dick is drooling all down my arm. You look like you're a few pumps away from creaming yourself. I don't think you'd even make it one stroke inside my pussy before you pop like a virgin."

"No, I'm not." He denies, trying to keep his hips still, clearly fighting with himself. "I can fuck you so good you'll screaming my name."

"You can? You can take hot, tight pussy until I cum? You can have me clench around your needy cock without emptying your balls inside me?" You reach your other hand out to cup his balls, massaging then gently between your fingers, making him suck in a shuddering breath. "You can hold back your hot cum until I'm ready to milk your cock? You won't just break and spurt your cum inside me as soon as you put it in?"

"Fuck, fuck, slow down." He gasps, trying to squirm away from your touch but you hold him tighter, jerking him off steadily.

"Why? Are you going to cum just from my hands? That's disappointing. I thought you wanted to give me the fuck of my life?" You cock your head to side, staring up at him condescendingly, making him shudder.

"Baby, please, slow down?"

"Baby?" You laugh. "Now I'm baby?"

"I can't take much more." He was jerking uncontrollably in your grip but you never let go, taking the hand on his balls off to press it against his lower tummy to hold him in place as you continue jerking off his now very red and slippery cock.

"Are you gonna cum?" You ask again and he nods, biting onto his lip harshly. "Yes, can I?"

You have to say you were taken aback at him suddenly asking for your permission to cum. You would have thought the brat would just do it with no warning. "Aw, baby is asking for permission to cum? If I knew it was this easy to get you to behave, I would have... well, actually I still wouldn't have touched you any sooner. But it's good to know how pathetic you really are."

"Fuck you." He repeats, voice strained in his effort to still hold back.

"You want me to say you can cum?" You tease, twisting your hand over the length of his cock slowly.

He nods. "Yes. Need it. Need it."

"Are you going to be good to me from now on?" You ask and he shakes his head. "You're too fun to tease."

"You are too." You counter, slowing your hand down, making him thrust his hips to try to get more of your touch so you smack his thigh in punishment. "Down, boy!"

"Baby, please!" He begs so sweetly, pining you with his pretty, brown eyes, his dick drooling in your grip.

"Are you going to be good from now on?" You tighten your grip around him as you deliberately move your hand up the entire length of his cock, feeling his precum dripping down your arm.

"Yes, yes, I'll be good. I'll be so good." He babbles, and you know he is lying his ass off, just wanting to say whatever would get you to let him cum, but even that makes you feel so fucking hot. To have that effect on your tormentor after all these years is a fucking head rush.

"God, you're a mess." You mutter, quickening your pace over his cock, making Beomgyu panic. "Wait, wait, can I cum? Can I cum?"

It's a little precious how much he panics over cumming without your explicit permission, so much so you decide to just give it to him, wanting to see the brat completely lose it in your grip.

"You can cum, brat." As soon as you utter the words--as if he was really waiting for them--he explodes, spurting rope after rope of cum down your arm and onto your chest.

"Thank you. Thank you, baby." He cries, emptying himself for you until he can no longer hold himself up anymore and collapses to the ground by your side.

But to your surprise and mild horror, Beomgyu takes a minute to calm himself down before he grabs his own cock and strokes himself to full hardness again, bearing through the pain of overstimulation for a reason that only becomes apparent to you after you ask, "What the hell are you doing, Beomgyu?"

"I promised I can fuck you good, didn't I?"

He really is insane.

____________________

[frownyalfred]

Alcohol tips for newbie writers (or non drinkers!):

At bars, people who order “chasers” after their shots are ordering something to wash down the taste of their shot with. This can be juice, soda, more alcohol, or even pickle juice

Hard liquor is generally sold in stores as shots (tiny bottles), fifths, liters, and handles or in ml (50, 100, 200 etc)

Most people can’t finish an entire fifth of hard liquor (vodka, etc) on their own without being very ill

Conversely, many people can finish an entire bottle of wine on their own without being ill

Liquor can be “bottom shelf” or “rail” or “well” -- all synonyms for the cheapest version of alcohol a bartender has. Bars generally keep several “levels” of alcohol stocked

You order a drink with the alcohol first, then the mix -- e.g., a “vodka soda” or a “Tito’s and tonic”

When you “close out a tab”, you pay for all of the drinks you’ve had that night. Either the bartender already has your card (you “opened a tab” earlier) or it was quiet enough that they just kept an eye on you and tallied your bill up at the end

“Doubles” are drinks or shots with double the standard pour of alcohol

In the US, most shots (pours) are 1.5 oz by default. 

