#like it feels impersonal and like it’s out of obligation

[vigilskeep]

I've been going through your Keir Hawke tag because the character absolutely fascinates me and I keep seeing glimpses of Varric and Anders' friendship in that world state (especially something you mentioned about the book originally going to be about Anders) and it's making me feral

What do you think Varric and Anders' relationship is like? What does Varric think about Keir refusing to kill Anders and running off with him?

the thing about varric and keir is that even if they manage to get along in their way, their relationship is basically one of necessity. keir never trusted him in act 1, and varric vastly preferred bethany’s gentleness to keir’s whole uh attitude, but after the deep roads expedition they for various reasons both feel a level of guilt and obligation that sticks them together. you might say they’re more like family than friends, in the sense that with family you don’t have a choice. whereas varric and anders are actually friends, they get along, they joke together. varric finds anders hard to deal with in the later acts but they’re still at the hanged man together, varric is still trying to reach out in his way during banters, anders is trying to leave his possessions to him, etc. and that’s not like with varric and keir where something specific and insane happened to lock them together. he genuinely just likes anders

and varric is creatively interested in anders from the beginning; he’s talking about writing “an epic poem about a hopelessly romantic apostate” in literally the first banter they have. (why did he say hopelessly romantic. why did he say that.) i don’t think it occurs to him that keir even might be material for the protagonist of anything until... maybe the arishok duel, by which time iirc he’s already publishing his serial inspired by, like, aveline and donnic of all people. before that, keir is pretty obvious rags-to-riches plot inspiration but tbh i think varric thought that part was a bit cliché and that even if he did want it, he’d swap out the actual character for someone more likeable, lmao. god knows how or if he was thinking of writing the love interest in the anders-focused version of the book

i don’t think it would have occurred to varric that keir would spare anders and run off into the sunset with him. varric has a very surface-level read on keir, he kind of just sees the red hawke front. i think it’s umm... how do i put this. i think it’s integral to the severity of varric’s reaction to anders in dai that it doesn’t make sense in his head that he himself was more angry than keir, and that he was closer to agreeing with sebastian, the guy who went on to attack kirkwall. i think a lot of people including himself act “out-of-character” in that moment from varric’s perspective, and he finds that very distressing. the rewrite of the book that suddenly centres keir is also him rewriting his memories until everything “fits”. he never liked anders that much, it was hawke, hawke was always really the protagonist and varric has always been on his side, incidentally varric also totally always hated sebastian and is nothing like him, also anders’ actions are 100% sudden and crazy and varric’s anger over them is 100% normal impersonal and justified, etc etc. (to be clear i’m not saying this affects everything we see in da2 and that anders is Maligned in it or whatever. varric’s narrative in da2 is not the same as the book. a very significant amount of the truth slips back in when he has to talk so long, and talk for his life. anders’ sympathetic qualities and their friendship, for example, i can’t imagine that comes up a lot that’s in a book that canonically doesn’t even mention what happened to anders after the explosion.)

varric does not feel particularly normal about any part of the life anders and keir are currently living and he does not like to think about it. he had to rewrite the book into a tragedy to make sense of everything, which conflicts upsettingly with the reality that those two are... honestly simply not tragic. obviously they went through hell. but the mage rebellion is achieved. anders and keir are both visibly better in body and mind for being out of kirkwall. they do get married! it was varric’s home (a city keir hated) that got destroyed (by anders). and varric’s the one left on his own. and the one audibly kind of miserable and guilty and homesick and generally Doing Bad during a lot of inquisition. i think he finds that comparison very hard to even think about. it’s easier to see and analyse tragedy in other people like an impartial observer, than reckon with the fact that it was actually you it happened to and the people you miss and blame and feel bad for in equal measure are kind of just... doing fine? (without you. better the moment they left your city behind.)

(note: i am never arguing “the book was meant to be about anders” as a general headcanon, i just know it to be true in my worldstate)

[koroart]

You ever think about what would happen if your Lambert meet Canon Dimitri in Azure moon, seeing what happens during the post time skip?

You have no idea of the beast you just unleashed, my friend.

I though about this scenario SO MUCH -- Like, how it would happen idk, maybe some weird kinda magic that transported Lambert himself to an alternate timeline ( in this case the canon timeline ) and him meeting Dimitri just --- HHHH ( under read more because I'm insane for this )

He would instantly know that's his boy -- because what parent wouldn't recognize their own child? And he feels his heart hurting for him because, he can see how haunted his boy is, how the guilt he felt weights heavy on his mind.

And Dimitri, and it's either Feral!Dimitri or Post-Gronder Dimitri, take your pick - tired and thinking it's Lambert’s phantom, just pleading at him to leave him be. And when he realizes Lambert is more solid and isn't screaming at him for blood and vengeance, Dimitri will probably lash out just "NO, YOU'RE NOT REAL!!!" Maybe even actively tries to harm Lambert, calling him an imposter, maybe thinking he's an Imperial soldier trying to get the hit on him. Enraged and saying how DARE YOU IMPERSONATE MY FATHER!!

But Lambert would never dare raise a hand to his child, but he does stop Dimitri from attacking him, trying to help him calm down and realize that he is real, that he's here.

When Dimitri is calm enough, Lambert would just reach up and cup his face, tilting his head up so that he may look into his eyes, or eye in this case - eyes that once shined so brightly with hope and childlike wonder. Dimitri would look into Lambert’s, he does not see pity in those blue eyes so much like his own, he sees worry and love -- and for a moment, the cries in his head are silent as his rage subsides and the realization that his father is here sinks in.

Lambert would smooth back Dimitri's hair, like he used to when Dimitri was just a child, comforting and warm -- and say with such sadness and love in his deep voice--

" What has happened to you, my Sun and Stars?"

That's Dimitri's breaking point. The cry that escapes him is reminiscent of that of a wounded animal, and he all but falls into his father's arms. Suddenly he's a boy again, he's that 13 year old boy who watched his father die in front of him and there was nothing he could have done to save him. He's no longer the man who was out for revenge for the dead or the battle weary prince. He's just a boy again, a boy who missed his father.

The air is filled with Dimitri's anguished howls, and he's clinging to Lambert like his life depended on it. Lambert just holds him back, just as tightly, his own eyes filled with tears as he listened to his son's wailing. The goddess herself can not make him let go of his only and most precious son.

Dimitri probably cries for a long time, not that Lambert would mind, he'd hold him forever if he has to.

I think eventually they would talk, and Lambert, I feel, would speak some sense to Dimitri -- he doesn't want his son to tread down this path any further than he has to. He has no obligation to the dead -- because they're dead and that Dimitri needed to live for himself and their people. It's a realization that Lambert’s himself finally began to grasp too. Dimitri would give one of those soft and sobbing laughs, saying how Rodrigue had said the same thing before he died ( Lambert’s heart breaks at that news...he thinks of his Rodrigue back in his own timeline, who's alive and well and probably worried sick )

Lambert probably blames himself a lot for the mindset Dimitri had developed-- because he too believed that he was a tool for the Kingdom, that his life was not his own because of his position as King ( mentioned in Dimitri’s supports with Gilbert/Gustave! ) and he probably would apologize so much to Dimitri.

Apologizes for being that bad example and for leaving him behind in this timeline, at least.

Dimitri would probably say that he should have done more to save Lambert and everyone and Lambert is the one to get into his head -- " You were just a boy, Mitya -- what could you have done?" Dimitri probably cries some more because god knows he needs a good cry.

They probably talk for a long time, sitting down in the empty and broken cathedral and Dimitri is holding Lambert’s hand tightly, unable to even bear an inch away from his father-- he needs that reminder that he's real and here. How long he's not sure, but part of Dimitri prays that it's forever.

