#i only have doodles to throw at yall

[ratdadarts]

Sleepy boys and Tubbo!

(mainly highlighter)

[evieskiesss]

PSYCHO KILLER- TOM KAULITZ

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎: 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮, 𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜

a/n: HAPPY MF HALLOWEEN SLUTS. I HOPE YALL LIKE THISSSS

-

"have you heard?" Lana asked in a whispered tone. You turned to her, eyebrows furrowed, "heard what?"

She jerked her head toward the crowd of people in the hallway. "Otto from math class was found dead yesterday." Your head whipped toward her, your jaw dropping. You slowly walked further into the school hall, people crowded in front of a locker.

Piles of flowers, letters and writings, all surrounded by the photo of Otto. Your heart sank, you stood in front of the locker as you got a clear view.

You weren't close friends with Otto, you two only occasionally spoke during your math class, especially since he sat directly next to you. "shit... i spoke to him yesterday.."

Lana raised her eyebrows, a slightly sorry expression on her face. The small interaction between you two from yesterday played in your mind. You bit your lip, staring at the photo of him. His pearly smile showing, the small chip in his teeth evident. It was from a small accident he had when he was little.

The bell rang, indicating the next class had started. "shit," Lana cursed under her breath. She grabbed your wrist, pulling you along, "let's go!" You silently ignored her, your eyes not leaving the boy's image as she pulled you away.

You both silently entered your math class, sneaking your way into your seat, setting your bag down. You look over to the seat next to yours, it was empty. You bit your lip again, fingers gently reaching over to his empty spot.

Your fingers grazed his small doodles on the table, suddenly, a hard smack of a book bag on the table startled you. Your body jumped in its seat, your arm retracting itself immediately. A laugh came from above you, you looked up to see the familiar boy.

Tom snickered, now taking his bag off the table as he plopped himself into the ,what used to be, empty seat. "scared ya?" he smiled, his black piercing perfectly adorning his lip.

You chuckled, hand on your chest as your heart beat out of your chest, "yeah," you breathed out with a flat smile. "you've been really easy to scare lately," he smiled cockily, adjusting himself in his seat.

     "yeah.. i guess it's just with what's going on lately," you chuckled nervously, looking down at your hands. You shook your head, "i don't know who could even do something like that.. you gotta be some type of... psycho killer to do that."

    His head whipped towards you, staring. His tongue poked through his cheek, "psycho killer?"

You turned to him, nodding. "yes. you've got to be some type of insane to do that.."

Tom stayed silent, his tongue now playing at his tongue ring, "yeah.. i guess you do," he agreed, a strange smile on his face . Something about his tone was just.. off..

Nine victims. Nine people dead in the past 3 weeks. All found stabbed, bloodied & with their mouths wide open. The killers signature was established right after the second murder, using the victims blood to write next to them, GHOSTFACE, which has been used throughout every single one.

Police have gone insane trying to find this masked killer. Some witnesses have reported having seen the killer, dressed in a costume of the infamous Ghostface from the well-known Scream movies.

The murders stayed on your mind constantly. Paranoia consumed you everywhere you went, whose to say you weren't going to be the next victim?

The worst part, was that you knew all of them.

You now always looked behind you, to your sides. One earphone out of an ear, just to hear if someone was near you.

And even then, you were startled completely when Lana threw herself onto your back. "hello!" she squealed, throwing herself on you. You grunted, nearly falling forward, "fuck- lana! i almost just fucking elbowed you in the face!"

Lana laughed, rolling her eyes. "whatever," she smiled. She looked around her for a moment, making sure no one was listening. "haven't you heard?" she asked, her toothy grin showing.

Your heart sank, "..another murder?"

She made a face, hitting your shoulder. "no, silly! gosh- you with those murders. anyway, Hänsel is going to ask you out!" she whispered harshly, shaking your arms with excitement.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "what?". She nodded rapidly, chewing her gum, "mhm! i overheard it during physics and wait- wait, now he's coming!"

You freaked out by her excitement, her constant shaking of your arms now causing nervousness to bubble. You heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You turned to see Hänsel. He was tall, pale, his hair was a messily straight, light brown. Rosy cheeks & a broad nose. "hi," he smiled.

You smiled back, "hi." He bit his lip for a moment, "not to sound weird but, are you doing anything special tonight?". His eyes wandered down, leaving your eyes to meet your cleavage.

He shamelessly stared, then let his gaze wander downward again. You felt a tight squeeze on your wrist, you could recognize Lana's touch even with your eyes closed.

"uh- no, i'm not," you chuckled. His eyes snapped back to yours, "great. i'll send you my address," he smiled again before walking off.

You turned back around, a large smile on Lana's face. She jumped with excitement, "you have a date tonight!". You chuckled, "yeah, i guess."

From the corner of your eye, a tall figure moved around, cutting down the corner from the hall. You only were able to catch a glimpse of what you could only find familiar from the person, black braids.

       You turned back to look at yourself in the mirror, "i don't know, lana! what if he's not what i think he's like?" you pouted, sitting on the edge of Lana's bed. She groaned, throwing a sock at you.

    "oh, shut up! he asked you out for a reason. plus, haven't you kinda had a thing for him since like.. middle school?" she asked obviously referring to the many times you'd commented on his attractive appearance.

    You rolled your eyes, "well, yeah.. but.. i don't know," you rubbed your nape. "i just... feel weird," you mumbled, rubbing your own arms. She groaned louder, "gosh- here you go again with these murders!" she complained.

    You sighed, looking around the room to avoid her scolding. "you've gotta let that go! i know, it's bad- really bad.. but, c'mon! you can't let that just control your life!"

    You looked back down to your hands, chipping at the fresh nail polish. She wasn't wrong. Ever since the murders started, you really let yourself go. You never went out, only stayed in, refused to go anywhere that wasn't crowded (for more witnesses).

"just let loose, that's not a crime. now let's go, we have 15 minutes to get you there," she smiled, grabbing your bag. You sighed, following her out the door.

It didn't take long for you to arrive at Hänsel's house. The front porch light was on, everything around was quite quiet. The house was slightly isolated, you didn't exactly expect for him to leave near a woody area.

The sounds of bushes rustling filled your ears, the tree leaves falling as the wind blew harsher, a natural whistle coming from its strong blowing. The door opened, a smiley Hänsel standing, "hey," he stepped aside, letting you in.

"hi," you chuckled, stepping in. He closed the door, locking it behind him. The house was dimly lit, it was strangely cold.. and oddly quiet. "we can head to my room, I put a movie on for us," he took your hand, leading you.

You nodded, swallowing as you followed him. You entered his room, it wasn't as dark. His lights were low , the bed done, along with a couple of snacks.

He sat down on the bed, patting the place next to him as he scooted over. "i hope you like Bride of Chucky," he joked, turning it on. You sat down next to him, smiling, "i love that movie."

"so do i," he replied, dimples showing. He was attractive, his lips very tempting as he licked his lower lip. His hands managed to travel around your shoulders, holding you close as the movie progressed.

It started off at a distance, both of you slowly gravitating toward each other until your bodies were pressed against the other. It felt nice. He was warm, the snacks were yummy & the movie was great.

But again, there was a strange feeling that you couldn't shake off. Especially, with the occasional floor creaking. You'd whip your head each time towards the door, but nothing. The paranoia began building up on you.

The tapping on his window, which he explained to be the tree branches. The creaking, the loud gushes of wind, so many things began to build up on you, even, the hand of his that began to travel down.

His hand left your shoulder, slowly inching down to the top of your breast. His breath slowing as you could feel his lustful gaze from the corner of your eye. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, thinking that if you'd ignored it, it would just go away.

It didn't work, as you can feel his breath grow closer, nearly hitting your ear directly. You cleared your throat, sitting up abruptly, ripping his hand away. "where's your bathroom?" you asked, not looking at him.

He was taken aback, and to say the least, disappointed. He didn't respond for a moment, bringing his arm back to his side. "door to the left," he mumbled, clearly upset.

You hopped on your feet, leaving his bedroom and entering the first door to your left. You locked it, your hands finding the door as you placed them flat. You steadied your breathing, "fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck."

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths. You should've known he wasn't looking for a romantic night. You looked at yourself in the mirror, staring at your reflection. "you're okay.. you're okay," you comforted yourself.

You gulped, turning the water on as you collected some wet water to pat on your neck. You swiped some water across your chest, trying to freshen yourself up.

The sounds from the movie were loud, Chucky's cackling heard from the bathroom as what you presumed to be, stabbing sounds. You shook your head again, fingers tightly gripping the sink. "get yourself together. it's fine, it's fine. just tell him you're feeling sick."

You took another minute, collecting yourself & your thoughts, rehearsing your line over & over again. You brushed your fingers through your hair before taking a deep breath, & leaving the bathroom. Your steps were loud compared to the quiet home, the movie loudening as you grew closer to his room.

The door was slightly opened, only an inch or two from it being completely shut. You looked at your feet, pushing the door open before taking your steps inside. "Hänsel, I think I should just go-"

You stopped in your tracks, your voice caught in your throat as you took in the scene in front of you. Hänsel laid on his bed, sprawled out in a starfish position. His sheets were soaked in blood, wide holes in his shirt. His eyes were wide & bloodshot, deadly staring back at you with no life.

His mouth was wide open, blood pouring out as he gurgled. He coughed, tongue shaking as he tried to speak. Blood splatters painted his walls, drops of it all across his face. His shirt was slightly lifted, you only caught a glimpse of the numerous deep wounds that oozed red liquid.

You screamed, an ear piercing, chilling scream. You stumbled back rapidly, eyes never leaving his wounded body until you collided with something harsh. You whipped around.

"boo," he smirked. You shrieked, stumbling back. He laughed at your reaction, "you really are getting easier to scare." Your breathing became heavy, your head spinning as you couldn't believe it. It was Tom.

    The thick black cloak covered him entirely, the bloodied Ghostface mask in his right hand. He held the bloodied knife in his left, head cocking to the side. "what, honey? don't tell me you're scared," he said pouting, fauxing a sympathetic tone as if he were talking to a child.

      He took a step closer to you, to which you stepped back. Your whole body trembled with fear and confusion. "T-tom.. h-how could you?" you asked, hurt in your voice. The boy you'd known for so long, was the killer.

     He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "you still don't get it, do you?" he asked, tapping his knife to his forehead. He took a step closer, his hand firmly holding your arm, digging into your flesh to hold you still.

    He pulled you close to him, you winced as his tight grip never faltered. "honey, i did this for you. for- for us," he explained, a smile on his face. You felt sick to your stomach at his tone, at his wicked smile.

      He chuckled as your face clearly showed your struggle to comprehend, your arm still trembling. "gosh, my love. i know you're not that dumb," he cooed, his hand loosening on your arm but now cupping your cheek.