Mixed drinks (gin and tonic, vodka lemonade, cosmos, etc) are generally made up of 1-2 shots and a mixer 

If you don’t specify which type of alcohol you’d like in a mixed drink (vodka cranberry, for example) the bartender will put whatever the “house” liquor is -- and this depends entirely on the establishment. A dive bar will pour rail by default, whereas a nicer tavern might make all vodka cranberries with Tito’s

PLEASE TIP YOUR BARTENDERS THEY WILL REMEMBER YOU I PROMISE

[carolinanadeau]

"this female character is underdeveloped" TO YOU. I can read subtext and I know all about her backstory and her rich inner life. also she told me personally

[theeflowerofcarnage]

i love these screenshots ( did not edit any of these but perhaps i should pick up some editing skills)

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[mariatesstruther]

okay but sarah celebrating tommy every year for mother’s day

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 4

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

A sunbeam from the crack in the curtains hit his eyes and he turned over burying his face in his pillow. Belatedly Jason registered that it was at least afternoon because the windows faced west, but it didn’t really matter. He was much too warm, and comfortable to get up. He drifted - things were good. He dreamt of a low rumble in the distance, barely on the edge of his hearing, easing the tightness, turning him liquid.

It was another half hour before he awoke properly, registering his bedroom around him dimly lit by the single sunbeam. He yawned and stretched before getting up. He felt loose and relaxed and as he opened the dark curtains he was greeted by one of Gotham’s rare days of sunshine. A smile tugged on his lips and for a moment he stood there in the sun, letting the warmth soak into his skin. He wasn’t in any hurry.

Down in the street someone held the door open for another whose arms were full of groceries, smiles were exchanged and the person moved on. The sounds of kids playing on the nearby playground reached his ears when he opened the window to air out the room. Somewhere someone practiced the trombone and they weren’t half bad.

Peace settled in his bones, these were his people. Even Crime Alley shone from its good side.

Stretching again, he walked into the kitchen and started rooting around his fridge in search of ingredients for breakfast.

There was a thought nagging at the back of his mind as he cracked three eggs in a bowl, added a small dollop of sour creme and some salt. He paused, musing, something he’d forgotten… He hummed thoughtfully, trying to grasp at the thought, but it just didn’t seem that important and with a shrug he took out a pan turning it on medium heat. On the way to the fridge, he popped two pieces of toast in the toaster. Unlike whatever was nagging he knew he had forgotten the butter - a small piece went into the pan and he left the rest out so he could butter the toast. He rinsed a handful of small tomatoes he set them aside on a plate.

Something happened yesterday, he finally decided, as he walked back over to the open window and cut off a few stalks from the chives plant by the window sill. He paused there for a moment listening; a saxophone had joined the trombone and they were now playing sweet jazz with each other from across the road through open windows. A small crowd had gathered below to listen. Amused, Jason wondered if more musicians would be lured out.

Sizzling from the pan, drew him back to the kitchen.

He set aside the chives, quickly whisked the egg mixture together and poured it in the pan. Grabbing a spatula from the drawer he absently flipped it in his hand as he watched the eggs. Judging the pan had adjusted to the cold eggs he turned the heat on low and scraped across the pan in long smooth moves, freeing the already cooked eggs and allowing the still liquid mixture to sink to the pan.

The toast popped up from the toaster, and it was a matter of moments before he had them buttered and were stirring the eggs again. They had solidified now but were still glistening slightly when he transferred them on top of the bread. He quickly chopped the chives and sprinkled them on top.