And idk, maybe Lambert helps out a bit in the war effort ( after everyone gets over the fact that the former King of Faerghus is HERE?? WHAT THE FUCK?? They're all just looking at Dimitri like??? And Dimitri is just i dont fucking know either but im not complaining ) Lambert has to return to his timeline, how idk maybe he was just on a small time limit and sadly he and this Dimitri would have to part ways.

Dimitri, despite knowing this, shakingly pleads for his father to stay -- not to leave him alone again and that he missed him so much. Holding onto his father's hands tightly, even as he can feel Lambert fading away --

Lambert would smile at his son, warm and fatherly, just as Dimitri remembers and they hug again. Lambert telling Dimitri that he's sorry for leaving again and that he wished he could have been a better father for him in this time -- Dimitri saying that's not true and that he should have been a better son.

And Lambert just -- *sobs* just holds Dimitri's face in his hands again and tells him, with so much love and warmth " You are more than I could have ever hoped for-- You, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, are my pride and joy. You are a leader, a hero, a king for our people. You embody every ideal we strive for...what more could a father ever ask for?"

He would kiss Dimitri's forehead and wipe away his tears, " My time with you was the greatest gift our Goddess could bestow upon me. I will always cherish you, Dimitri, cherish you beyond imagining." ( everyone in the bg is probably crying or trying not to, I know I'd be sobbing my eyes out )

Dimitri is crying but he's smiling, even as he can feel his father's visage fading and even as Lambert fades -- he still says to Dimitri--

"Now go forth from here and use your wisdom and your strength for our people, for the world. Be brave, loving, and compassionate - be the King you and I both know you are." Lambert chuckles for a moment, bright and maybe even a little mischievous, " And have a little fun while you're at it~"

Dimitri, with a shaky and tearful smile says. " I love you, Father...I love you so much!"

" And I love you, Dimitri. I will always love you..."

With a final smile, Lambert would fade from the canon timeline and return to his own.

Where, after telling everyone he is okay and all ( and making sure to give Rodrigue a big fat smooch) , he will find his Dimitri and hold his son close. He never wants to see the light fade away from his son's eyes, and he will do all be can to be a better example and live for both himself, his son, and his people.

[ohthewh0rror]

YOU TOLERATE IT.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — “hey i love your writing. Can you write a tom riddle x reader with tolerate it by taylor swift”

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I’m starting to realize Tom is perpetually broke in most of the one-shots I write about him, but like, it’s the late 40’s and bro is working in retail while living in the city. My man is not gonna be rolling in money by any means (lmao). Also, let’s act like living together unmarried is cool in the 40’s.

“I know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it”

The bitter December winds left you shaking, the cold seeping beneath the layers of your clothes and settling deep into your skin. Winter was never your favorite time of year, it was far too cold and wet for your liking. The only good thing that came out of this wretched month was your lover's birthday, which is what brought you out of your flat and out into this dreary weather.

Tom may not care much about celebrating his birthday, seeing it as just another day of the year, but you always tried to do something special for him anyway. The past three years you had bought a cake and a handful of little gifts, but money was tighter than usual this year, as your hours had been nearly cut in half, leaving the two of you to rely more on Tom’s salary at Borgin and Burkes, so just a single present with no cake would have to suffice this time. To make up for only getting one thing, you decided to get him something special, and it took almost 3 months of saving and cutting corners in certain areas just to save up for the gift you were getting for him.

It was a limited edition book Tom had been eyeing for a while. You weren’t exactly sure what it was on, as Tom wasn’t one to share his work or research with you, but it seemed awfully important to him. So, with the little money you had saved you set out for the day to purchase it. Luckily the store was fairly empty, letting you get in and out quickly, now all that was left was to get home and find the right time to give it to him.

Stepping through the door of your shared flat had never felt like such a relief from the biting cold that was unable to reach you here in the warmth of yours and Tom’s place. You were careful to hang your coat and purse on the appropriate hooks, knowing Tom would ask you to straighten it if it wasn’t placed in the correct spots. You placed the bag containing his gift on the countertop, not bothering to hide it, as you knew Tom wouldn’t ask about it.

While you were happy to see Tom, he didn't seem to share the sentiment as he only spared you a quick glance before going back to reading the documents that sat before him on the table, the work before him apparently far more interesting than you at the moment. You tried not to be disappointed as you walked to him, rounding the table to where he was sitting. You least hoped to receive a ‘hello’ kiss from him, but, as you dipped down to place a kiss on his lips he flinched away from your touch causing you to stop where you were.

You could feel his breath fan across your face as your face hovered close to his, a feeling of hurt spreading through you. Tom must have seen the look on your face because he quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, darling, you took me off guard.”

Meeting you the rest of the way, he gave you a quick kiss, but you were still unsatisfied. His kiss seemed detached, almost impersonal, as if he was doing the action out of obligation and not love. You tried not to think too hard on it as Tom has never been very passionate, but it seemed like lately the love that was once there was being replaced by indifference. You knew every relationship had its ups and downs, but it was still difficult to work through as your presence felt as if it was being merely tolerated instead of sought after.

“Have you eaten lunch yet? I can make us something,” you offered, hoping he’d agree to it, as you couldn’t guarantee he’d be here for dinner and you wanted to give him his present. Tom gave you a simple ‘that’s fine’, before going back to his papers, leaving you to get to work.

As you made lunch you told Tom about your day and other small happenings in your life, just trying to make conversation with him. What Tom was working on must have been important because he was quieter than usual, not giving more than a one or two word answer. “—I mean, can you imagine?” You asked with a giggle drawing your lengthy story to an end, expecting to hear Tom’s amused voice in response.

Instead you were met with the opposite, “come again? I didn’t hear what you said.” Tom sounded unimpressed, making you falter, another wave of disappointment sweeping through you at the fact that he wasn’t listening to a word you said. “It’s nothing, just something silly that happened…” you trailed off at the end, not wanting to even bother finishing your sentence. Tom said nothing, and you didn’t bother saying anything else.

You and Tom sat in silence while you both ate, and though it wasn’t tense, it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. At least not to you, who now worried about giving Tom his birthday present. While you shouldn’t be worried about giving it to him, as you knew it was something he actually wanted, you couldn’t help but worry that you’d be met with the same unimpressed response.

You couldn’t just keep the present all night though, and if there was any time to do it, it was now. So, you got out your chair and grabbed the book from the bag it was in off the counter. Walking up to Tom you stopped just before him, causing him to set his fork down and look at you expectantly. You took in a breath before forcing the words out, “Happy 22nd birthday, Tom.” You held the book out to him, and he gently grabbed it from you, reading over the title.

You weren’t sure what you expected. A passionate kiss? A genuine thank you and declaration of love? Or maybe even just a grateful smile? Because what you got was none of that. No, you were met with a strained smile and a small thank you before he went back to eating.

You stood there for a second longer before going back to your seat feeling embarrassed. You saved for so long and put so many of your own wants aside in order to save up for this gift only to get nothing in return. You bit down harshly on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying at how truly unappreciated you felt by him.

Maybe it is time to leave and end things for good, you’re sure he wouldn’t be bothered by the absence of your presence. You could leave and start over, get a new job, a new place and find someone else.

Someone who actually loved and appreciated you.

But as you looked up from your plate and gazed upon his face you knew that you’d never be able to just up and leave. It would only leave you with a heavy ‘what-if’ hanging in the back of your mind. What if you were just overthinking his actions lately and this was just a normal rough patch? What if you hadn’t left? Would it have worked out?

You didn’t want to live with that ‘what if’, you would stay until he forced you away. So you keep quiet about your displeasure and just sit and watch him flip through the book, dreaming of a life where Tom is as madly in love with you as you are with him.

[spanishskulduggery]

Hi, Could you maybe explain what the difference between „tener que“ and „hay que“ is? can they be used interchangeably or are they for specific things?

They kind of mean the same thing, but hay que feels impersonal

tener que + hacer algo is "have to (do something)" and it's usually conjugated for people, like tienes que hacer, tengo que hacer, tenemos que hacer...