     He chuckled as he explained again, "honey, all you had to do was not talk to all of these guys but.. look what happened," he turned you around, making you face the dead boy.

     Your breathe got caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. You shook your head, not wanting to believe he was dead. dead because of you.

    You choked out a sob, backing up, attempting to leave the room. Your back collided with his chest, your own heaving as you let the tears leave. He wrapped his arm around you lovingly, moving your hair to one side, leaving it bare for him.

     He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent. His nose nudging against your neck caused goosebumps to rise all over your body. His embrace oddly soothed you.

      He kissed your neck softly, his lip piercing gently grazing the sensitive skin. "did this all for you, baby," he whispered sadly. You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly. "why? why?!" you shouted.

    He turned you around again, making you face him. He smiled wickedly, his eyes soft on you. "because you're mine," he held your jaw, "nobody belongs with you except me."

     Your glossy eyes stared back at his, your breath steadying as you took in his words. His fingers were coated in blood, smearing it on accident across your face & clothes. He smiled softly, "c'mon honey, let's get you cleaned up," he whispered.

      He pulled your hand to the bathroom, quickly swooping you onto the sink. By wetting some paper, he wiped your face gently, making sure to rid you of another boy's blood. You were silent, staring at his face intently as you watched him be so loving after murdering someone.

     He'd smile at you occasionally, obsession coursing through his veins. He slipped the bloodied papers into his pocket, sighing as his hands now held your thighs. His face was so close to yours, his breath fanning against your face.

     "i knew you'd be so understanding," he sighed happily. You stared back at him, silent, mouth slightly agape. He held your head, pressing his lips softly against your forehead. His thumbs rubbed your cheekbones,

    "i love you... you're never leaving me."

[ecoamerica]

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[snailsdraw]

[Start ID: 7 pages of HLVRAI narrative doodles following an interaction between a younger Bubby and Dr Coomer about the moon.

It is a late night at the Black Mesa facility in the year 1973. Bubby, now a scientist, is taking a load off outside by the train tracks within the facility, his legs dangling over the edge while his face is tilted to the sky with an unreadable expression. "Ah! There you are, Dr Bubby!" calls Dr Coomer, walking up from behind him. He continues, "May I ask what you're doing out here? Your presence was requested at the High-Energy Particle Labs about an hour ago, or so I've heard." Bubby seems to rub at his eyes before turning his face sideways to throw a glance at the approaching fellow scientist. He smirks: "Oh Harold, when have I ever let those idiots get their way? Besides, I haven't failed to deliver even when 2 hours short. I'd say they're just too intimidated by my Intellectual Prowess to trust me with it." Dr Coomer stoops down to sit down next to him, humming in a humouring manner.

"Bubby, I do recall you only learning how to use the lavatory a month ago-" Dr Coomer begins to say, before Bubby interrupts him. "Look, I was created to be a scientific genius, not a toilet user," Bubby retorts. Not quite paying attention to his response, Dr Coomer hums absentmindedly, gaze turned to the full moon hanging above them. Out here, the dark open sky is speckled with pinprick stars and graced by passing clouds. Dr Coomer comments: "The Moon is quite beautiful tonight, isn't it?" "Well, I'm not surprised. It usually is," replies Bubby. "What would be nice is to see it up close..." Sensing hidden melancholy in his words, Dr Coomer steals a sideways look at him.

Bubby is quiet for a bit, face still turned to the moon. "…I was always going to find a way onto that rocket, you know?" Bubby finally says, quietly. "Leave it to the labcoat bastards to fuck that up…keeping me locked up in that damn tube a year too damn long." Dr Coomer looks away, feeling a smidge guilty at being a "labcoat bastard" himself in Bubby's words. The year is 1973, a year after NASA's last lunar mission.

They sit in silence, until Bubby feels an elbow nudging at him. "Now, now, that's not the Dr Bubby I've come to know," Dr Coomer says encouragingly, having recovered from his momentary guilt, "Look with me, won't you?"

"The Moon is still up there, isn't she? In all her glowing radiant glory," says Dr Coomer, gesturing to the moon with an open palm. Bubby looks at him curiously as the stout man continues: "And as long as she's still up there," - and Dr Coomer punctuates his sentence by poking a finger to Bubby's chest - "I believe you will find a way to meet her."

Dr Coomer retracts his hand, keeping his other palm held open towards the moon. He quirks an eyebrow at Bubby, grinning: "Afterall, would a "scientific genius" be handicapped by the mere discontinuation of the Apollo Project?" Bubby is speechless for a moment, taking in Dr Coomer's words in subtle awe before a smug grin stretches across his cheek. "Oh, of course not!" Bubby says confidently, a glint bouncing off his glasses as he adjusts them smartly, "What do they take me for? A fool?"

Dr Coomer smiles warmly at Bubby in amusement as Bubby continues arrogantly: "I'll be up there in no time! In fact, why stop there? I'll go even further!" "I'll be the first terrestrial being to see the universe in its entirety!" Bubby's words echo in Dr Coomer's mind somewhere in the future, when the elderly scientist floats alone in a dark void of space above everything he had once thought to be real. Looking down on the now small piece of railway area he'd just been standing on with the rest of the Science Team, his doubtless reply to Bubby back in 1973 rings hollowly in his mind. "I'm sure you will, Bubby."

End ID.]

I had to split the Boomer thing into two because the ID would been even longer if not.

Yall have @ves-doodles to thank for introducing me to the Saturn V rocket.

[Link to Part 1.] <<

[asherashedwings]

THROWS THIS CRACKSHIP AT YALL AND RUNS AWAY

Idk man, it just randomly came to me one night and I got way too attached.

I call them ShockingNews.

I only have shitty doodles of them

Guys I think about them a normal amount

I even drew doodles of them on Tom’s ref, gUYS I SO NORMAL-

Also Tom re-redesign reveal, woahhhhh

[turtlesundaes]

MARCH FOR RAPH DAYS TEN, ELEVEN AND TWELVE !!!!

Completely copied and pasted from my notes so you guys can have some cringe ramblings :>

———

SO… WE ALL REMEMBER MARCH FOR RAPH…

And I sort of got grounded…ish..

So instead of actually doing the prompts like we’d normally do- (drawing, writing, etc.) -we will rant about the topic instead because depression sucks but I still really want to do this !!! :>

I will be letting my mind wander so I will probably get off topic but I try my best.

Also some of these might become actual fanfics (???)

And it will all be posted within the same five minutes because why not.

DAY 10. Bowling with Casey

I did start drawing this one and it was gonna b a bunch of Raph and Cassandra doodles bc I had done Casey jr. for day six but generally they would be SO chaotic.

I totally see Raph having to explain what bowling even is to Cass at first (bc yk I don’t see her knowing much bc of being in the foot clan that is literally just a cult with ninja skills- I do see her knowing hockey tho from her childhood bc I don’t think she was born into the cult but just been in it from a super young age like six or something? yk what I mean??) but once she gets it she will absolutely demolish!!!

Like as in the bowling ball won’t even touch the floor because she throws it just perfectly.

When I think of Raph bowling I instantly think of him using baby rails and it TAKES ME. But I do think he would be decent at it, not the best in the family but also not the worst. (no baby rails required)

They would be super loud the whole time though, like, 100% would be kicked out b4 they finish the game so every turn matters bc they go off whatever score they had before getting kicked out.

They would yell a bunch of catchphrases and trash talk basically but Cass probably would curse very loudly out of habit and that’s like, the main reason for them getting kicked out.

Raph wouldn’t mind the getting kicked out part (cause I totally see them doing this on the regular so he’s used to it) but the cursing will be only a slight annoyance. (Just cause of how LOUD Cass would be not anything against the girl honestly he just gets embarrassed)

I see Raph using curse words but ONLY when he’s alone with Cass just cause it feels normal with her but even then it’s still a rarity.

They would totally travel from place to place after getting kicked out though, then tally the points from every place and loser hosts the next outing.

DAY 11. Favorite novel

In cannon his favorite novel is obviously Jupiter Jim or something but I’ve seen so many people saying Percy Jackson and I find that hilarious.

I never read much Percy Jackson (my brother is trying very hard to get me to and I probably will… soon enough-) I did read the first book, the sun and the star, saw some of the movie aaaaand I think like two episodes of the new series ???

But as we know the guys LOVE sci-fi so the whole gist of Percy Jackson isn’t too far off from Raph’s liking me thinks.

But personally I think Raph would ADORE the Wings of Fire series (if we’re gonna get all projecting here, as per usual /pos)

Like think about it !!! Cool mystical creatures, mystery, cool diverse magic AND THE LORE ?!?!?! Also the fact that’s theirs like sixteen books (???) not Including the many spin-offs and side stories- (I have no idea what the average number is for a large series so that’s a lot for me :^) oh! And the graphic novels!!

He would so relate to Clay and think his fireproof scales are so cool. I see so many similarities. He would match his brothers with the MC’s (Mikey with Sunny, Donnie with Starflight, Leo with Tsunami) ((I am so not saying this bc I’ve done it myself-)) GOSH HE WOULD TOTALLY MAKE FAN FICTION AND HAVE LITTLE NOTEBOOKS DEDICATED TO HIS HEADCANNONS AAAAAAAAAAHHH !!!1!!1!1!!!111!

In conclusion he would be a huge geek about it all (he would rope Mikey in bc YALL-) and Mikey would make them cool cardboard wings. The end :]

DAY 12. Stir Crazy

I realllllllllyyyyyyy wanted to draw this one with Mikey and Raph in the kitchen but alas.. 😔

But yes Raph can coooook!!! 🔥🔥🔥

Not actually though. What I see in my very good vision is Raph helping Mikey out in the kitchen. Specifically, stirring.

I’d think that after the invasion Raphs motor skills in general would need improvement. This is not based on anything actually scientific I just have a ✨feeling✨ that after his whole kraang-ified ordeal he would have trouble with knowing he was in control (as most have headcannoned yes, but I like to think of mine as slightly different :p) his arm and eye and insert other places he was kraang-ified that I don’t remember here, would be significantly impacted from this worse than his not kraang infected side.

Like he would have a lazy eye, his arm would twitch/spasm and/or that whole side of his body would get pins and needles or just go numb at times.

But even then it would take a long and I mean LONG time for him to even get to that point. Before that it’s going to be even worse, like, being temporarily paralyzed and/or he would have to learn how to move that side of his body all over again.

This gives us Leo and Raph learning to move again bonding, your welcome.

But I’m not that evil to actually make him forever paralyzed, even if it was just the arm. (I’m too much of a wuss 😔)

The other side of his body would also take time to move again but that’s like a few hours compared to the months of work Raphs gonna have to put into his other side.