Looking at his handiwork he nodded in satisfaction. Time to eat.



A glass of orange juice in one hand and plate and utensils in another he moved to the table. He cut off the first bite of egg on toast and close his eyes in pleasure: Crunchy toast, smooth eggs wiith a hint of salt and just a bit of sharpness from the chives.

It felt like ages since he’d just allowed himself to enjoy the moment like this. It wasn’t like he didn’t cook normally it was one of the things, along with reading, he still enjoyed despite everything. He was always just so busy, always so angry.

Like a click in a lock he suddenly realized what he was forgetting. The pits, the Ghost, the cave and Bruce asking him to stay. The thought was an ache in his chest and he set the fork down rubbing his forehead. He wanted… he wasn’t sure what he wanted. For the longest time he’d convinced himself he was agreeing to working with the bats because it was easier, they’d get less in his way like that. He’d told himself he barely tolerated them. Now, with the pits calmed or whatever they were, he found himself inexplicably fond:

DIck’s persistence even when Jason pushed him away, he always had so much hope, despite Jason giving him absolutely no reason to. Tim who he’d had so much misplaced anger towards, who was so smart, and yet so stupid. Damian, the absolute brat, who behind the arrogant facade cared so much about his family and friends, but was so afraid of rejection.

Bruce was… Bruce was complicated. The pits hadn’t invented his resentment, he had been so hurt to find out the Joker had gone free, that he’d been replaced, that he’d meant so little to Bruce - to his Dad. But without the pits to stoke the resentment, he was just left with this tired old ache. Lashing out had never helped him and he was just exhausted by the constant fighting. He wanted his dad. Not Batman, Bruce, the Dad who would drink his tea in the library while he was reading just to be in the same room with him. The embarrassing proud Dad who would brag about Jason’s grades in the same breath he would brag about Jason nearly stealing the tires of his car the first time they met.

He still had the hurt and the anger, but the longing far outweighed that. He rubbed at his moist eyes. The realization hurt, because he really didn’t know how long this effect lasted or if this realization would stick once the Pits were back - it was just too much to hope this was permanent.

Jason never had that kind of luck.

He needed to talk to the Ghost, but he never appeared so soon again after a theft. For a moment his thoughts dwelled on the device they’d recovered yesterday, some kind of calibrator, if he took it, maybe he could lure him out… but the thought was dismissed almost immediately, even if he took it, he’d have no way of informing the guy he had it.

They really knew next to nothing about the guy.

Jason sighed, and looked down at his now cold breakfast. He started eating again, starvation was something he would never forget and he was not about to waste food. Dwelling on his family, the pits and the ghost, wasn’t getting him anywhere.

It was distressingly easy to push the thoughts aside instead of obsessing with no angry whisper in his ear. Was this how normal people dealt with emotions? Without everything having to be a fight? As easy as deciding he’d dwell on it later when he could actually do something about it?

Helpless laughter bubbled up in his chest. This was so dangerous; it was way too easy to get used to.

next Masterpost for subscription

I feel I need to apologize for the lack of Danny again, but Jason kinda took over and had some more angst to deal with. I promise, next time we’ll get back to Danny’s misery!

[river-of-wine]

The way Hosea talks about Bessie is genuinely one of the sweetest things ever I just. How fondly he still reminisces about her, how dearly he holds her memory. From areas that remind him of her to little things like playing dominoes with Arthur, she’s always on his mind. The last thing he thinks about when he goes to sleep and the first thing he things about when he wakes up. “How a wretched sinner like me could be given someone so perfect, so beautiful to take care of for once in my wretched life, do my best”. God he loved her. He loves her. He cannot rationalise her death, he cannot see any fairness in how she has died and he is still alive. He left the gang for her and it didn’t last but he did leave, he tried to live a normal life for her, and she understood when he drifted back into things. Even with his approaching death, he’s worried that he won’t get to see her again, that she’s gone to heaven and he won’t end up there with her, and even still he says he’s ready for his own death. He loved her and he still loves her and he loves her until his death does find him. Every time he talks about her you can just feel all of that love he still has for her and it makes me so emotional. Old man loves his wife

[wishluc]

I. Miss. Solomon.

When you smile at Solomon, it feels like he's the only one you're looking at.