With hay que it's only ever hay que

Most people translate hay que as "you have to", but it's more specifically "one must" - it reads as something that should be done or should not be done, not anyone's specific obligations if that makes sense

As an example - hay que tener en cuenta is translated as "keep in mind"

It's more literally "one should keep in mind" [lit. "one must keep in account/memory"]

But because it's impersonal it comes out as "be aware", "keep in mind", or "don't forget" - while tienes que tener en cuenta is more specifically "you have to keep in mind" as in YOU must do this

-

This might help a bit more:

hay que can come across like a signpost kind of thing, something directed at anyone but no one specifically

tener que is directed at people specifically thus the conjugation

[lambinthemachine]

One thing I don't see talked about is the scene in ep. 3 season 2 when Aziraphale and Crowley are talking to the doctor, and how the doctor is describing how the malignant tumor Aziraphale was holding came from a boy who died. And clearly this entire episode is a pivotal moment in Aziraphales development, but that particular scene is so important to me. How Aziraphale hugs the jar closer, and the look of remorse and grief on his face.

(this!!!)

Throughout the series Aziraphales been shown to care a lot about humanity, but to me it's always been a sort of obligation thing. Like oh yeah I'm an angel it's in my job description to care about you weirdos. And it's been shown that Aziraphale clearly cares about human history and achievements and all that, or else he wouldn't have tried half as much to save the world. But up until this point it's always felt a bit impersonal. During the flood, he doesn't fret as much over the humans as Crowley does. I'm sure he was concerned and felt sorry for them, but he doesn't really know what to say about it, because its Gods will. At the time, God's will triumphed over everything, even his love for humanity. Which to me is why he seems a bit cold to the poor in Edinburgh in 1827, because to him God has given them everything they need to live a good life, they simply made the wrong choices.

And that's a philosophy I feel can come off as very dismissive or apathetic, but it's clear that Aziraphale is neither of those things. He still feels bad, and genuinely tries to make a difference by giving advice to the grave robber and trying to stop her from making more poor decisions, his way of trying to help or "save" her while still adhering to God's will. ("An angel who tries to go along with Heaven as long as he can." Or something like that) But with the doctor and Crowleys clever input, his eyes are kinda opened. Or at least he realizes some stuff. And at that moment, when he's holding the jar, I feel like he's kind of realizing that that was a real, human life. Not just a tumor, or some illegal deal, or a hunk of flesh. That tumor had been part of a very alive little boy with all of the potential to be good, just for that to taken away by a very mortal thing. And with that I think he starts to understand a little more the helplessness that comes with being human, and the bad things that are sometimes necessary to preserve what is good. (the research using stolen bodies/organs)

While yes technically God did give people all they need to be good, with the cards dealt just by life, you can't always just be good. For Aziraphale this is kinda where the fact that God doesn't care/not everything is under Her control is brought to light. All these realizations that have been developing for a while coming to a head in this one moment is why I think we see Aziraphale be so sympathetic and caring over the jar, ex: pulling it closer to his chest and zoning out of the conversation for a sec. Also the natural care of being an angel.

[triviallytrue]

A bit over halfway through Frieren

Things I like:

I think they did a really good job with making Frieren feel immortal - the way she fritters away time and takes people for granted, and the ways it bites her in the end.

Stark is a good character, especially compared with a lot of other warrior types. I like the way he deals with fear without letting it get annoying, and I really like his willingness to say "let me go call our ridiculously powerful mage to handle the problem instead of us risking our lives." The kind of intelligence you rarely see in anime

Relatedly I really liked the episode where he impersonated that guy's kid. I think the part where he was analogizing the younger son's relationship with his dad to his own relationship with his dad (younger son of a strict father with a prodigious older brother) and he felt obligated to speak out, but then it turned out the relationship wasn't like that, was pretty interesting.

I think having Himmel be rejected by the sword was a good choice. Humans get to decide who the true heroes are and all that.

I like the ambiguous take on religion in the setting. Too many settings just say "actually god(s) is/are real in this setting" and then still import the vibes of real life religion, which doesn't work very well.

I think "this spell is very powerful demon magic" -> "this spell has become ordinary offensive magic due to human analysis and adaptation" -> "no actually Frieren taught you a ridiculously powerful modified version designed to kill demons" was a fun double bait and switch.

Things I don't like:

A lot of people have pointed out that the demon thing is problematique, but I think the worse sin is that it's just fucking stupid. Yeah man I'm sure that a village chief would try to adopt a demon that ate a child just because it looked sad and said words. This is definitely something a person would do.

Same thing with the "letting demons in to negotiate" thing. Like, okay, we've got a magic barrier and we're fighting a war. Why don't we let the demons inside the barrier to negotiate despite never ever having successful negotiations with them in the past and the fact that individual demons can be much stronger than any of the humans we have. And then while they're here we won't keep a consistent guard on them or anything either, they can just fuck off and kill people. I am very smart.

Look, it's one thing to construct a setting where xenophobia is Correct, Actually but it's another to do it in such an ass backwards way

[zahri-melitor]

Okay a loose Recent Reads roundup:

Birds of Prey: Sirens of Justice: so I was lured (tricked) into reading this as Gail Simone wrote one of the stories, even though it, sigh, contains far too much Harley Quinn due to movie synergy. The Dinah and Helena banter is decent, but otherwise this felt...aggressively fine. The Helena story is very pat in terms of how people tend to write Huntress shorts, though I guess it wasn't 'Helena worries about a student' this time.

The Question: The Deaths of Vic Sage: very much in conversation with O'Neil's run, of course, and also clearly reacting to contemporaneous US racial discussions. Shifting Myra to be the Mayor's sister not wife definitely alters her position in the narrative, particularly in terms of her obligations and response to situations. It is incredibly bleak in places, but that simply reflects the run it is based on and is a tribute to.

Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen: This is definitely for the Silver Age fan. Matt Fraction manages to string together solving a complex assassination plot over 12 issues by telling the story in short, 2-4 page sections that wildly jump around the timeline and are framed by 'the many ridiculous things that have happened to Jimmy Olsen'. I have absolutely no handle on the canonicity of some of this, particularly the extended Olsen family, and not knowing probably makes this read more easily. Looking at it as a whole, I'm impressed how well Fraction stitched what was effectively episodic 2 page fills into a complete narrative. The energy of the story is relentless. Best read in small doses.

Batman: Pennyworth R.I.P: god this comic could have been so much better than it was. It’s fine and accomplishes exactly what it was intended to do - tell a story of how Alfred influenced and looked out for each of Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Barbara - and sets everyone up to be mildly pissed at Bruce. But just for one example, it would have been HUGELY more powerful if they’d been able to use Dick, with his memories just restored, facing the fact he wasn’t there when Alfred needed him and his last interactions were so impersonal and spent pushing Alfred away.

Catwoman 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular: again, underwhelming. Tom King played shipper and wrote his version of how the Helena Wayne story should work; the Dixon story felt 90s appropriate but the art was dire; Brubaker’s felt like a missing scene to his run; Dini’s honestly wasn’t up to the standard I’d hope for from Dini. The art pieces were great though; a lot of good commissions.

Robin 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular: I cannot work out who chose the covers used in the issue, which swing between 'iconic' and 'reminding everyone ASBAR exists was unnecessary, DC'.

Generally: they did manage to round up fairly iconic lineups for most of the stories, with some chopping and changing for a few.

Wolfman got another run at trying to frame the 'Dick quits v Bruce fires him' debate; Dixon and Grayson both submitted literal fills (Dixon's is a scene immediately after Nightwing #19 1996 and before #20; Grayson's is at least just an extra story that fits into #1-12 of her Titans 1999 run on a day all the second stringers didn't come to work). I don't actually have a problem with any of these - they're nice additional material, but mostly more of the same. Seeley & King's suffers from the usual Seeley problem for me where it would be vastly improved by having a different focus; but it does feel straight out of his Grayson run, with everything that implies (down to the St Hadrian's student I wish was not present). All of the Dick stories are basically "we got the team back together" creative line ups.