I don’t care that he bounces back immediately in the movie that is going to be labeled adrenaline. Also that one scene where Mikey and Donnie get thrown and Leo’s all like “go for them!! 🥺” and Raph falls on his side for a second and his arm is limp before running to them.

That split second scene is basically the whole reason why this headcannon exists.

BUT BACK TO THE PROMPT !!! :D

During healing Raph would do motor skill practice with Mikey aka baking cause Raph loves to lick the batter of the spoon when their done and stirring helps his arm. He would also flip pancakes maybe but I don’t see him doing anything like measurements cause it’s Mikey’s whole thing to cook but he helps keep the place clean :]

———

Anywizle, my apologies for missing a few days and coming back with a messy rant- but it was fun so who cares!

So buh-bye! Have a good night and/or day! It may be possibly impossible but possibly I will see you tomorrow!

:>

[scatterbrainedbot]

Rat Sons AU: Character Introductions

Hamato Tang Shen

(aka the love of my life)

more ramblings & doodles:

(so do yall remember how in the 03 series Tang Shen was kinda just like a passing thought with no like actual characterization besides 'is pretty' and 'dies'?? and that both the boys she grew up with fell in love with her despite being raised as siblings?

yeah we're ditching that)

meet Hamato Tang Shen, official adopted daughter of Hamato Sho (and notably his only child.) Shes an absolute mountain of a woman, buff as all get out, stubborn and quick with a comeback, and a fully trained master of ninjutsu and the mystic arts.

Despite the death of her biological father when she was five, Tang Shen's childhood was largely a happy one. Hamato Sho, being a friend of her fathers, brought her to his ancestral home in the mountains after the tragedy. Sho did his best to nurture and encourage her, in all the ways he felt his own childhood lacked— with kindness and humor, free of any burdens of destiny or namesakes.

Of course, being raised by a the snarkiest old man alive who also had a major problem with authority, Tang Shen was perhaps a bit too bullheaded a child for most of her peers growing up. She didnt mind much — the Hamato farm was home to so many loud and opinionated critters, she rarely felt lonely at all. She loved spending time with the animals, and spoke to them constantly. Especially Yoshi, the family's pet Spurred African Tortoise, who they nicknamed "Splinter" after Tang Shen made a friend at school with the same name and the confusion of it all got old. She also took to calling the tortoise Jiji, as he was even more an ancient old man than her father.

By the time Tang Shen was approaching twenty, she had settled quite happily into the life she had on the farm, content with the company of her father, their animals, and, on more days than not, Yoshi, her cute best friend (/boyfriend??).

Unfortunately, no matter how hard they tried, the Hamato family never could escape destiny for very long.

lol this is way too much for a character that is mostly ever gonna be seen in sporadic flashbacks but yall i love her sm u dont understand

did u notice its all past tense :(

[rat sons masterpost] [more Hamato family lore]

(easier to read/separated contents below the cut! (super long))

HAMATO TANG SHEN

Page 1:

Pronouns: she/her

color motif: forrest green

Born in China, moved to Japan ~age 5, moved to New York State ~age 28

Daughter of a badass mystic warrior (a Guardian?) who was a close friend of Sho

Taken in by Sho after her bio father was killed in some major important mystic conflict (Sho later formally adopted her)

She grew up on the Hamato's familial land on the outskirts of a small mountain village (Gifu Prefecture??) which Sho was partially using as a small dysfunctional farm, and partially letting become overrun by nature

This overrun area became a sort of training grounds for a young Tang Shen, where Sho taught her first basic self defense, then later all forms of ninjutsu and even the mystic arts.

When she was young, she enjoyed helping Sho raise their assortment of animals: chickens (her favorites), two pigs (Sho's favorites), an old steer, a horrible peacock (Sho's sworn enemy), and, of course, the Hamato's ancient pet African Spurred Tortoise, Yoshi

As a child, she befriended a boy, also named Yoshi, whom she immediately teased for having the same name as her family pet. They became inseparable.

She was rather ostracized by other children her age growing up, both because she was a foreigner, and because she was considered too outspoken/opinionated and known to stir up trouble when she felt something wasn't fair

Other young girls, in particular, would also bully her for her appearance, since she was taller, more muscular and broad-shouldered than most of her peers. (Sho never wanted to throw hands with eleven year olds before, but here we are)

Later on, she and Yoshi (the human, that is) fell in love

Page 2:

When she was small, Tang Shen loved learning to care for all the different types of animals living on the farm— even ones that weren't necessarily meant to be there, like the occasional rat, trying to establish a nest in a quiet corner of the barn.

Sho would help her catch any such critters she found, and they'd journey together into the woods or up the mountain to find a good place to release them, since they couldn't be allowed to stay on the farm.

(It was during one of these journeys that a newly-fathered Sho finally began to find his footing and connect to the young girl he took in. He had brought along some extra feed and an unneeded towel to give the rat a decent chance at settling in wherever they brought it to (and hopefully prevent it from finding its way back to the farm). But Tang Shen, five years old and only abstractly aware of why her life had recently changed so much, insisted there was a lot more the rat would need. She spoke of how lost and frightened it must be, having been just scooped up and taken to some place new so suddenly. Sho listened.)

Tang Shen developed a love of rats in part because of these little adventures she shared with her adoptive father.

As an adult, Tang Shen (having discussed it previously lol) was gifted a pet fancy rat by Yoshi.

She named the rat Miko and carried her everywhere.

[ranposgirlboss]

~HCS FROM MY BOOK!!-PART ONE~

THIS IS MULTIFANDOM!! also most of these are either slander or made for being a silly joke <333 so please don't take this seriously

fandoms: genshin impact, bungou stray dogs, and honkai impact

genre: fluff, slander, and sillies (it progressively gets less and less serious)

enjoy my shitty hcs from like a year ago <333 (they are actually older lol) ALSO ARE EXTREMELY SHORT SINCE IM LITERALLY JUST TAKING WHAT I WROTE WITHOUT CHANGING IT AND PUTTING IT OVER ON HERE LMAOASBHJAS (there's only so much space on paper </3)

chara list!!: albedo, kazuha, xiao, diluc, heizou, fu hua (sentience), scaramouche, aponia, dazai, ranpo, poe, ANDDD nikolai!!

FIRST TIME HOLDING HANDS!!

ALBEDO

-"its all for an experiment" he says

-lil bitch ok sure

-probably gonna study what this feeling is when he holds your hand and "why he feels so warm on the inside"

-acts like he doesnt care that much but bros probably gonna draw yall holding hands like a 13 year old drawing in her diary 💀

KAZUHA

-i love him but

-probably would make a poem about how your hand feels 😭

-he would be so cute tho ngl

-i mean just as always but also like

-please hold his hand he just loves you so much and along with words of affirmation physical contact seems to be his thing

-UGH MARRY ME

XIAO

-"wow y/n when you hold my hand the voices cease their calls for me to go to taco bell, thank you y/n."

-TAKE ME HIGHH AND ILL SINGGGG YOU MAKE EVERYTHING OKAY OHKAY OHKAY OHKAY (if you know that song here's your free kiss <33)

-and then you get married the end

-W H Y D I D I W R I T E T H I S B Y E -

DILUC

-could give less of a shit

-but for the sake of being a gentleman he says thank you and then continues bat manning sillily.

HEIZOU

-"y/n holding hands is cool but i think we should start an investigation of how fast we could make it to my place ;)"

-KILL YOURSELF. (please dont lead the way my silly detective <33)

-this gif makes me want to impulsively eat vanilla cake.

FU HUA

-YAAAATTAAAAA

-*holds hand* look at the beautiful sight ahead of us Y/N! no i did not make that fire-"

-fu hua arsonist era

APONIA

-MOMMY bjnEBHEKHBWJSK

-"y/n holding hands is great but why don't we open our arms and eyes to god"

DAZAI

-I APOLOGIZE TO ALL MY BSD READERS WHO HAVE TO SCROLL THIS FAR JUST TO GET THIS SILLy

-"i can always hold more then your hand~"

-a flirty bitch, but yall got chuuya knocking on your door asking you to "control your dog"

-ironic how chuuya is the one who says that

RANPO

-UGH I LOVE MY SKRUNKLE DOODLE PUSH POP SILLY SKRUNKLY CRUNKLY MUMPLY SILLY (yes i wrote that WORD. FOR. WORD.)

-will hold your hand for payments

-affection?? candy??? candys nuts fit in your mouth because they sure are about to <33 (i want to erase what i write sometimes)

-gets so happy omg

-not only does he have candy, you, but NOW he gets to hold your hand too>!1/!?!?

-wow he might as well steal from a candy store at this point

-might as well

-he swears it was an accident

POE

-poe held your hand with such sweetness, care, tenderness, love, and affection

-karl pulls up in his Mazarati, ready to throw hands once and for all, how DARE someone get more attention then karl

-poe has some explaining to do

-(i wonder how high i was when i wrote these)

-(i think i was 5'5)

NIKOLAI ( I FUCKING LOVE THIS ONE)

-so you go to hold his hand in y/n fashion

-suddenly you almost get hit by a bus

-"shit my bad wrong item"

-you stare in utter confusion at the bus as it suddenly vanishes like a fucking mob from minecraft or some shit

-nikolai god arc confirmed real

-so anyways you suddenly feel warmth on your hand on you see another fucking hand gripping yours but its literally just the hand detached from the body

-you are extremely scared and concerned why there's another hand gripping yours out of nowhere but with nikolai anything is possible so you just accept it and hold his hand back

-he giggles and nikolais away with the hand still holding yours

-(I ASKED HOW HIGH I WAS WHEN I WROTE THE LAST ONE BUT WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING HERE.)

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

the voices

ALOS THNAK YOU FOR READING THIS PIECE OF SHIT IM SORRY. SHE WAS ME FROM A YEAR AGO I DONT KNOW HER 😭

alos my reqs are always open

I ALSO APOLOGIZE FOR THE TAGS

[magniloquent-raven]

i wrote 1400 words of trans billy jerking off i hope yall enjoy him being horny and gross lmfao

**

Billy’s never been very good at resisting temptation, especially when it comes to his big stupid crush on Steve. 

He refuses to call it that, but that’s what it is. If it wasn’t he wouldn’t fucking be here, in Steve’s room, creeping on all his shit while Steve makes a beer run.

Not reading his diary or anything like that—mostly because he couldn’t find one—he’s just. Looking. 

He fiddles with the knickknacks strewn around on the simple pine dresser. Sneaks a peek in the top drawer. It’s full of row upon row of tighty-whities, not a secret to be found amongst them. He shuts it again with a sigh and moves on. To the dusty stack of magazines on the desk. There’s uncapped pens tucked next to it. The magazines are all boring. The ones with pretty girls on the covers are at the top of the pile, and the ones at the bottom are all finance mags with words crossed out and doodled over. 