It isn't true, of course, because Mammon's got an arm around your shoulder, crowing about winning a bet of some kind, and Satan immediately gets your attention with yet another picture on his phone, but it gets too easy to pretend because you continue to sneak looks back at him and share a small, secretive smile with him, and what else would that mean?

The closeness of the demons does little to bother him. He's reassured by the knowledge that when the brothers finally retire for the day and you're allowed to leave, Solomon is the one who comes to walk you back. You believe that it's because he knows you're not the mysterious demon everyone makes you out to be, and that he's there to make sure you get home safe and provide company, but the possessive arm he has around you and the sharp, pointed gaze that linger on whichever of the brothers are at the door to see you off tells an entirely different story. None of them would dare tell you about their suspicions, however, not when it's abundantly clear that you hold him in higher regards to the rest.

Sometimes your smile catches him by surprise. His movements falter, spilling the tea he was pouring out for you the first time he catches you looking up at him with that fond expression, and though you later fuss over him and the hot liquid spilt over his hand, the moment is burned into his memory. It becomes a regular sight, too, as the two of you share a warm cup in Cocytus Hall after a hectic day of you working as an attendant. You smile at him, a lovely turn of your mouth, while recalling the adventures of the day, and Solomon holds the tranquil picture close to his heart.

Admittedly, the domesticity of it all is getting to him. (And to you, if your words are anything to go by). There's something enticing about knowing you'd be there to do the mundane tasks with him; cleaning, grocery shopping, and even cooking, despite how panicked you get sometimes. He starts letting you know when he's going shopping so the two of you can go together, and it quickly becomes a regular, anticipated event. Whether you were shopping for cutleries or groceries or a new pair of matching mugs after Mammon accidentally broke his, you always found a way to make it enjoyable. He thinks that he finds comfort in the normalcy of it all; you quickly stopping him from buying ingredients that are "too adventurous" or the cauldron that you claimed there was no space for. He finds that he likes doing all these activities with you, and most of all likes having you as a constant part of his daily life. He likes waking up to see you starting on breakfast already, insisting that he's been working too hard and that you'd cook instead, he likes the weight of your head on his shoulder during movie nights and he likes the knowing grin you shoot him when you hand him coffee in his mug.

These days, he anticipates seeing you smile at him. You turn to look at him, amused when you boldly tell Mammon that Solomon's your boyfriend (and he beams at you, proud and ecstatic at the blatant lie), and you offer him one of your sly grins when you're planning a way to annoy Lucifer again. The small one when you confess to him that you almost don't want to leave anymore, too, is dear to him. Your awkward, lopsided smiles when caught up in a situation you aren't too pleased about, too, are charming to witness, but the way you run over to him immediately after and push yourself into his side is even more delightful.

But his favorite one yet is the warm smiles that you share with him, when dinner turns out better than you'd hoped or when you successfully cast a spell. It's a heartwarming sight, all bright and unabashed affection, and breathtaking when the light falls on your face just right. None of the others can ever coax out a similar expression, because he's the one you rely on in this timeline, and he's the one that comforts you after a difficult day and promises to protect you if anything were to happen. He's the one you hold on to and call your boyfriend, and he's the one ushering you down the streets of Devildom.

Those, he knows, are special. And only for him.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

[veggiecorner]

Food for thought but what if the house in Hateno was just Zeldas at first? Link wanted to give Zelda a place to stay where she can rest without being reminded of her duty every 5 seconds (which was why staying in Kakariko didn't work) and he knew he's not the type to sit around and rest. He does want to stay by Zelda's side however, but also felt awkward about living with her. So he does this thing where he just checks in with her every few weeks/months but travels around doing tasks for the people. Whenever Zelda wants to travel he's immediately by her side, but once she's back in Hateno he's just "...okay see you later......" and leaves. Zelda wants to tell him to stay a bit longer, but is too uncertain to break that boundary between them. Also she doesn't really want him to feel like he has to stay by her side. She wants him to have his freedom.