Jason, in contrast, makes it really obvious that nobody can define a definitive Jason run, and so gets the tiniest story with Winick and Dustin Nguyen. I checked, and Nguyen did draw part of UTRH, but I wouldn't have associated him as a character-defining artist for Jason. The story's cute. Winick sidestepped having to commit to anything about his opinions on post-Flashpoint Jason direction.

Tim got Adam Beechen (which honestly makes me happy, I don't care about anyone else's opinion) and luxuriates in Tim having to play civilian; Tynion gets a Rebirth story that I can't quite work out his timing on (it's supposed to be a prequel, but Dick is already back in costume as Nightwing and talking to Tim, suggesting that several issues of the Rebirth Nightwing take place significantly before 'Tec #934) that is a classic 'Tim tells everyone how he feels about his brothers' story. I realise everyone boring has complained about Tim calling Damian a 'horrible gremlin' but the thing is you see I can only read nicknames like that as full of affection. The back and forth is an important part of their relationship, as shown by Damian snapping 'you're only listening to the insults'.

Steph gets her 71 days as Robin slightly padded out and Amy Wolfram manages to pick up Willingham's tone pretty well; I suspect she liaised with Damion Scott quite a bit on this piece.

Damian has a Super Sons piece from Tomasi, because it's the most lighthearted option available and it sells very well (it's sickly sweet). Which was probably the right call as the other piece is clearly written by Robbie Thompson to accompany his Teen Titans run and for the downward spiral going on there. Which is honestly a bit of a pity for Damian, given everyone else got feature pieces from favourite runs, and he got the 'this slots into your current story' piece.

[fallenangelblade]

sam mentioning john’s journal to mia in 13x04 got me thinking. it’s sort of odd that neither of the brothers started keeping their own hunting journal after john’s death.

on one hand, you have sam - the academic, the scholar, the archivist, the legacy. it’s practical to keep a record of things, especially once they started encountering phenomena not already touched upon by john, sigils and spells and lore he spent hours of research on. wouldn’t he want that all in one place? (i’m sure he had a very robust cataloging system once he’d settled into the MoL bunker, and probably kept a lot of things digitally prior to that, but you get what i mean)

and then there’s dean, who’s always leaned more towards the sentimental, especially when it comes to his dad, his family. journaling was part of the job for john, and you’re telling me dean wouldn’t pick up the practice in an attempt to carry on his father’s work? to feel close to his dad after he was gone? out of a sense of obligation, at least?

i can just picture the way it would start off impersonal, stilted. just dates, locations, bare bones, basic info about their hunts. he’d grumble about not knowing what else to say, feeling stupid talking to himself. but over time, he’d start adding little doodles in the margins. photographs. recipes. personal notes — bits and pieces of backstory for his LARP character that charlie helped him create. claire’s favorite snacks so he remembers what to add to the shopping list when she’s coming to visit. sam’s go-to order at that vegan place in omaha for when they’re coming home from jody’s. a list of movies to watch with cas, crossing them out as they go.

and maybe eventually he'd start writing about more personal things. it might start with the mark of cain, when he stops drinking and starts eating healthier and sleeping 8 hours a night. he turns to the journal as an outlet to process the things that are still too dangerous to say to anyone else. maybe he writes about his complicated feelings for amara. the gaping wound of his mother's absence and the painful guardedness that came with having her back. maybe he'd write about losing cas.

Drove west today until I found a nice field. Everything's flowering right now so it was real pretty. Spread Cas' ashes there, right near this old windmill. Don't really know why I chose that spot, but it felt right. I guess it just seemed like the kind of place he'd like. It was quiet there. Peaceful. It's not heaven, but hopefully it's close enough.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Picasso | aftermath

Graduating university brings plenty of emotions; pride, excitement, accomplishment, even the feeling of losing adolescence. Before their era of study draws to a close, Sam finds one more way to make the experience unforgettable for Picasso.

Read Picasso here

Pairing: sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: literally just fluff!! some swearing, too!sorry if i miss any!

hey so i wasn’t going to do this, but i couldn’t help myself ahahah. i didn’t want to make Picasso into a series, mostly because i loved the characters too much to write anything other than sweetness for them, and i always tend to throw in a bit of tension with longer stories. besides, everyone reads a series for a happy ending, right? but, i did want to write some more fluffiness because i grew super attached to these characters in specific. so, enjoy the little glimpse at happiness i wrote for them! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

~

“Stop moving!” You expelled, a giggle falling from your lips.

“I didn’t move!” Sam shot back, a laugh hidden in his defence.

“Clearly you did! If you didn’t, why is your Bass facing the wall, now?” The question caused a look of surprise to cross his face. He looked down at the instrument, unable to argue the point. “Don’t lie to me, Samuel!” You continued to look over the top of the canvas, hoping to catch his eye for a moment. Redness was riddled across your skin, the constant ghost of laughter stuck in your throat, and the urge to throw your paintbrushes down and run over to kiss him was growing by the second. He glanced over at you, doing his absolute best to keep his body still.

“It’s hard, okay? I don’t think I’ve ever sat still for this long in my entire life!”

“You were the one who insisted we do it this way, so stop complaining.” You reminded him, looking over the glisten of wet paint on the previously white material.

“Can’t a man change his mind?”

“No, actually.” You nudged your fingertip against the spot you’d just brushed the bristles against, smoothing out the dollop of paint that laid on a bit too thick. “In your words, a reference photo is ‘impersonal and boring’. If you want to be a live model so bad, then shut up and enjoy it.”

“You’re mean to me, you know. You used to be so nice.” He chided, but obliged to your request. He kept his position, both of you knowing that the argument was only in good fun.

“Then I got to know you.” You grumbled.

“Ouch,” you ran a few thin strokes of white paint through the mess of brown you’d used for his hair. “I don’t have to take this abuse.” He informed you.

“God, you talk a lot!” You exclaimed, a grin eating away at your lips. “The more you distract me, the longer this is going to take!”

“Fine,” he replied, much like a toddler who couldn’t get his way. You both fell back into silence, your hands working while your eyes familiarized yourself with him even more, if it were even possible.

In truth, you were almost finished with the portrait. You were dragging it out just a little bit longer because of his refusal to comply. You’d been working for a few hours, now, focused solely on your final piece for the semester. Portraits were your least favourite type of painting, but the process was much more enjoyable with him as the subject. This was your seventh and final session, the weeks of hard work finally coming to a close. You were almost sad to wrap up the project, mostly because it meant your uninterrupted one-on-one time would be coming to an end, too. Not that it would disappear completely, though. You were sure you’d both find another way to engross yourself in one another. It was just how you worked; yours and Sam’s lives were almost unbearably intertwined, starting from the very beginning and only worsening as time went on.

The end of your university experience was drawing to a close. This class was your final credit needed to graduate, and you were determined to go above and beyond. There was no doubt in your mind that this would do the trick, but even you had to admit you were a tad bit biased. In your opinion, anything that had to do with Sam was awe-inspiring. The piece was your largest to date; it was nearly half your height and was about just as wide. To you, it didn’t matter. You’d paint murals if it meant you got to showcase the beauty of Sam Kiszka. In the journey of loving him, this was your biggest profession of romance, to date.

Starting all the way back in freshman year, he’d managed to win your heart simply by existing. By chance, you’d managed to catch his attention, too. If Danny had not been such a meddler, you would never be where you are, now. After that first night of emotional confession, your’s and Sam’s lived seemed to intertwine as if it were written in the stars to be that way. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates, late nights at the studio where he watched you work, sneaking into the music conservatory to listen to him play, and many nights spent in each others beds lead to an undeniable connection. You’d fallen in love with each other before you’d ever shared a word, and it only grew stronger as time passed.