He drops them haphazardly, and wanders over to the bed, perching on the edge of it.

And sitting there on the bedside table, tucked behind the clunky lamp, is a half-empty tub of Vaseline that Billy spends several minutes staring at while his brain shorts out. 

Okay. So. He knew he was probably gonna find something like that, he was kind of looking for something like that. And yet he still wasn’t prepared for real, tangible evidence that Steve Harrington lays on this very bed and touches himself. With those long fingers, slicked up and grasping desperately, lips bitten red and parted as he gasps, moans, not bothering to keep quiet when he’s all alone in the house…

Billy is both too buzzed and not buzzed enough to be doing this.

He runs his hand over the wrinkled pillowcase beside him. It’s some fancy high thread count shit, gotta be, it feels fine and delicate under his palm, soft as a summer breeze. Bet it smells just as sweet too. Like honey and clover and Steve. 

It takes him all of three seconds to throw dignity out the window—that ship pretty much sailed when he made a beeline for Steve’s room the second the front door closed behind him anyways—and lean down to bury his face in the scent. It’s everything he’s filed away under spank bank material over the years and more. All the whiffs of Steve’s shampoo he got in the locker room, the faintly lingering scent of hairspray and expensive leather, the overwhelmingly alluring musk clinging to him after basketball practice, when the collar of his shirt was askew and stuck to his damp chest, soaked with trickles of sweat that Billy wanted to chase with his tongue. 

His pillow smells like every wet dream Billy’s had since he moved to Hawkins. And all his stupid guilty fantasies about waking up next to Steve, all sunshine dappled and sleepy-eyed, gentle and domestic. Soft. 

Billy shifts a little. His briefs are damp, sticky, clinging to him in uncomfortable places, and he can’t help grinding his hips in a slow circle as heat builds low in his gut.

He’s been pent up all goddamn afternoon. Watching Steve’s long fingers as he rolled a joint, his pretty lips pursed and pink and looking so, so soft. Having to act like he wasn’t losing his fucking mind staring at the bit of chest hair peeking out of the unbuttoned collar of Steve’s stupid meticulously ironed polo shirt. And all the while, Steve had no fucking idea, sat there tapping Billy’s thigh with his socked foot, throwing a leg over his lap when Billy tried to bat him away, grinning oh-so-innocently with his dumb gorgeous face all lit up with mirth. 

Being that close to him always drives Billy fucking insane, and they spent hours like that, in each others’ space, brushing fingers when they passed the joint, Steve rubbing Billy’s hip with his heel occasionally, absently, like petting a cat you’re only half paying attention to.

Fucking maddening. 

Frustrating. 

God—

Billy turns, mussing the comforter as he moves his leg to part his knees and plant his ass right in the middle of the bed. He grips the pillow, toying with its seam, staring down at it, imagining Steve laying beneath him, his hair splayed against his pillowcase, eyes dark, his sides soft between Billy’s thighs. 

He’d slide back just a little and feel the hard bulge straining against Steve’s jeans. Rub up against him ‘til Steve begged him for more, ‘til they’re both soaking through their briefs and desperate for it.  

Billy presses into the mattress til his cock throbs and his breath hitches. 

He slides a hand under his shirt, up his own stomach, his chest, huffs a sigh when he hits smooth fabric pulled tight across. Rubbing the hard nub of his nipple through three layers of nylon and spandex is an exercise in frustration and a fucking tease. There’s a dull burn, a familiar building coil of heat, but it’s not enough. 

If he was smart he’d stay mostly clothed in case Steve gets back earlier than expected, but he’s not exactly thinking with his brain right now. He strips off his shirt in one fluid motion, tossing it behind him without looking to see where it lands, already halfway to stripping his makeshift binder off when he hears the soft thud of it hitting the floor. 

The last half is a lot of undignified wiggling to get the final sweaty layer off, but it’s worth it for the sweet bolt of pleasure that lances through him when he digs his nails into the soft skin around his nipple, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan. 

He wonders if Steve would be rough with him. Hurt him if he asked. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have to ask.

Maybe he’d sit up, his hands on Billy’s hips, pulling him closer, pressing his plush lips to Billy’s neck, his collarbone, his grip bruising but his kisses gentle, making his way down to the soft swell of Billy’s chest. And then he’d sink his teeth in. Biting, only where Billy’s always covered. Where he can’t show anybody for fear of discovery. Somewhere he can leave his own secrets safely.

Billy scrapes his blunt nails over his skin, eyes falling shut as he tries to imagine, tries to convince himself Steve’s really here, would want to touch him like this. 

He ruts against the mattress, it’s an awkward angle, hurts his knees to press so far down, but his breathing stutters every time he gets it just right.

With Steve’s scent all around him it’s almost, almost…

He grasps clumsily for the pillow, and shoves it between his legs. 

Would Steve go just as easily if Billy straddled him, framed his flushed face with muscular thighs and bore down on his waiting mouth, riding him ‘til he’s slick from nose to chin, messy and red-lipped and more than happy to stay between Billy’s trembling legs. 

Too many layers of fabric rub against each other as Billy moves, and he disentangles himself from his shorts, tossing them on the floor too. 

The backs of his knees are sweating, and his chest heaves with labored breaths. Hot, liquid pleasure buzzes in his veins, something possessive flaring in his chest when his bare skin brushes Steve’s pillowcase, blue cotton whispering against the softness of the inside of his thighs. He can smell his own sex, soaking through his briefs, his scent blending with Steve’s and making his head spin. 

He rolls the hard nub of his nipple between his fingers, pinching tight, moaning low in his throat. 

With one final, shuddering thrust, he comes, lips parted but breathless, wordless, eyes squeezed shut as it hits him in waves. 

He blinks.

The duvet is askew, as much as he smooths his hands over the corners of it he’s not sure he can put it back the way it was. He definitely can’t put the pillow back the way it was. He pulls it gingerly from it’s rumpled place between his knees, and eyes the wet patch he left right down the middle.

It should make him nervous. Fearful of discovery. 

It doesn’t.