But suddenly him being gone for 2 months becomes 6 weeks...then it becomes 1 month...then 2 weeks....then a week...and one day he walks up to Zelda and just says "...can I stay over for the night?"

And so the house in Hateno starts to feel a little less lonely from then on.

[27-royal-teas]

look ive seen a lot of weird takes about the we didn’t start the fire cover because apparently (?) some people are mad (??) because ‘anyone can put together words that rhyme, they should have put the events in chronological order’ (????) and I’ve decided that look, it doesn’t matter if it’s chronological, because this is it. It’s events that matter to this generation, and it SHOULDNT sound exactly like billy joel’s version. they’re not going to be billy joel. NO ONE is going to be billy joel. the point of a cover is to make it your own and by making the events out of order it seems more frenzied and crazy, which, to be honest, the events it covers ARE. it IS crazy. and to end with ‘world trade, second plane’? that is INSANE. I got chills. that is a moment that the people who were alive during the event will remember FOREVER. it literally changed the entire course of history and started a spiral of events not only politically but musically as well, starting in an idea and ending in we’ll carry on. It makes perfect sense to end a song about the chaos of the modern and recent world on an event so defining in people’s- relatively recent- lives. and I saw this pointed out too (I believe by @thekintsugikid) and I wanted to mention it. fall out boy says, ‘we’re trying to fight it.’ In Billy’s version, he said ‘we tried to fight it.’ and look. we are trying. The world is going to shit. We’re all going to die someday, probably in some gruesome way. but we’re trying. we’re trying to fight it. we have hope, this younger generation. we won’t give up. we will survive. persistence, I think, is the biggest part of glory. and so, it just means something to me. it doesn’t have to be in chronological order. it doesn’t have to be perfect. the boys had fun, and that’s what matters, but I really think that the cover does reflect us overall

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Four was honestly surprised how many people were here. It was his first big trip, and it was definitely overwhelming. He was usually a loner, but he had to admit… he was thankful he’d asked a friend to come along.

Legend laughed as he texted someone, face glowing with glee. He elbowed Four mischievously. “We should definitely send pictures to Wars.”

“Is that who you’re texting?” Four asked with a smile, enjoying the cheer from his usually grumpier friend. Legend adored education conferences - his friend was nothing if not a lover of learning and exploring new things.

“Oh absolutely,” Legend replied, showing his phone. “He’s upset because I went to the emergency medicine conference and then went to this one. Personally, I think he’s just jealous because I have a cert he doesn’t.”

“Wait, Wars doesn’t have his CCRN?” Four questioned, confused. He figured Warriors, who had everything in his life in order, would have his critical care nursing certification. It was fairly common for nurses in ICU and ED settings.

“Nope!” Legend quipped with delight, obviously ecstatic that he had something over the military nurse.

“Okay, but important question: where are we going to get dinner?”

“Somewhere it doesn’t cost half our paycheck.”

Four glanced around at the skyscrapers. “Uh… not sure we’re going to manage that. I didn’t think the Hebra Mountains had cities like this.”

“Well, then we can contemplate Brugada Syndrome and complicated EKG rhythms while we starve,” Legend supposed.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Four laughed. “This is a trip, we shouldn’t worry about the cost too much.”

”We don’t make Time’s salary.”

“But we make decent salary.”

Legend bit his lips, stubborn. Four narrowed his eyes analytically. “This isn’t about how much the food costs; it’s because you’ve blown your budget on coffee, isn’t it?”

His friend immediately flushed, guilty as charged. “They charge ten rupees for coffee! Ten!! This place is ridiculous!”

“I told you your caffeine addiction would come back to bite you someday,” Four smiled. “Or, well, more so than it already has.”

“I swear, if you bring up the SVT episode one more time—”

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 20

PREVIOUS

FF had watched more than a few self-defense videos when he believed that Andrew Minyard was looking for a dark alley to stab him in. He had learned how to turn the attacker’s momentum against them. Had learned about disarming the person trying to stab him.