In your second year, you’d gotten a tiny studio apartment for yourself and continued on with your studies while off-campus. Sam and Danny moved in together just down the street, leaving an even bigger opportunity for your relationship to grow. By the time third year rolled around, you and Sam were beyond dedicated to each other. Danny had quickly worked his way to being your best friend in the entire world, and you finally seemed to find that sense of belonging you’d spent your entire life searching for. In your third year, it was unspoken that you’d be moving in with them, too. That year, you had the opportunity to meet his family, and with their soaring approval, you solidified your home in his heart. Now, three years later, you were still as in love with him as you were in the beginning.

It had been a lifetimes worth of music, art, and laughter. Never a fear of standing in each others way, because you were both always each others biggest fans. Never a question of doubt, or limitation, because you became professionals at growing alongside each other. He wasn’t your reason to live, or anything as dramatic of the sorts, but he certainly made life better. Every moral, memory, and purpose remained the same, they just grew to include him, too. You’d left your hometown in hopes of self-discovery, and you found it, along with so much more. There was never a need to leave and search for more, because you’d found everything you needed within the walls of that run down-residence building.

“I’m done,” you breathed, a toothy smile breaking out on your face. His eyes lit up, almost as if he couldn’t believe your words. He made a move to stand, but you held your hand up to stop him. “Hold on!” you took another look over at him. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of adoration at the sight. The rays of sunlight were filtering through the window and hitting him perfectly, casting a golden glow over his already breathtaking features. A small smile danced on his lips, but it almost permanently resided there. You were certain he wasn’t even aware of it. His hair was practically shining in the light, and his eyes remained on you, so full of love and letting you know it without even having to speak it aloud. You checked over the painting, ensuring you had every detail perfect. “Yeah, it’s done.” You beamed.

“Can I see?” A glimmer of hope twinkled in his eye. You hadn’t let him see it at all, wanting the grand finale to take him as a shock.

“Yeah,” you nodded, holding your hand out to him. He stood, placing his bass on its stand in the corner of the room. He approached you with caution, scared that you may change your mind. When you didn’t protest, he grabbed hold of your hand and laced his fingers through yours. You gave him a gentle pull towards you, ushering him closer. Before looking at the canvas, he leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips. You gave a hum of satisfaction, happy for the gesture. “Ready?” He nodded, hesitant to pull back from you.

He took a step back, eyes taking in the portrait before him. A few minutes passed before he spoke; he wanted to appreciate it as much as he could. “Y/n, this is… phenomenal.” He said, leaning closer to get a better look. “I don’t think I’ve ever looked that pretty.” You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his statement.

“I was actually worried I didn’t do you any justice.” You admitted. You took the time to examine the piece, too.

He was sat on a stool, head tilted towards the ceiling with his hair cascading down his back, giving the best view of his face. The neck of his bass guitar was held in his hand, the body propped on his foot which was resting on one of the rungs of the stool. It was turned towards you at an angle, used more as an accessory rather than a centre. You added some hanging plants in the background, vines standing prominent against the beige wall. On his left, you showcased the window which had been casting the glow over him. He looked ethereal, although to you, that was completely normal.

“Justice?” He scoffed. “This is…” he paused, trying to put his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I don’t even have the right words for this, baby. It looks like you took the picture with a camera.” He let his hand fall on your upper back, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.

“Worth the wait?” You asked, looking up to him.

“Very much so.” He assured you. “Are you submitting this for the contest, too?”

“I was thinking about it.” You admitted. The university was holding a competition for the upper year art students. The prize was money, but that didn’t really matter to you. What mattered was showing off your work, and your beautiful boyfriend in the process. It was more of a show of luck; bragging, even. “Wasn’t sure if I was going to enter at all, but I’m thinking that I should at least try. If I submit this one, I’ll have to win. Bet they’ve never seen a portrait of someone this beautiful.” You smiled. He let out a chuckle, leaning down and placing a kiss on your head.

“Only way it could have been better is if you painted a picture of yourself.” You felt the familiar blush rise to your cheeks, one he never had any trouble causing. “You know, I’m glad we use this room for this stuff.” He hummed, taking in the overflowing mess of art supplies and instruments. When you all moved in, you and Sam had claimed the extra room for all things art and music. Danny had no issue with it, spending just as much time in there with you both. It saved both of you from having to travel to campus to work, and gave you some extra bedroom space by not having to store all of your stuff in there with you.

“Me, too.” You agreed.

“When we get our own house, I want your art everywhere.” He whispered. “It deserves to be shown off,” you turned your head to look up at him, giving him a smile. “Just like you.” He took your face in his hand, leaning down and giving you another kiss.

“You’re just being nice because you finally got me to paint a portrait of you.” You teased. He’d been hinting at the idea since you’d started dating, but you’d always brushed it off. You vowed you would someday, but you wanted to have all the knowledge and practice you needed before attempting to recreate such a beautiful scene. At the end of your degree, you finally decided to take him up on the offer, feeling ready for the challenge. To date, it was your most prized creation. Less so for the work you put into it, more so because it was a picture of him.

“I’m always nice to you.” His lips turned down into a frown. You pulled him into another kiss, quickly erasing the expression away. When he pulled back, you were almost sad at the loss of contact. Still, years later, you were just as excited to kiss him, or touch him, or speak with him. It was like you’d never moved on from the honeymoon stage; the love and the adoration all the same, just with the added bonus of knowing him completely. He was your best friend more so than your partner. He made the happiness a little bit bigger, and the sadness a little less intense. You were hopelessly in love with him, still pining over him like you used to while sitting alone in your dorm room. The difference though, was now you got to share a life with him. It was a beautiful thing to crush on someone while actively getting to love them. “We better get ready if we’re gonna make that dinner reservation.” He said, noticing the time on the clock behind you.

“Oh, yeah! I forgot about that.” You admitted, feeling a bit guilty.

“I didn’t,” he smiled, hoping you didn’t notice the hint of nervousness behind his eyes. You got up, removing your apron and hanging it on one of the hooks on the wall. You left the canvas there, figuring it would dry enough to move it by the time you got back. You cleaned up your paints and brushes and put them all away while Sam helped where he could. He knew you liked to keep them in a certain way, so he tried to aid without overstepping or disrupting your organization.

You both went back to your shared bedroom, searching for an outfit suitable for the restaurant Sam had chosen. He didn’t give you much information, aside from telling you it was fancy and your reservation was for 6. You grabbed a dress from your closet, eyeing it for a while before deciding it was good enough. You brought it to the bathroom, showering quickly and changing into it. You blow dried your hair and threw on some makeup, spritzing on some perfume before checking yourself in the mirror. You let out a noise of triumph, satisfied with your work. When you joined Sam, he was changed into a pair of black jeans and a button up, cuffed up to the elbows. He’d thrown on cologne, the smell immediately enveloping you and inviting you in. His hair was hanging down, framing his face, perfectly showcasing his features.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, looking you up and down.

“You look pretty good yourself,” you complimented, approaching him and placing a kiss to his cheek. He turned his head, capturing your lips in a real kiss before you got away.

“Ready?” He asked, giving you a smile. He was fidgeting with his hands, unsure of what to do with them. To busy them, he threw on a jacket, checking his pockets a few times before looking back to you, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” you nodded, grabbing a light jacket for yourself. You picked some nice shoes from the closet, slipping them on and reaching for his hand. He took it, almost immediately relaxing at the feeling. You both left the room with no more words exchanged.

As you made your way to the front door, you passed Danny in the kitchen. He gave a wave, engrossed in whatever textbook he had on display in front of him. He looked up only for a moment to give a smile. “Big date night?” He asked, taking in your attire. You gave a nod, a small smile on your lips.