He strokes a finger through the mess he left, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He’s still seated, catching his breath, sweaty and flushed in the afterglow, when he hears the front door open.

~~~tag list ppl @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle

[grim-ghou1]

Look, There may be a chance I will not even write LwB. Why? Right now I don't know How the plot would even go, All I might do is a Comic or doodles. Though I cannot promise this, I'm sorry if you were looking forward to the written version. But, Maybe I will in the Future. I have to many AUs to focus on, And my School ends on the 26th. I'll be Free but will still be Busy with life, If you wanna unfollow that's Fine.

Now, about the other AUs?

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

TW: This AU involves: Violence, Gore, Slight Body Horror, Major Character Death, Guns.

'Inked Apocalypse' is an AU where the Ink lliness Does spread instead of it Staying to one person, Though The person ho gets it first will have visible symptoms; Coughing, Wheezing, Throwing up, Heart Burn, Getting weak. And so on, But when a person dies from it they Turn into a aggressive Inked version of themselves, Once another person gets it..Well let say it spreads like a Wildfire in a forest. To actually kill them, You would need to put a red bullet in them. This will make them go at peace. Though if one is infected, They have only 48 hours to either amputate or find a Cure..But..The only cure is the Ink Machine Ink. (Being Written)

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

'Can't Escape Your Nightmare' Is an AU where the questers get kidnapped, all except bendy. He had gone missing about 2 months ago. The kidnappers wore black mask that had horns going along the sides. They took each quester into a different room one by one, wearing them out. They had to escape underwater traps, different animals. But boris knew something was off, after that they brought them to the entry of a forest. Telling them that they would be hunted by a demon. If they ran and if they were caught

..They would have been dragged into an ink puddle back to the place and do it all over again Bad Ending

Good ending?

Bendy broke then time loop after boris had tore devices off his neck making him go back to his normal self, simply bringing everyone outside the place. Bendy looked at boris before he went back into the place for Revenge (Comic/Doodles)

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

I will explain the other one later, Yall already Know the other three, I've already posted one about TTLTMO.

I want to thank @richiedicky, @apendixisapain, @idk-and-idc-period, For the help in These AUs. All these people mean so much to me.

Also, The LN AU does not belong to me, it is owned by @midnightfire830. Go support em, Actually Support all if em there the best.

And I'm so sorry for all the @'s everyone.

[pellyleli]

Ort

Please excuse how late any uploads are, some days I am so motivated I make things like this in under an hour and pump out like 10 drawings in oh so little time, but some of the time I end up stating at a blank paper waiting for any idea... I have a pretty good few drawings that I make when I'm motivated, usually 3-4 out of every 10 drawing I like enough to not throw away, but only like 1 of two end up ever seeing my tumblr, so I've started to stock up the little drawings I make for fun and when I don't have anything to post, I just do a doodle dump of old art. btw, the test did not in fact work so I won't be able to post it unless yall wanna see a train wreck..

[tianhai03]

a kiryu ryoma doodle + some expressions because I LOVE ISHIN IT’S SUCH A GOOD GAME AAAA

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[soobasaur]

are you mine?

— a lee minho au

genre: enemies to lovers minho x gender neutral!reader

a/n: this is for my bestie who has been in a minho obsession lately and needs more content, you know who you are :]

« masterlist

you and minho didnt exactly,,,get along very well for a while

the only reason you both even knew each other was two of your best friends were dating and merged ur friend groups

(thanks a lot binsung 〴⋋_⋌〵)

you wouldnt go as far as to say you hated him

but you liked to pretend you did

you just barely saw him around so why not just mke him your mortal enemy??

it was easier to hate him then admit he was decent company!!

you had a reputation to uphold!!!!

and apparently he did too because he never really disagreed,,,,

you guys just ever had a chance to get off on the right foot and really talk

mutual disagreement <33

the thing is, the both of you were never left alone together

like ever

until that one time yall were abandoned (-д-；)

you and ur friend groups planned a hang out but everyone ended up cancelling last minute with no excuse

it was just you two who didnt get the memo and ended up alone

now that you think about it,,,that sounds like smth ur friends would do on purpose

(again, fuck u binsung!! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ )

so just picture this,,,you and minho both showing up to an arcade and sitting in silence for an hour before getting a text that everyone cancelled

your immediate thought was to go home bc why would minho want to hang out with you???

but after the both of you read the text in the groupchat he got up and made his way inside, holding the door open and quirking his eyebrow up at you

“well, are you coming or not? I wanna try the new vr game.”

and you were just like \\(⊙︿⊙)// ???

he? wants?? to hang out??? with just you????

but u ended up following him in and he paid for your guy’s tickets ≧◡≦

“just buy me lunch after and we’re even”

lunch??? now this mf wants to get lunch together?!$%

you learned one thing about minho that day

he was,,,competitive,,VERY competitive

like what demon possessed him kind of competitive

whenever he won he would flash you a smirk and skip to the next game as he dragged his row of tickets along

it INFURIATED U!!!

ur pride was in shambles

so you unleashed everything after that and won a good amount of games ;)

u had been eyeing a cute cat plush the entire time but u didnt have enough tickets at the end :((

o(╥﹏╥)o damn it capitalism u just wanted a plushie

you didnt rlly want anything else so you gave your tickets to minho and waited to the side for him to get his prize

he came out with tHE SAME PLUSHIE YOU HAD BEEN EYEING \\( ಠ_ಠ)//

but before you could sulk about it he handed it to you and started to make his way to the exit Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

and during lunch this bitch ended up paying even after saying you should (｀ε´)

\(▰˘◡˘▰)//\\ (▰˘◡˘▰)//\\ (▰˘◡˘▰)// \\(▰˘◡˘▰)//

After that...hang out if you will,,u started to notice minho everywhere

LIKE E V E R Y W H E R E

why was this bitch all over your college campus?

you never noticed minho was in ur class for the longest time jsskkfk

like all of a sudden u just spotted him out of the corner of ur eye and were like o h

once he noticed you too there was no going back

say good bye to paying attention in class

(as if you ever did anyways)

he started to inch closer to you during class

he even started sending you notes

ಠ▃ಠ and u were so paranoid the professor would catch you

but this bitch was slick so u were fine

ヽ(๏∀๏ )ﾉ

he was the type of guy to throw little crumpled sticky notes at you whenever he wanted to say something during class

they’d be covered with doodles of cats and his scribbly messy handwriting + little hearts

it was usually just some dumb thought he had or a crude drawing of the professor (. ﾟーﾟ)

other than those few notes you guys never really talked outside ur friend group

there was one incident late at night tho

you had a big project coming up and it was 2am and you were...2 sentences in T_T

you deserved a coffee break <3

so that was how you found under the awning of an all night coffee shop

except it wasn't all night and closed right after you got ur coffee!!

and now u were stuck under the awning!!

all you had was your measly hoodie that you stole from changbin and your now soggy cup of coffee as you waited for the rain to pass

you might as well of just stayed home since ur wasting all this time you could’ve been working on your project standing outside

were you gonna work on the project once you got home? no

but did the thought of wasted time still make you mad? yes

you slumped against the shop as you bitterly drank your coffee, crushing the cup between your hands

after a couple minutes you felt the rain above you stop

you look to your side to see,,,minho?!

this mf was holding an umbrella above your head

“here, take my umbrella.”

thats when you noticed the cafe uniform he had on

“you work here?” you asked, before taking the umbrella from his hand

“yeah, your observant ass didnt see me literally make your coffee,”

“oh whoops,,,i thought you hated me, why are you giving me our umbrella?”

“i do, but id rather you uh...not die in the cold looking like a dead rat.”

was it just you or were his cheeks dusted pink?

probably the cold

(y/n you dumb bitch-)

you both walk back to your dorms after that

and he insists you carry the umbrella

cus his poor arms are tired from making coffee all day :((

and maybe it's an excuse to be closer to you

since hes a bit taller he has to crouch and scoot closer to you in order to not get wet >_<

⊙﹏⊙ ⊙﹏⊙ ⊙﹏⊙

over the next few weeks your find urself at the cafe he works at more often

one time you got the hours wrong and he wasnt on shift :(

but when you got up to leave he walked in and spent the day helping you study instead of working

you went for the coffee!! not for him!! definitely not,,,

(¬‿¬)

“look, im only hanging out with you cus you get the employee discount.”

“sure, and not cus you enjoy my company-”

“i 100% despise your company.”

ok but u didnt

u actually /REALLY/ liked his company

like WTF

where has he been all ur life

ew that sounded too romantic

but like fr where was he hiding

(・ε・｀)

soon you both were joining binsung on their dates

but it wasn't a double date!!

it was just four friends hanging out and two happened to be a couple

and they liked to hang out at fancy restaurants and do couple like activities

totally normal!!

there was one incident where you were about to pay for your meal but minho placed his hand on top of yours and slid his card instead

“you can pay on the next date.”

NEXT? DATE??

excuse me sir what do u mean-

you ignored changbin and jisung’s snickers behind you the entire night

when minho walked you home you couldnt help but let urself blurt out

“was this a date?”

minho gave you an incredulous look

“...was it not??”

oh my god this is embarrassing

“OH MY GOD WAS IT NOT?!!”

you ignored how minho was now turning crimson red and panicking and tugged on his collar, pulling him down for a kiss

“it was...a date” you mumble, now shy at the close proximity between the two of you

“...im gonna kill jisung.” he muttered, pulling you in for a hug, “he told me this was a double date”

“that can be our next date, the murder of our best friends.”

“wow i am in love with you.”

＼（＾○＾）人（＾○＾）／

minho and y/n murder besties!!

for legal reasons that is a joke

( ˶˘ ³˘(˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)♡

thank you for reading !!

[crash-cinematic-universe]

tiger lilies, self destructing, and richard siken

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: to peter maximoff, love is an anomaly that scares him more than anything else. however, you might be able to help him overcome his fear.

warnings: language! but that’s about it. kind of cheesy at some points but yknow what im not lactose intolerant

notes: this is the monsterous fic thats been kicking my ass this past week (6.2k words babey!!!) i was originally going to add ~~steamy~~ section to this one but i decided against it to make it readable for those who don’t wanna see that kind of stuff. if you want me to separately publish that then just lmk!!  (if any of yall wanna talk about richard siken to me then please do, his work is so good)

taglist: @stranger-names ,  @gooseyhouse , @parkersdarling​ 

1. 

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- no pun intended. His speed is a blessing, but also a bitter curse. He moves at the speed of sound, bouncing off the walls and tearing up the roads; he moves impossibly fast, and no one ever tries to catch up with him. People get tired of Peter rather quickly, not bothering to get attached to him when they know they can’t keep up. 

That’s why it’s so jarringly startling when you decide to stick around. When faced with the grand decision of throwing in the towel and leaving Peter behind or sticking around and trying your best, you chose the latter. It was surprising, to say the least. Peter waited patiently for the distance between the two of you to start growing; he waited for the void you once filled to open up again. However, the void never emptied, and the distance never grew. 

To anyone else, this would be a wonderful experience. Knowing that you wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten about would be comforting to anyone else in Peter’s position. However, this did the exact opposite for Peter. He wasn’t comforted or relaxed, on the contrary, he was always on edge. The future was cruel, and the mystery of it all felt like torture. 

To quote the great Richard Silken, “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Peter lived and breathed by this ideology, that everyone he loves would have to leave eventually, whether it be by their own volition or not. It was obvious that you didn’t plan on abandoning ship anytime soon, so Peter decided he’d take matters into his own hands. If you weren’t going to be the first one to walk away, then he’d be the one to run away from you. He soon came to learn that loneliness was at its most bitter when you’ve come to taste the sweetness of love. 

Love was a strange, complicated beast that Peter Maximoff had never dealt with before. If he were to be completely honest, love scared him. It scared him more than dying scared him. To Peter, death was an escape. Death was the end of a tiring journey, it was safe and simple and easy. Love was the opposite, it was the mouth of a dragon and the edge of a blade. It was the beginning to something so fragile and powerful, something that could end in flames. 

Peter realized he loved you on a summer afternoon. The sun was shining and you were in the shade. He sat down next to you, and within minutes Kurt and Ororo appeared at your side. They seemed so put together, so sure and strong. Peter felt out of place-- he felt as if he were standing outside of a cabin looking in through the window at your wonderful friendships. He watched with his nose pressed against the glass as you walked across the room and opened the cabin door to let him in. 