He’d even had Matt teach him a few punches claiming that it was for the dust-ups that tended to happen on the court.

He, naturally, does not use any of that knowledge because his mind immediately reverts into Lizard panic mode the moment Jackson Plank takes another step forward with a knife (HUGE. Is it wild that he is thinking about Crocodile Dundee right now?)

“If you come quietly you won’t get hurt.” Jackson says and he reverts to who he is as a person and he freezes. His bravery was used up maybe it was only ever tied to great pump up songs and now in the silence of the alley he is back to being Stone-Faced Smith.

“You’re going to dial up Wesninski and if you don’t say EXACTLY what I tell you to then I’m going to have you SING in agony.”

Y’know in that moment he stops thinking about Crocodile Dundee.

He thinks about a movie that is far more ingrained in his mind than any number of self-defense videos or one-off lessons with Matthew Boyd where he’d been trying not to flinch. A movie he had watched in better days with his family and had been a favorite of his Grandma’s (and his).

He thinks about Miss Congeniality.

Sandra Bullock as Gracie Hart has taught him everything he ever truly needs to know when he takes a step back and Jackson comes at him.

He strikes right at Jackson’s nose with the palm of his hand.

“SON OF A-“

The knife is dropped and FF kicks it under a dumpster.

FF grabs the single weapon he has on his person.

The McDonald’s Megamind Happy Meal Light Effects Brainbot.

He points the LED light straight at Jackson’s eyes and just like Aaron in the car on the way back, “Shit, that’s bright!” And now completely blinded by a combination of watery eyes and LED McDonald’s toy he proceeds to SING just as Gracie Hart had taught him.

S - Solar Plexus. He punches Jackson there as hard as he can.

I - Instep. He smashes his booted foot down on the inside of Jackson’s shoes (who the fuck wears LOAFERS to a kidnapping?)

N - Nose. He’d feel bad about hitting it again if Jackson wasn’t y’know…a hitman out to hurt Captain Neil.

G - Groin. He may have to give himself just half a second to apologize to all of mankind for what he is about to do. His step brothers had definitely kicked him in the groin plenty of times to try and get a reaction. It’s an art to not let anyone know that your ball has retreated up into lower intestine. He kicks Jackson as hard as he can (collegiate athlete) with the boots that Nicky had let him borrow. He is right on target with the toe of his shoes.

Jackson goes down.

The next thing he does is not something Gracie Hart had taught him but does still feel like the right thing to do in this situation. He kicks Jackson in the head and the man goes limp.

If FF throws both hands up in the air and lets out a “I am Miss Congeniality!” Victory cry into the alleyway well no one is around or awake to know that.

He feels like he deserves a sash and a crown and some flowers.

He looks down at Jackson and then over at the van the man had hopped out of. He was definitely PLANNING on kidnapping Captain Neil so he probably has like…some kind of restraint?

Well, better to completely subdue this guy before he tries to figure out the game plan for Romero. Wait, what’s that next to the Crocodile Dundee knife, are those...?

***

Roland is calling for a second time.

Andrew had let it go to voicemail the first time. It was usually Roland complaining about Nicky, Aaron, or Kevin doing something exceptionally stupid in their inebriated states. They have a system. Roland will call and leave a voicemail detailing the dumb shit his family has gotten up to and then he’ll let it go.

If Roland calls twice then there’s an issue.

Arm still around Neil’s shoulders he answers the phone, “What.” He asks.

“You need to help your new friend. There’s some guy following him, he’s armed and dangerous and looking for someone to grab to get Neil’s attention. He tried to lead the guy outside but he’s standing watching it for now so there might have already been someone waiting?” Roland gets out in a rush and Andrew is up and moving towards the stairs even as he’s closing the phone to disconnect the call.

Neil, of course, is right on his heels. “What is it? Did something happen?” Neil asks and they are up the stairs and pushing past Frank and his stupid pineapple shirt. Andrew spots Nicky and he spots Aaron.