“You, too, I see.” You joked.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “One last exam and then I’m a free man.”

“I just finished my last project, too.” You beamed. Sam was finished a week ago, his degree practically in his hand already.

“We’re all grown up, now.” Danny said, looking between both of you.

“If that’s what you’d like to call it.” Sam chuckled.

“You guys better go if you’re gonna make the reservation.” Danny said, checking his watch. You tilted your head to the side, curious as to why Danny was so aware of the specifics of your date. “Don’t have too much fun, and be home before ten.” He sent a wink in Sam’s direction.

“Will do.” Sam gave him a joking salute. With that, he continued to guide you towards the front door. As you stepped outside, the sun warmed your face, causing a smile. The wind was still cool, but the essence of summer was knocking on the door, practically ready to burst through. You both walked down the street wordlessly, content with the company and the promise of a good night. The joys of living so close to campus also meant that there were plenty of stores and restaurants within walking distance, too.

It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, only a few minutes at your casual pace. When you arrived, Sam held the door for you. You smiled to yourself, instantly reminded of the memory of the first dinner you shared together. He entered behind you, wasting no time snaking his arm around your waist. He walked up to the worker who was seating customers and let him know his name. Without hesitation, he led you both to a corner booth. Your eyes took in the sight around you, marvelling at the fanciful decor and structure of the building. You slid in one side and Sam sat across from you. With a bid of a good night and a pair of menus, you two were left alone.

Sam was back to fidgeting with his hands, unsure of what to do with himself. You reached across the table, placing your hand atop of his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “What’s up?” You asked, curious once more.

“I don’t know, just nervous I guess.” He let out a small laugh.

“What are you nervous for? It’s just me, Sammy.”

“I know.” He responded. “I’m always nervous around pretty girls.” He smiled. Your anxiety was soothed, happy to hear some normalcy from him. “So, you know how we were talking about moving to Frankenmuth for a while?” He asked. You nodded, wondering where he was going with the question.

“I found a spot, and I think you’ll like it.” He said, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone. You grinned, eager to see what he’d discovered. He was incredibly excited to be moving in together, just the two of you. You’d decided you would stay in his hometown for a while, just to figure life out before settling down permanently. You both agreed that access to family was a good idea, and there was no way in hell you would move back to your hometown. Plus, over the years, his family had become your own, anyhow. You both had been apartment hunting with no real intent; neither of you had found one that caught your eye.

He pulled up a picture, showing you the listing. You took his phone, swiping through the photographs. With each picture, you found yourself falling more in love with the place. When you reached the end, you gave an eager nod. “That’s the one, I think.” He smiled, letting out a small sigh of relief.

“Josh actually sent it to me, so we can thank him.” He admitted.

“You had your brothers on the hunt, too?” You laughed.

“Everyone, actually.” He admitted, cheeks dusted with pink. “Wanted to find the perfect spot.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. Anywhere would be perfect as long as I’m with you.” You assured him. He caught your eye, giving you a smile. “But, in terms of perfect places, that’s the one.” You added.

“Then it’s settled.” You handed him his phone back. You both agreed that once you had some money saved, you’d travel the world. You were certain you wanted to be with him, but your craving for experiencing the world had never left. You were grateful that he was so supportive of the idea, and that you’d get to share the memories with him, now. Soon after, you both ordered your food. Sam’s attention fell on a bottle of champagne on the menu, not being able to resist the temptation. You couldn’t find it in yourself to fake a complaint, content with his choice, too. When the waiter returned with two glasses, he was sure to fill yours before his. You sipped at the drink, watching him carefully.

“You know, you never told me why we’re on such a fancy outing.” You were begging for just a sliver of information. He was always taking you on dates, never afraid to show you off, but this one was quite different than the others. Much more serious, and he was being awfully reserved as to why.

“Celebrating.” He said, but that was all.

“Celebrating what, exactly?” He gave a shrug.

“Graduation, adulthood… us.” He grinned.

“We celebrate us everyday, don’t you think?” You laughed.

“Is there an issue with that?” He teased. Before you could reply, your food was brought to the table. Instead of continuing the conversation, you both ate in almost silence, not realizing how hungry you were.

The meal was filled with small chatter, nothing of importance but still fulfilling. Mostly just talk about the future, excitement for the new beginning and verbalized happiness because you both could experience it together. As you were finishing your meal, you were also making noticeable progress with the bottle of champagne. Sam threw the idea of dessert in the air, sparking your interest further. “You’re really treating me, tonight.” You smirked.

“Nothing but the best for you, Picasso.” That was one thing that never changed; the nickname. If anything, it grew to become permanent, almost a rite of passage. You were certain you’d never escape it.

You and Sam settled on sharing a dessert, both too full to handle one of your own. It didn’t take long for that to be presented to you, too. As you both picked away at it, you noticed Sam’s aura change once more. Somewhere between the apartment talk and the second glass of champagne, his anxiety seemed to melt away. Now that the dinner was coming to a close, it was back in full force. You thought he might explode, just by the way his leg was bouncing under the table. His nervousness was producing one in you, too, completely unaware of why he felt such a way.

“Okay, you’ve gotta tell me what’s up.” You gave a little chuckle, catching his attention. “You’re scaring me.”

“No! It’s nothing bad, I promise.” He laughed, catching on to what you were saying and stopping his nervous ticks.

“Then what is it?” You asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“God, you’re pushy.” He smirked. “I love you, but you’ve got no patience.”

“Never have, you know that.” You argued, defending yourself. He looked around, scoping out the restaurant and seeing that it was quite empty, now. “What is it, Sam?”

“Fine.” He placed his fork on the plate, leaning back in his seat and taking a long look over your face. You raised an eyebrow in expectation, not willing to play the game any longer. His hand returned to the pocket of his jacket, searching for something. He waited before moving any further, still looking a bit hesitant. After a moment of a staring contest, he pulled the item out and placed it on the table without a word. “I was gonna do it properly, but someone couldn’t wait any longer.” He snipped, humour very evident in his voice. You paid no mind to his torment, eyes only focused on what he’d presented to you.

“Sam…” you breathed, heart drumming against your chest. All other words got lost in translation, no coherent thought process happening in your brain.

“I know.” He hummed.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends.” He said, eyeing you with caution. “Open it and find out.” You caught his gaze, all of the nerves in your body calming at the sight of him. He gave you a reassuring smile, likely feeling the same way. Still, you were quite content with the staring contest you’d started with the inanimate object. When you didn’t move, he reached for the small velvet box. He carefully pulled the top open, waiting to see your reaction.

“Sam,” You repeated, voice shaky, feeling the prickle of tears threaten to spill over. The intricate design of the diamond ring was breathtaking. It wasn’t over the top; it was small, but perfectly beautiful in its simplicity. You were certain he couldn’t have made a better choice.

“Please tell me those are happy tears.” He chuckled, but you could tell he was nearly bursting with anxiety.

“Yeah, of course they are.” You dismissed his worry, a tone of incredulity taking over. You were almost angry with him for thinking otherwise.

“Oh, thank god,” he sighed. “Didn’t want to do this if you were going to be upset. Would be a lot more embarrassing if you said no.” He joked, sliding out of the booth and holding his free hand out to you. You joined him, and he wasted no time sinking down to one knee. “I know we’re young, but I’d like to believe we’re a lot less childish than we were when we first came here. And if I do remember correctly, all of those years ago, we promised we would do stupid things and learn from them, together. I don’t think this is stupid by any means, but if it is, I’d be happy to add it to my bucket list of things to learn from, with you.” He started, speaking directly from the heart. He’d written and rewritten what he wanted to say a million times, and finally settled on a simple, short mix between everything he could think of.