Peter realized he was in love with you in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm raged outside the mansion walls and raindrops kept time as Peter walked down the hallway. You were sitting on the floor of the common room next to a dying fire, a book clenched tightly in your hands. For a moment, he just stood against a wall and watched you. As creepy as he felt, a part of him believed he’d ruin your night by making himself known. He was okay with being a fly on the wall if it meant he’d get to see you. Peter wondered if there was a world where he had the pleasure of knowing you, without you having the burden of knowing him. 

Still, you saw him. And you knew him. And you waved him over with a smile. He felt the urge to run, to leave you here alone with yourself, but he stayed put. Then, one step at a time, he moved forward. He got closer and closer before he found himself standing at your feet. 

“You’re welcome to stay,” you told him. He believed it. Peter sat down next to you, letting his shoulder brush against yours.

“What’re you reading?” He asked. Peter already knew what you were reading, he read the cover of the book the moment he sat down, but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Crush by Richard Siken,”

“Oh. What’s it about?” Peter already knew what it was about. He’d read it at least fifty times.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I’d much rather just read it to you and let you decide for yourself,” Peter’s stupid little heart lurched, and he almost cried at the thought. He held it together, though. 

“That would be nice,” He said softly. 

“Sorry about all the writing in the margins, I can’t help myself sometimes.” Peter scanned the sides of the pages, marveling at your notes. Some of them were reactions, littered with exclamation points and question marks and bold letters. Some of them were underlined phrases and little doodles-- most notably a little drawing of a chameleon on a tiger lily. He loved them.

“It’s okay. Literature is meant to be marked up-- what’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?”

“That’s a good point,” You grinned. Then, the reading began, and you allowed Peter to rest his head on your shoulder as you read to him. Even though he’d heard the poems a billion times by now, they sounded brand new coming from you. He listened closely. You were arriving at his favorite part, “You are Jeff” section 24. 

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you...” You read on, not noticing the way Peter’s eyes had shifted from the book you were holding to your face. Peter’s mind wanders, and he curses himself for missing the lines you were reading “... You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.” 

Peter felt like he was going to cry. You kept reading and he kept looking. It was getting late, and Peter was getting tired. Your voice had softened and slowed, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace had all but died. Peter was the one that fell asleep first, and you followed closely after. Both of you had lingering smiles on your faces. 

2. 

Intimacy is an odd thing, isn’t it? Thinking critically, intimacy is just vulnerability with more layers. It’s the closeness between people, it’s allowing yourself to connect with someone you care about. It’s stripping yourself down to muscle and bone and hoping the other person doesn’t let you bleed out. It’s a level of trust that is more than closing your eyes and falling backwards; it’s closing your eyes and letting them push you over the edge into the unknown, and trusting them enough to know you’ll be okay when you hit the ground.

It didn’t take long for Peter to realize that he had trouble with being intimate with other people. Too many times had trusted someone to push him over the edge, only to realize he’d be shattered when he hits the ground. After that, he decided intimacy was overrated. It’s not like anyone was going to have that kind of relationship with him, anyway. 

Of course, then you came along and uprooted his entire worldview, like you had with everything else. He found himself thinking about you at every waking moment, which inevitably led to him… thinking about you at every waking moment, if you catch my drift. Sure, intimacy involves more than just physical intimacy, but Peter knows he can’t ignore the feeling that rises in his stomach whenever he’s around you. For the first year or so of your relationship, Peter became very familiar with the feeling of an ice-cold shower. 

What Peter didn’t take into consideration was you. For some reason, Peter struggled to understand the fact that you were just as attracted to him as he was attracted to you. It was no secret that Peter was insecure, but he never really realized how much his insecurity affected his relationships. If he couldn’t love himself, how could anyone else? Peter is the only one who gets to see his persona in its truest form, and every time he has to avert his eyes. It’s safe to say his physical appearance has been the cause of very many painful-- and occasionally tear-filled-- sleepless nights. 

He told you this. He told you everything. He told you about Erik, he told you about his childhood, he told you about everything he loved and hated and feared and yearned for. That ordeal alone was scary enough, knowing that at any moment you could decide you didn’t want to deal with him anymore, but as always, you stuck around. You told him everything. You told him about your family and your struggles. You told him about everything you loved and hated and feared and yearned for, and not once did Peter even think that he wanted to walk away. This is the kind of intimacy that, over the years, Peter had struggled with less and less.

Still, it was the sexual aspect of intimacy that freaked him out. It was a beast he’d never dealt with, a feat he’d never faced. That being said, as every day went by Peter became more and more… frustrated. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, so he'd just let the subject approach him and wing it. 

And as he sat on his bed watching as you twirled around to Tears for Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, Peter realized he didn’t have much to worry about. 

“Dance with me, dollface,” you laughed, reaching out for him. You looked like someone straight out of a movie, the lim blue light coming from Peter’s arcade machines illuminating a halo above your head. You put Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez to shame. Peter took your hand, grinning like an idiot as you twirled him around. 

There he was, dancing in his mother’s basement with his favorite person in the entire world. He wasn’t a great dancer, and neither were you, but that didn’t matter. Peter was dreading this visit-- he hated the idea of being back in the basement that made him feel like a failure. But you assured him that you’d be there with him, and that getting to see his family would make it all worth it. His family isn’t what made it worth it, though. 

“Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd came next, slower and a bit more somber, but still danceable. Your arms shifted to around his neck, pulling him closer than he already was. Somehow, you ended up with your back against the wall as the song came to a close. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“I love you,” Peter spoke softly. This was a small victory-- he’d been so scared of the mere idea of loving someone. You were the only one who got to hear his love confessions. They were for you, and for you only.

“I love you too,” Peter would never, ever get tired of hearing that. Knowing that you love him is enough to keep him going for a hundred years. And he knows the odds, he knows that love is rocky and painful as much as it is beautiful. He knows that love can feel sweet in the beginning and go sour overtime. He knows that first, second, third relationships don’t always work out. But he thinks this is going to work out. And Peter doesn’t think this will ever go sour. Maybe that’s his blissful ignorance talking, maybe he’s jinxing it, but at this moment, he doesn’t care. Right now he is at his happiest, at his most content. 

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked softly, pecking Peter on the cheek. He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, and Peter grinned. In an instant the tv across the room began playing the opening credits to the first movie that popped into his head. 

“The Breakfast Club?” You questioned. Peter shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age kind of movie,”

You sat against the headboard of Peter’s bed, allowing Peter to settle beside you. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he was quick to grab your hand. Peter loved the closeness. Over the past year, he’d come to realize he was a very affectionate person. Previously, Peter hadn’t known soft, physical love; the only time anyone would ever touch him would be as punishment or defense, not love. Love. Peter had gotten more comfortable with the idea of love, because when he thinks of love he thinks of you.

3. 

Every good story has a villain. A villain that you love to hate, or hate to love. A villain you can sympathize with, a villain you can’t excuse, a villain that the mere mention of makes you sick to your stomach. An unexpected villain. An obvious villain. A villain that’s just trying his goddamn best. Sometimes the villain is defeated, sometimes the villain changes their evil ways. Sometimes the villain dies and the crowd cheers. 

Peter Maximoff never thought he’d be the villain of his own story. He tried his hardest to be a good person, but there was always that side of him that made him afraid. He was like an explosive; whenever someone got too close, he’d detonate and destroy everything around him. It was a self-defense tactic, albeit counterproductive. 

It killed you to see him that way. He told you about the relationships he’d lost to himself. He told you about the abandonment and the loneliness. It broke your heart. He tried to distract himself, drowning himself in work so he’d never have the opportunity to ruin what he had with you. Peter Maximoff was a walnut tree; every time he planted his roots and began to grow, he’d kill anything that grew too close. However, the constant working started to wear Peter down.

It started with the late nights. He’d collapse next to you at four AM, knocking out the minute his head hit the pillow. Still, he’d be awake before you were, already scrambling around trying to complete various tasks. He was like a machine that was running from it’s problems. The late nights turned to all-nighters, and the few hours Peter managed to salvage set aside for sleep had shrunk to a few minutes at a time. He didn’t eat anything with even a hint of nutritional value. At this rate, he was going to work himself to death. 

The worst part? Peter knew what he was doing. He wasn’t stupid. He just needed to shut up the little voice in his head that urged him to act out. The entirety of his childhood, Peter destroyed what he created. The need to be isolated, the feeling that he deserves to be alone spread throughout his body like a cancer. He locked himself away in the basement, trying desperately to stay out of everyone’s way so they wouldn’t shut him out. People tried to coerce him out of his cave, to pull him out of the bottomless pit he threw himself into. Peter saw them as the sirens trying to lure him into the ocean of loneliness, and he wasn’t going to fall for it. In his eyes, anyone who tried to help him were the villains of his amazing, heroic tale. Fortunately for him, one by one, they started to give up on helping him. They thought he was a lost cause; a fucking loser who was destined to wallow in his own self-pity until he died. At first, this was a triumph. He defeated them, he outwitted the sphinx and slayed the dragon. But a part of him hated himself for becoming the worst-case scenario that every parent feared their child would grow up to be. 

He pulled himself out of his pit and back onto his feet, all by himself. It was hell on Earth, but he did it. That cancerous feeling of uselessness retracted back into itself, now residing in the place next to Peter’s heart. However, that horrifying fear of becoming a burden began to grow again, this time when Peter was in his mid-20s. He began to overcompensate, and that led him to where he was; always on the brink of collapse, running on nothing but coffee and twenty minutes of sleep. In return, Peter got to have friends. In his mind, that was fair. In your mind? Not even close.

You managed to catch him in his bedroom as he was in the midst of simultaneously scribbling in a notebook and reading an open novel. Peter Maximoff would always be the most beautiful person in the world in your eyes, but at that moment, he looked like hell. Your plan seemed foolproof, but then again, you weren’t sure what you were walking into. Lately, Peter didn’t seem like himself. Probably because of the lack of sleep. 

“Peter?” He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded. “I got you something.”

“You did?” A sleepy smile was all he could muster, but that was google enough for you.  

“I did. It’s to mark exactly three years since I first met you,” you sat down on his bed, placing the small wrapped book right next to you. Peter glanced at the calendar on the wall-- oh god, you were right. It’s been three years to the day and he forgot. He deserves the title of “World’s Worst Boyfriend”. Scott will probably be upset that he’s losing his title.

 “What’re you up to?”

“Finishing up some old work I’ve been putting off,” he punctuated his sentence with a yawn. “Some of my old work and some of Hank’s, too.” “Why are you doing Hank’s work?”

“He seemed stressed about something, thought I might help clear his head,” The sentiment is sweet, you’ll give him that.

“Alright, well, can we talk for a minute?” Alarm bells went off in Peter’s brain. There has never, in the history of the universe, been a good conversation that started with ‘can we talk for a minute?’ or any of it’s cruel variants. 

“Actually, I’m kind of busy right now, can this wait?” It was obvious that the answer to that was no, but still, he felt the need to ask. 

“Not really, no. It’s important.” Peter saw the next few seconds playing out in his head. The inevitable had come to fruition; you realized that you could do better, and now you were cutting him loose. He couldn’t blame you, not really, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to rip him to shreds. He realized that whatever you brought for him was most likely a parting gift. How sweet.