“Get Nicky and Aaron somewhere safe. I need to go help Smith with something.” He says because whoever this is wants Neil and Andrew will not let Neil get within grabbing distance and won’t mention it. Neil, blessedly, does what Andrew asks without question.

Andrew scans the crowd and finds a man whose gaze goes between his phone and the back door.

A face that Andrew had memorized.

One of Nathan’s surviving men.

In the same Zip Code as Neil.

And that man has the audacity to still be breathing.

He looks and Nicky and Aaron (drunk, drugged, and useless because Andrew had wanted them to be) are with Neil and Roland is directing them to the backroom.

Andrew goes out the alley and can feel Romero’s eyes on him.

He’s prepared for a lot of things to see out in that alley. He’s angry that FF hadn’t just come down and grabbed him and Neil (he does not need TWO martyrs) and he wants to know what the fuck FF was thinking (or if he was thinking at all). Even with that anger he does not wish to see FF’s blood spilled all over an alleyway because Andrew’s family needed to be protected and FF was the only one sober enough and aware enough to do it.

He knows what Nathan’s men are capable of.

Knows that Romero was one of Nathan’s best so if there is someone out in the alleyway then it’s likely one of his other bests.

FF doesn’t even know how to use a knife. He had asked and FF had firmly declined every time Andrew had brought it up after the first fainting incident. “I’m not interested in learning that. No.” Had been the standard response.

He knew FF had at least taken a lesson or two from Boyd on throwing a punch considering the one he shot out a week ago when a Striker came at him after the third time FF intercepted a pass.

Still, Andrew had not anticipated coming out into the alleyway and finding an unharmed FF securing an unconscious Jackson Plank’s arms behind his back with fuzzy handcuffs.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks and FF looks up at him with a flush on his cheeks.

“It’s not my fault this is a weird sex alleyway! They’re the first thing I found on my way over to the van to look for actual restraints.” FF says immediately and Andrew almost laughs at the insanity of it. “Wait, where’s Captain Neil?” FF looks around nervously.

“He’s with Aaron and Nicky in the backroom. Roland gave me your S.O.S.” Andrew says even as he quickly makes his way away from the door and towards FF. “Romero is watching the door. Let’s give him a reason to come out.” He says going over to Jackson and when he rolls the man over he raises an eyebrow at the piss stain on his pants and the blood dripping down his nose.

He looks to FF who resolutely does not look back at him.

It’s a story he’ll get out of his friend eventually. Looks like FF didn’t really need those knife lessons. Something settles a bit more in Andrew, it’s nice to have someone else in their group that could handle themselves in a fight.

Andrew finds a phone and FF rolls Jackson back onto his stomach, “He could choke on his own blood.” He shrugs and Andrew wouldn’t care if Jackson choked on his own blood in fuzzy handcuffs in a back alley but he can understand FF not wanting a murder charge.

Andrew looks at the phone and sees the the swipe pattern clear as day. It takes him two tries to get the order right but then Jackson’s phone is available for him to get over to the texting app.

The texts he reads there make him angry. There were a lot of plans on what the two of them were going to do to Neil before his body was offered up to a different crime family to show that Romero and Jackson had no loyalty left to the Wesninski line.

He types out a text to Romero that will have the jackass come out thinking everything had gone well and they had two hostages. He looks over to FF, “You ready for round two?” He asks.

“There isn’t a tap out option right?” FF asks and Andrew laughs at the joke.

Always cool under pressure it seems.

“No.”

“Then yeah, I guess just hit send.” FF says with a shrug.

Andrew does just that.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Didn’t wanna leave ya’ll hanging on that particular cliffhanger for too long ;)

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson​ @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​ @spencellio​ @adinthedarkroom​ @harpymoth​ @sufferingjustalilbit​ @anxietymoss​ @oddgreyhound​ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​ @isoldescorner​ @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it  right but you didn’t  get a notification there might be something  switched around in  your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

Every day I wake up, remember that a Miss Holloway musical HAS ALREADY BEEN WRITTEN, and feel myself go feral.