“I don’t have a lot to say, because there’s no words that could ever amount to anything I feel about you. I could talk for hours and still never be able to explain it right. You’re the love of my life, you’re Picasso. You’re… everything.” He took a deep breath, the profession hitting him harder than he thought it would. “Falling in love with you was easier than falling asleep. Spending the rest of my life with you is the smallest way I can express how much you mean to me. I don’t know what comes after this life, but every day I pray that it involves you, too. I want to spend every lifetime, in every universe with you. What I feel for you is way beyond the years we get to spend here, and I know that there’s nothing that could ever compare. I have the entire world standing in front of me right now, and I’m lucky to even get to experience what it’s like to love you. So, I guess I’m asking if you’ll let me do it forever. Paint me pictures until I run out of places to put them, let me write you songs until you get sick of hearing them. Do stupid shit with me for the rest of our lives, learn with me, grow with me…” he paused. “Marry me, Picasso?”

“Of course I will, Sam.” You laughed as you nodded enthusiastically, the tears finally spilling onto your cheeks. He let out a sigh of relief, slipping the ring onto your finger. “Get off the floor, you look stupid.” You joked. He rolled his eyes, but did as you said.

“That’s what I get for being romantic?” He teased, snaking his arm around your waist.

“I love you, Sam. More than anything.” You placed a hand on his cheek, leaning in for a kiss. He held you there, finally realizing his anxiety had been entirely misplaced. “How long have you been planning this?” You asked when you pulled away.

“Well, forever.” He laughed. “Kinda knew I wanted to marry you since that first night in your dorm room. You were just… special.” He admitted. “I knew I couldn’t propose then, or I’d look pretty idiotic. But I saved every spare cent until I could afford the ring. Been sitting in my dresser for a few months, now. Was just waiting for the right time. Now that we’re done with school, I figured I was in the clear. We’re adults now, remember?” He grinned.

“You’ve known for that long?” He nodded, still holding you close to him. “I have, too, I think.” You felt another blush rise to your cheeks.

“To be honest, I wasn’t planning on doing it here. I was just too nervous, and you were asking questions, and yeah… Danny’s probably got the whole living room decorated for me. He was in on it, too. Was gonna get pictures for us.” He was a bit embarrassed, you could tell just from his voice. Also probably a bit guilty for having Danny do all the work. Even so, the proposal was perfect, and undoubtedly you. The history of your relationship with Sam was long, but mostly based on the heart, and the notion of feeling like you were safe enough to follow your heart. Just as your relationship began, the proposal was in the heat of the moment; the imperfect nature made it all the more remarkable.

“Well… here.” You pulled back from him, slipping the ring off your finger and handing it to him.

“Woah, hold on! You already said yes, and-“

“No, Sammy,” you giggled. “I’m not giving it back, I still would very much like to marry you. Just returning it momentarily. We can do it properly, let Danny get his pictures, have his proud mom moment. Plus… I think I’d like to have the memory forever. Pictures would be great.”

“Oh, okay,” he let out a long exhale. “You scared me.” You both laughed, realizing how wrong the action seemed in the beginning. “You think he’ll know?”

“I’m really good at acting.” You both knew it was a lie; your C in your theatre class looming over your head as you said it.

“Yeah, if anything, practice makes perfect.” He tried to play along. “Actually doing it was much different than practicing in front of a mirror. I practiced with Danny a few times, but he always said no. Was a bit disheartening, really.” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the idea, imagining the picture so clearly.

“That’s a shame. He would’ve looked so pretty in a wedding dress.”

“That’s what I said!” Sam exclaimed. You both died down from your fit of giggles after a moment. “I love you, Picasso.” He breathed.

“I love you so much, Sammy.” And you meant it, forever thankful to the university for placing him across the hall from you. You both gathered your things, paying for the bill and returning to the street. The walk home was quiet, both of you content with the company and already daydreaming about wedding planning.

When you arrived home, all of the lights were off and Danny had taken it upon himself to play some soft music through the record player. At the sound of the door, he immediately took to hiding. Sam guided you to the living room, looking to you with real hope in his eyes. Even if he’d already gotten the answer he wanted, he still wanted to please you. As he proposed the second time, it was much more put together and way less nerve-racking. Still, the tears that spilled were very real, and the enthusiasm in your yes was all the same. Danny managed to sneak a few pictures of the actual event, but saved the majority for the end, not wanting to distract either of you.

Although your performance was grand, Danny was quick to catch on to the fact Sam had let the cat out of the bag. The clarity of his speech and lax attitude was a dead giveaway. He knew Sam had been out of his mind with worry since he’d bought the ring. Even so, he couldn’t find it within himself to be upset, even finding tears in his own eyes for a moment. He was more than happy to be a part of the event, spending the last years being nothing other than your biggest fan. Once the commotion died down and all of the pictures were taken, nobody was sure where to go from there.

“Listen to this one,” Danny said, looking between you both. You watched him in curiosity, wondering what he would say. “Billy Joel and Picasso walk into a wedding venue. You’ll never guess who they run into.” You erupted into a fit of giggles, delighted at the knowledge he remembered your stupid joke from so long ago.

“Hmmm… I wonder who it could be.” Sam placed his fingers to his chin, pretending to think about it.

“Shakespeare!” You exploded, causing them both to laugh.

“Yeah, but he’s not very happy.” Danny said, a smile breaking through his look of false seriousness. “Not only did Picasso steal his boyfriend, but they both told him he was ‘too old, and a ‘dude’,” he air-quoted his last word “as if that means anything,” he grumbled quickly. “So they wouldn’t let him be the flower girl!” You all dissolved into another fit of laughter. “Jokes aside, I’m really happy for you guys. Still holding out hope for the flower girl thing, but happy, nonetheless.” He advanced towards you and pulled you both into a hug.

“You can be the flower girl, Danny. I think you’d look awfully good in a dress.” You mumbled, words slightly muffled due to your head being buried in his shoulder.

“Best news I’ve gotten all day.” He teased. You held onto him for a moment longer and a bit tighter, finally realizing that this was your forever. Surrounded by love and laughter, and never feeling out of place. You were certain life couldn’t get any better, completely satisfied with the little family you’d created together, and eager to keep building it.

[dtupdates-archive]

♡—DREAM replied to a post and a comment on Reddit! A transcript of the long comment is under the cut.

"So many people in this thread are just being ridiculous or saying things that are completely factually wrong. Like you are so pessimistic and hate twitter so much that you feel the need to disagree on everything. Like you can hate twitter and still recognize when a twitter take is right or not criticize everything I do on twitter.

Me asking the fandom to not comment about “body doubles” wearing the mask for required promotional content while I’m literally recovering for surgery, because it takes away from the content, is totally ridiculously okay. Especially given the fact I told them that would be the case in the first place, and far less people would comment on it in the first place. I’m not “policing” anyone, I’m asking and explaining why, as I have done tons in the past because it works because my fans respect me and I respect them (very generally lol). People say it all the time when it’s me under the mask that it’s not because of X or Y or Z and sometimes even those reasonings make me a little uncomfortable, especially in times when it is me.

Or speculating that George or Nick or Ken or whoever is under the mask.

People saying stuff about TikTok stats being terrible and that it’s trash content and not because of fans. First of all, no one’s blaming fans for anything, and it wasn’t even about past content it was seeing everyone comment “Ken” (when it’s not even Ken) on my TikTok and me realizing that would be confusing and could impact views, that’s just how I am, I analyze everything.

And anyone saying “TikTok views are trash because trash content” are just morons. My TikTok views are high, and I’ve uploaded more in the past months than I have like times 30 in the past years. Yea I’ve posted shit ones as well, that comes with trying to post more and more frequently. I’ve gained more followers recently than in years. Some of what I’ve uploaded is high effort skit content, others low quality memes or whatever. But I’m uploading what is fun and unique to me and that’s it and you can not watch it if you don’t like it.