“Oh. Alright.” 

“Well, I’m going to give it to you straight,” you sighed. “I’m worried about you, Peter.”

Oh. He’s heard this speech before, he knows the spiel. He can vaguely recall a guidance counselor telling him the exact same thing before Peter decided to call him a slew of expletives. The tar pit in his chest began to grow.

“I’m fine.” This was a lie. The first lie in a long chain of lies that Peter was about to tell to you, his favorite person in the world. He loved you, but in that moment his vision clouded over. You weren’t the person he loved and cherished anymore, no, you were just another faceless blur that provided a temporary escape. 

“Really? I feel like you’re pushing everyone away, you’re pushing me away.” Peter was becoming more and more irritated by the second.

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m not pushing you away. 

“Don’t lie to me,” your voice is firm and unwavering. “You don’t sleep, you almost never eat-- I don’t think I’ve seen you stand still for more than three minutes once in the past month--”

“That’s just how I am,” Peter huffs. He wanted this conversation to be over. “That’s not your problem.”

“Your wellbeing is my problem, Peter, that’s the whole point of being friends with someone. Even more so now, because you’re my partner and I care about you--” 

“Then stop,” Peter rolled his eyes. He's more irritable than normal-- most likely because he hasn’t slept in days. He could almost feel the venomous arms of isolation creeping around him. It’s a sick pattern, he knows; every time someone gets close to him, he feels the need to self-destruct before they lose interest. Even now, even after all this time, Peter’s still powerless against the poison in his veins. 

“What?” You’re losing your reserve and your stature. He can tell. You’re slouching and picking at the cuticles on your thumb. It’s almost as if he’s been shoved into the back seat, and is now being forced to watch as a stranger takes the wheel and crashes the car. So much frustration, so much hurt, and it’s all coming out right now, onto you. Peter already regrets this entire interaction, but still, he manages to spit acid. 

“Stop caring. Just leave, I know you want to. I know every night, you lie awake and think about all the different ways you can leave me in the dust. Not that it would matter to me.” This is another lie. Your eyes flash with hurt, but you stay put. You know he’s just being an asshole because he’s exhausted and too stubborn to admit that you’re right. He’s egging you on intentionally, trying to get you to snap and walk away. 

 “Peter, god, I love you but sometimes you can be so...”

“So what? C’mon, be honest with me,” He huffed. 

“Frustrating,” You surrendered. The poise you once held was gone. “I know it isn’t your fault-- I know you’ve trusted so many people so deeply and been betrayed or sold out and I know you’ve loved so many times and been thrown to the curb without a second thought. But I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I’m here for you, and that I love you. I’ve tried everything, and it feels like I’m talking to a brick wall. I want to make this work, but I need you to work with me.” It’s evident in your voice that you’re desperate. You’re just hoping you’ll get through to him, somehow. “I need you to want it as bad as I do-- hell, I need you to want it at all.” Here it comes--

“You ever think, maybe, I just don’t want you to be that person for me? I’ve spent my life being independent, my entire existence so far has been built around the fact that I’m going to end up alone. People come and people go-- people like you and Charles-- and they tell me they care. They tell me that they love me and that they're here for me. And then they get tired of me and they leave. I wish that you would just leave me the fuck alone and let me live in solitude,” There it was. The lie to end all lies. The words tasted awful coming out of his mouth, and the whole ordeal left his mouth tasting very… sour. Peter had to look away, he couldn’t look at the expression on your face.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Your eyes never met his, but you paused before you exited the room. “I know you’re probably just… I don’t know, going through something, but you’re being an asshole. Don’t talk to me until you’ve sorted your shit out. Enjoy your solitude.” You left the room impossibly fast, your fists clenched so tightly Peter feared that your nails would break the skin on your palms. He struggled to keep it together-- why the fuck did he do that? 

Peter collapsed onto his bed, and it’s only then that he realized you left behind the gift you got him. A part of him thought he should return it to you, but the other part of him urged for it to be opened. He tore the wrapping paper off before he realized what he was doing. The hardcover book the wrapping paper concealed was handbound, the cover littered with your beautifully familiar handwriting. In big, bold letters The Best of Poetry in the Humble Opinion of Y/n L/n was scrawled at the top. 

Peter vividly remembers a late night you spent talking to him. You told him about your favorite poems, outlining each and every little detail you loved about them. Some of them he’d read already, some of them he hadn’t, but all of them sounded like artwork coming from you. He opened the front cover, and you’d written something else on the inside. 

“In the words of the wonderful Peter Maximoff, ‘What’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?’. This is me, sharing the love.” 

Carefully, Peter opened to a random page in the book. He saw the notes in the margins and the doodles and the exclamation points and before he knew it Peter was on the verge of tears. He was barely containing himself, and then he read a specific annotation you made. 

He had opened to the first page of “The Worm King’s Lullaby”, one of your all-time favorites. A specific line was underlined, one that Peter was all too familiar with: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Beside it, you wrote:

“As much of a genius Mr. Siken is, I have to disagree with this. If you love someone enough, you’ll never leave them and they’ll never leave you. Even if they die, even if things don’t work out, you’ll always have a little part of them to carry with you. Carry this part of me with you, Peter. Not that I plan on leaving anytime soon.” 

That was it. The floodgates broke. Everything that Peter had held back came pouring out-- the past 10 minutes finally caught up with him, and they hit him like a bus. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, his knees pulled up to his chest so tightly he thought his legs would snap. Peter wanted to rip all his hair out or punch a hole in the wall or hold his head underwater until he was nothing but an obituary and a headstone. His chest burned and the pit of despair inside his chest had overtaken his system, and he hated himself with a burning passion. Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he do that?

Peter Maximoff had his breakdown in solitude, revealing in the fact that he was, undeniably, the villain of his own life.

4.

As it turns out, ‘getting his shit together’ is much harder than Peter originally anticipated. He's trying, he really is, but it's hard. Especially without you there. Peter knows that he fucked up, and he knows that he needs to work for your forgiveness. And don’t worry, he’s going to work for it. 

It had only been a week, but the entire mansion could tell that something was off. Life just wasn’t the same without the randomized gusts of wind that would knock people off their feet; no one had been seriously injured or had something stolen from them. The whirlwind that was mansion life, while still chaotic, lost it’s fun. 

Charles tried to keep things running smoothly, but he was an old man and didn’t exactly understand you and Peter. People would knock on your door every now and then, but you didn’t answer. You were much too busy analyzing exactly how much of a bitch you were being-- realistically, the answer is 0%, but you didn’t see it that way. No, from your perspective, you saw Peter having a mental breakdown and you ditched him. Pretty shitty move.

What you didn’t realize was that Peter was doing the exact same thing, however, the blame falls mostly on his shoulders, and boy does he know it. He’s been scripting his grand apology, trying desperately to find the right words to express exactly how sorry he is. Peter was never very good with words-- it’s always too hard to know if you’re going to say the wrong thing and mess everything up. Although, it’s hard to see how the scenario could get any worse.

He made the executive decision to start with “I’m sorry”-- a solid start to any apology. Sure, he could stop there, but Peter realized that he’d probably need more to win back his partner. So, he managed to scribble down a few more lines on a tiny notecard he was supposed to use for studying. Oh, what a wondrous redemption arc this would be; Peter gets into a fight with his wonderful partner and ruins their relationship and then struggles to come up with a coherent apology. 

“I’m sorry about what I said, that was shitty. I shouldn’t have said that.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. God, he was going to die alone, wasn’t he? Maybe this is the cruel punishment the world is dealing to him, the universe is deciding that Peter’s redemption arc would be better if it, well, didn’t exist. Even so, he isn’t planning on giving up or giving in just yet. 

He scrapped what he had so far and started at the beginning once again. His 9th grade english teacher would tell him to write about what he knows, and though he doesn’t know much, he’s an expert when it comes to himself. Peter knows how he feels about you, he knows how sorry he is, and he knows that he really, really, really wants you to know that he didn’t mean a word he said about not wanting you. Peter knows about love, at least a little bit, and he realizes he’ll need more than just words.  

His mind drifts to that night, years ago, in front of the fireplace. He vividly remembers a tiger lily and a chameleon scribbled in the margins of your book. Realistically, Peter couldn’t get his hands on a chameleon, but a tiger lily was a different story. In high school, Peter took a botany course because he thought it’d be easy. It wasn’t, it was boring as all hell, but it seems like his slacking paid off. He knew tiger lilies were indigenous to Asia, but they’d become quite common along New England-area roadways. 

Peter grabbed his jacket and took off, tearing through the roads like his life depended on it. In less than 10 minutes, Peter found himself in the middle of New Hampshire drenched in rain. In hindsight, he probably should’ve checked the weather before leaving. Nevertheless, he takes off into the small wooded area that laid passed the road’s end. Dozens of mushrooms dotted the muddy ground and mossy rocks clouded his peripheral vision. The rain begins to lighten as he spots a bright orange tiger lily peeking through the remains of a tree stump. He sprints over to it.

The tiger lily is bloomed and beautiful and Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the wide array of speckles and splotches and color. It’s pristine, but some of the petals are torn or wilting. The roots stretch into the stump below it, and Peter leans closer. The stump is old and worn, fungi and bugs eat away at the base next to a large hole where a family of worms reside. The stump is ugly, sure, but it’s useful. It helps keep the bugs fed and keeps the worms warm. There’s a metaphor here somewhere, but Peter is too distracted to find it. 

He gently picks the flower and spins on his heel, taking off once again. The rain makes it harder to run, but it’ll take a lot more than water to stop Peter. By the time Peter gets back to Xavier’s the flower is a little crushed, but it’s still somewhat pristine. 

He has the flower, he has the apology, and now all he needs is courage. Thankfully, that courage comes quickly as he instinctively knocks on your bedroom door. He probably should’ve stopped to collect himself, but he was riding a wave of adrenaline that wouldn’t come back. 

“Go away, Jean,” You called from inside. You sounded tired, and it made Peter sad. 

“It’s-- uh-- it’s not Jean,” Peter can hear your hesitant footsteps approaching the door, and suddenly the courage he managed to build up drained. His hands are shaking by the time you open the door. You look up at him, and Peter looks back at you, and suddenly everything is much harder to do. He looks down at his feet. 

“Hi.” Your voice is hoarse, but clear. 

“Hi.” Peter’s voice is uneven and quiet. You stand there in silence for a minute before Peter pipes up again.

“So, uh, you’re probably still mad at me and I get that, but I just want you to hear me out. I-If that’s okay,” You nod slowly, and Peter takes a deep breath. He thinks about the written apology that sat in his coat pocket, and he makes the last-minute decision to forget about it. He’ll speak from the heart, or, whatever people in rom-coms do. 

“I’m sorry. It was really shitty of me to get angry at you because you were worried about me-- although, I guess shitty is an understatement. Everything that I said about, yknow, not wanting you or Charles or anyone else around anymore wasn’t true. I need you guys, and I love you guys and it was unfair of me to push you away. Solitude really sucks. I guess I’m just not very good at navigating relationships,” He exhales, and his chest shudders. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I just thought I should make it clear how I feel.” It’s only then that he remembers about the tiger lily in his hand. “Oh, and this is for you.”

“A tiger lily?” you smiled softly. “These are my favorite-- how did you know?”

“I’m just observant, I guess. You usually draw them when you’re bored, I figured you’d like to see one in person,” You gently took the tiger lily in your hand. The silence that hung in the air was deafening, and Peter realized that was probably a bad sign. His chest drops just a bit, and he takes a small step backwards.

“I guess I should probably leave you alone--” Peter can’t get very far, because you immediately jump forward and wrap your arms around him. Eyes wide and heart pounding, you can feel Peter’s arms lock around your waist. 

“Thank you,” You whispered. “Please don’t go.” Peter was smiling so hard his cheeks ached, and a horrible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The close-contact was refreshing; he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He was pretty sure he would never, ever let you go. Not again.

5.

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- that is, until you came along. You proved to him that he deserved physical affection, that his mutation and his personality and weirdo quirks didn’t make him lesser or unlovable. Peter Maximoff deserved love, and you were the one who never failed to love him. 

You sat on a wooden chair in front of the fireplace, reading to the group of children sitting at your feet. The emotional lines of “Snow and Dirty Rain” fell from your lips, and with every turning syllable the small group would listen just a little bit closer. Peter did, too, desperately trying to hear every single word you said. Class was almost over, and once the students were dismissed you’d probably stop reading.

“I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is,” Your eyes tore away from the page to look at the kids at your feet. They fell upon Peter, and a smile erupted on your face. 

Peter vaguely recalls the twisted idea of love that he held as a teenager. He thought love was a dragon to be defeated, a battle that could be won or lost. It’s clear now that love is the opposite-- it isn’t a fight or a battle or a thing to be conquered. It’s more like a flower; it needs to be cherished and cared for in order to grow. Sometimes the flower wilts and dies, and that’s natural, but sometimes the flower lasts for a lifetime. 

Love wasn’t a dragon or a knight, it didn’t have a hero or a villain; it was much more like a tiger lily and a tree stump.

[syrenblubs]

Study Date With Kuroo Tetsurou

a/n: lmao i wrote these when i was dying with my friend at 2am so yeah 

this lil shit nerd

so not only did yall have a math test, but also CHEMISTRY? why are these literally my 2 favorite classes tho

if u aren't good at those subjects, kuroo would take it upon himself to teach u as best as he could

especially with chem, he'd throw in a lot of his jokes to help u understand the info better

okay these sound more like tutor hcs than a study date ughhghg

if u are good at them tho, he'd happily just sit with u at a cafe and grind out homework together

before studying tho, yall need to get ur drink of choice

it could be tea, coffee, or whatever u like, and he'd get the same

once yall put your headphones in and hit the books, it becomes a whole vibe yes ofc chefs kiss

every so often, he'd try to get ur attention by drawing little doodles on your notebook

this wouldn't bother u as it shouldn't , but u found it really cute

but what would bother u though is when he'd steal a sip of your drink because he already finished his

he'd also occasionally ruffle your hair because he thinks ur focused face looks adorable as shit

he'd definitely finish his homework before u so he could ramble to u about all the tea the vb team has

if u try to ignore him, he'd start trying to grab ur hands

not in a bad way or anything, he's just trying to get ur attention because of his touch-starved ass

when u finally finish all your work and ur ready to go home for the night, he'd take ur hand and intertwine his fingers with yours, as you both leave the cafe and into the cloudy evening sky why was this part so shitty tho

[gayregis]

netflix witcher and netflix witcher fans really showcase the absolute Audacity of americans using foreign (in this case polish) words they don't understand and cannot pronounce right at all for absolutely no fucking reason like what was the point?? what was the point of butchering my language haven't yall had enough???

really agreed. sorry if this sounds like kind of off-topic or a tangent, but i swear i’ll loop it back around to your point eventually — i was discussing about jaskier’s name in the server earlier with @nightimefairy and the decision from lauren to keep it in polish in the [obv. american but important for content] netflix adaptation.

to an english-only speaker, the word “jaskier” doesn’t sound really different than any other name in the witcher, it does not translate the meaning that it’s the name of a flower.

jaskier/dandelion’s name being obvious to the audience as being the name of a flower is important, because it helps define his character if only by name. i remember when i first learned of the character, i really was like, that’s a strange name, no one is called dandelion from birth, and why would someone be called after a flower. of course months later when i read the tower of the swallow (or perhaps minutes later when i read the wiki, because i wanted spoilers ahaha) it was a mystery that was solved for me. but if he hadn’t been named his translated name — dandelion — i would have totally had missed this and not understood at all that his name is the name of a flower and not like, a “normal” name that one would totally give to the child they bore. but overall, this name of a flower suggests to the reader that buttercup/dandelion isn’t his real name, making them wonder what it, and thus his other identity, could possibly be. and we all know that artist-types tend to have a stage or a pen name under which they perform or publish, so dandelion having this name cements for the reader that he is such an artsy-type.

then of course, a buttercup or a dandelion being a small yellow flower makes it not an especially masculine name, and additionally these flowers are largely considered weeds... that’s two things we can tell about the character right off the bat. and since they are yellow flowers with golden petals, we can understand another thing about him — he’s blonde, it’s a fitting nickname due to his hair color. and of course, blondes carry with them many different literary and modern media tropes.

additionally, the name not being translated in english adaptations prevents it from carrying any other linguistic cleverness or connotations — for example a similar-sounding word for the original polish jaskier, “jaskrawy,” meaning vivid/vibrant/brilliant, or similar-sounding words for the english translation dandelion, “dandy,” a historical term for an effeminate or foppish man (think “yankee doodle dandy,” who ‘stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni’... i.e. basically ‘did something foolish and called it fashion’) and/or an colloquial expression to indicate pleasure or happiness (“oh well, that’s just fine and dandy!”, sort of like “swell!”)

although it’s not a perfect 1:1 translation, as a dandelion is not the same flower as a jaskier (buttercup), the name carries a very fitting connotation with it for the character, which can be used to understand him (and of course he is not the only one, for example, milva being named after a red kite, regis meaning king)

however, when you don’t translate “jaskier,” and leave his name as-is, this leaves the english-only speaking audience completely missing everything i just talked about. you won’t understand a thing about his character by knowing that his name is jaskier, because english-only speakers don’t know what a “jaskier” is, and they also don’t have the vocabulary in polish to understand the connotations in that language ...

and this is the entire point of translations. to translate meaning from one language to another — often imperfect, as is the nature of language, but necessary when trying to bridge gaps of understanding.

and when you deliberately don’t translate, you get english-only speakers thinking that they know how to pronounce words in polish because their favorite british boys on screen said a polish word aloud a few times. and you get anglicizations of words that don’t make any sense at all — for example... “jas” or “jask” as a nickname, when that’s not how polish language functions (to my knowledge) and there are specific conventions for making pet names or nicknames in the languages (with diminuatives?) (to my knowledge).

to me, it demonstrates, from both the american creators and the audience, the white american perspective that other cultures and languages are easy to understand and take from, as long as you think that you are being respectful (not that you ARE being respectful, only that you determine yourself to have good intentions). the approach lacks any actual respect, carefulness and preciseness, and most importantly actually talking or reaching out to people of that culture & language, so you are not just trying to do something yourself that you don’t know shit about, but that you can learn from others (and make friends along the way hopefully).

but as you said — what was the point?

in my opinion a lot of the point of including untranslated polish words in the netflix adaptation was part of the marketing towards the polish audience (and perhaps books audience?) that they attempted, with relatively little success. lauren proclaiming on twitter that she’s loved these books and read them dozens of times, the youtube videos with the actors reading scenes from the books with sound effects edited in (to me, reminiscent of the polish audiobooks, but the polish audiobooks have better quality), the games with the actors trying to guess what witcher-relevant polish words mean in english.

when in reality, it’s obvious they didn’t really care (or at least, the people making the top decisions) didn’t really care about making a books-faithful adaptation (this isn’t even attempting to touch the topic of making an adaptation that respects the origin culture of the witcher).

of course from the trailers (and casting... re: cavill and batey, who don’t look like their characters’ book equivalents) everyone could tell that this wasn’t an “adaptation of the books” like they sometimes advertised it. but if they were able to show, hey, we didn’t change this one name of this one character to english, hey, we have read the books, look, we are literally reading them on camera! ... then they might get some more polish books fans to give the series a watch, meaning more people to buy into a netflix trial which then all too easily leads into a subscription because people forgot to cancel or enjoyed the convinience of netflix and ‘hey what’s $10 anyways,’ which leads to money for them, which is how they gauge their success. they don’t give two shits about respecting anything, because that doesn’t give them any money.

i do find it amusing though, because they’re like “we have the amazing minds so much better than sapkowski to improve on the witcher and we’re truly just visionaries who are taking the books into an inspired direction and it’s not an adaptation, it’s so much more” while also being like “we respect the books so much and we worked with sapkowski and we really wanted to be faithful to the books and this is an adaptation where we really thought about the canon material” like just choose a marketing ploy and run with it, you’re going to tire yourself out running between both camps. though it does look to me like finally in season 2 the mask will be off because they’re adding so many new OCs and plotlines they really won’t be able to pretend they cared about the books at all (e.g. geralt throwing axes from trees)

[scandeniall]

haikyuu characters as meg the stallion lyrics

a/n: a shit post that been sitting in the drafts for weeks now. sorry for making all 3 of u who wanted this wait. Tagging @trish-writes bc she been posted hers for flo milli and im so late 

Karasuno

Hinata: “Im at grand lux eatin a caesar salad with my sugar daddy’”  (when Kenma invltes him over.) 

Kageyama: “outta any bitch im the hardest in the litter” or “got that big budget with no major deal” // (cause yall know how his ass got invited to the training camp? ENOUGH SAID)

Tsukki: “You was already mad, I’m just adding somethin’ to that” (fight him. lives for pissing folks off)

Daichi: “bitches acting shitty, so I had to potty train em” (mad daichi will dog walk anyone’s ass so theres that)  

Noya: “You want to reach out to me its a process” or “moved out the hood but I still throw that bitch up” (mans was not showing up to them pro games. noya living his best life, good luck reaching him boo)

Nekoma

Kuroo: “can you keep these broke motherfuckers off me” or “walk in look like money” (yuh capitalism for the finest man. get into it)

Kenma: “I aint gotta worry bout shit, money GOOD” (and thats on him being a student, streamer/gamer, AND business owner at the same time)

Yaku: “Im fresh off a plane, I’m imported”

Alisa Haiba: “I’m overpaid and pretty, hair hanging down to my back”

Lev: “Bitch this a new outfit, turn to the back for a pic”

Aoba Johsai

Oikawa: “Bitch im a problem, nobody solvin” OR “im kicking bitches out they spot stalli chan” (king went to another country and popped tf off. Coming for everyone’s necks. Oikawa supremacy)

Iwaizumi: “he begging me for the treatment. He throw a fit when I leave” (i just KNOW japan team stay tryna get his attention. be faking all types of shit to make him come back) 

Makki: “I have not worked 9 to 5 in a while” (girl thats canon right there)

Mattsun: “Got a big boy then pull it out” (mattusn horse [redacted])

Fukurodani

Bokuto: “I got face, I got body, you name it? I got it”

Akaashi: “I know a sexy motherfucker like myself might offend some” OR “I’m pretty like art, bitch I look like a fixture”

Konoha: “Ayy you bitches is weird” (he side eyes weird shit. Sometimes tilts his head because it sometimes makes sense)

Inarizaki

Atsumu: “dont get hoe, get a bag hoe.” OR “bitch dont like me all you want, run up bet you wont” (talk shit? bet you wont act on it. This mans a pro player laughing to the bank on your ass. He cry about it at night though)

Osamu: “hoe you a copy of me, you a doodle” (he tells that shit to atsumu all the time yall.)

Suna: “bitch do i look like i fight?" (you want a man who will fight someone for you? this aint the one bby. He can’t even fight) 

Aran: “In the food chain, I’m the one that eat ya” (man he just radiate mature big dick energy. Grind don’t stop either. Get that bag and blow out his boo’s back all while keeping other folks in line) 

Kita: “I’m the only one that make you happy when you’re stressed” (hes sweet. Perfect husband material. But meg, girl i aint ask for this song) 

Shritorizawa

Ushijima: “if he say he a dog ima treat him like a pet” OR “I keep it realer than real fuck all them critics and fuck how they feel” (hes a literal king and talks his shit. all facts baby) 

Tendou: “drinking henny out the bottle, lets get ratchet”

Semi: “bad bitches singing all my songs like a prayer”

Other

Sakusa: “Nose in the air cause they fucking disgust me”

Terushima: “I know you used to these women that’s timid. See what i want them I get up and get it” (he a nerd, but listen shooters shoot and he might fail, but he WILL try)