For those complaining so much about the mask, literally just step back and realize how ridiculous you’re being?? Of my last 12 TikTok’s, 6 of them featured the mask. a few of them my face, a few of them Minecraft/normal content I’d make. Most the mask ones were just making fun of me wearing it in public lol. I post snaps in the mask, and also not in the mask. For those saying it makes my music impersonal, I’ve promoted on different platforms in the mask and out of the mask, for that reason lots of the UIEUD music video wasn’t in the mask since that was such an emotional piece. For my tour I plan to have plenty of show elements where I’m wearing the mask, and lots of singing and stuff where I’m not. At TwitchCon Paris I was in and out of the mask, at the boxing event I was in and out of the mask, I take fan photos without the mask. Like you’re far over exaggerating, and you’re forgetting I WAS A FACELESS CREATOR, I made 100% of my content without showing my face, AND I said I didn’t plan on showing my face all the time after, said I wouldn’t do face-cam streams, etc. If your complaint is that you’d rather see no person than me in the mask, then you’re just trying to look for something to complain about.

You could say “well now that we’ve seen your face we just realize that we’re missing out on seeing your face in that TikTok or post or whatever and it’s annoying” that’s totally valid, but have you ever thought that maybe you wouldn’t see that post at all if it wasn’t for the mask? I’m fairly confident, but I’m still very conscious of my looks and being judged by hundreds of millions of people makes me double take about putting just anything out on to the internet. “Oh I have a bad hair day, usually wouldn’t record, oh fuck it throw on the mask”

I’m not obligated to make content with my face in it, and I ALWAYS SAID I WASNT GOING TO, but I’ve actually grown a healthier relationship with how I look and the internet, so I do plan on showing myself more than I originally said. That being said, I love the mask, it’s great for me, and it’s always been my brand so get off your high horse about “dreams an idiot everyone hates it!”, when that’s just YOU being parasocial and not even recognizing it. I am enjoying what I’m doing and amplifying things that make me enjoy it, and I like the mask. I don’t owe anyone content of my face, but there will be plenty. I plan on making public appearances showing my face, making TikTok’s showing my face (as I have), posting pictures showing my face (as I have), and lots more. But only when and where I want to, and not because you think it’s stupid to wear the mask, but because I want to.

It’s fine to not like the fact that I wear the mask and express that you’d rather see that TikTok or post as my face, but just try and remember that I was faceless, and hardly planned on posting my face after the face reveal. There was years were I never showed myself, months where I was caught up in everything and showed myself so much, months where I JUST wore the mask, and now we’re slowly moving to a middle ground. Coming to terms with what I enjoy the most and is the best for me overall. Jesus reading this thread was exhausting so many just patently false things out of anger. I get it I haven’t communicated here much with this side, here’s a comment rip me apart"

[starleska]

I'm not gonna lie, you're really convincing me to start writing/drawing/animating Y/N x Wally Darling stuff...

You have great concepts and the simp in me is being fed and I love it AHEGAJAGAJA I just worry that there's a chance that Clown had advised against it and I've yet to see that in a post somewhere in the past. But seeing as you're enjoying writing all the Reader x Wally Darling stuff with no worries (good on you btw!), it's all okay right?

/nm /gen

hey there Laurs!! aww, thank you very much 🥰💖 i love getting messages from people inspired by my fanworks, it makes my heart all fuzzy!! just a little endless cycle of good vibes and creativity :3c now, the bulk of your ask is a tough one to answer!! i know i've posted a lot of fanworks for Welcome Home, but at the end of the day, i'm just a fan like anyone else, trying to do my best to respect Clown's wishes. honestly, given the chance i would love to talk to them and ask these specific questions that a lot of fans have been firing in my direction. i have reached out, but understand those messages have likely been drowned under thousands of others!!

so @partycoffin, on the off-chance you're reading this: i hope you're doing well, and taking care of yourself in this terrifying, exciting time!! thank you for sharing your lovely world with us - we're all just so in love with your characters and universe 🥰💖 if you'd like to talk, please feel free to reach out. it would be great to know that you're okay, and i'd be happy to field any questions you have about your bustling new fandom (who have been destroying my own notifications for the past two weeks!!). it may be presumptuous of me, but perhaps having an inside look on what questions fans have might help make this explosive growth seem a little less scary. however, there's no obligation to reply - we're thankful all the same :3c

as far as i am aware at the time of writing this post, i don't think Clown has any problems with Wally x Anon/Reader/Y/N fanworks...or at least, i haven't come across any sources stating so.

the big thing that (if i'm understanding the guidelines correctly) is that Clown doesn't want us to be putting any NSFW Welcome Home material into the main tags. we have to remember that Welcome Home has blown up very quickly, and Clown deserves a chance to breathe and adjust to all this success before laying out those boundaries (if he wishes!). that's why, although i do write NSFW for other fandoms i'm refraining from doing so for Welcome Home until stated otherwise. i can't imagine how stressful it must be dealing with so many notifications, people impersonating, trying to sell their work, exhibiting invasive and creepy behaviour...on top of the overwhelming demand for new Welcome Home stuff. i think as fans we should just vibe and play in our own little bubbles without stressing them out too much, and adjust when we receive new information. for instance, i didn't know when i made my Wally Darling edit that they were uncomfortable with non-canon art being associated with the main game. i've since reached out to see if i should take the video down with no reply, and went with the consensus of a group of fans i asked for the opinions of - to leave it up until asked otherwise. pretty much - i don't think Wally Darling x Anon fanworks contravene the guidelines that Clown has given us so far. they aren't inherently NSFW, and i'd hope that anyone who is making NSFW fanworks is tagging appropriately, as is the courteous thing to do. i'm of the opinion that fans are going to do fandom things, and there's always going to be folks making adult-oriented works, and that's okay!! but i'm also always happy to respect the wishes of the creator in terms of how they'd like that work to be tagged and presented. i think Toby Fox did it best when he first suggested the 'Undertail' tag for NSFW works - a real stroke of genius that i see lots of fandoms still using today. again, do take this with a grain of salt! i don't know Clown, and very few of us do - we're just all interpreting his words in vastly different ways, and that must be terrifying to deal with; thousands of people getting very angry or very sad because they think they can or cannot do a specific thing they never actually said. it's not anyone's fault that Welcome Home blew up so suddenly and there wasn't time for precautions to be taken, but it is the fault of those fans who are overstepping boundaries and need to re-examine their relationship to this art. it sounds like you're good to go on making those animations, and i would personally love to see them 🥰 thanks again for being so sweet about my silly headcanons!! it's honestly been quite scary adjusting to the amount of attention, but please know i'm grateful and appreciative of every ask, reply and message that comes my way 💖

[knifedancer]

Uninvited (songfic, part 2)

Sequel/Follow-up to 'Iris'. Marinette knows that Argos has been following her and his presence is unwelcome. One night, while she is walking home, Mari is attacked by two strange men and, much to her surprise, Argos steps in to save her. When he suffers from a near fatal wound, what will the secret heroine do?

Based on the lyrics for 'Uninvited' by Alanis Morissette (1998) from the movie soundtrack for 'City of Angels'. Posted on AO3.

Part 1

~~~~~~~

Like anyone would be

I am flattered by your fascination with me

Like any hot-blooded woman

I have simply wanted an object to crave

But you, you're not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

Oh, Marinette knew she was being followed – she knew exactly who it was as well. Ever since the Diamond Dance and his oddly protective behavior towards her, Felix – as Argos – became the petite bluenette’s shadow. At first, she was disturbed and concerned he had discovered her heroic identity but, as days grew into weeks and weeks turned into months, it became obvious that he had no idea. Especially when he would attack her during akuma attacks and then stand sentry – his glowing magenta eyes standing out against the shadows – only a few rooftops away from her balcony. She could sense his curiosity was changing – at first suspicious and now something distinctly different. Whatever it was, Tikki agreed that his attentions did not seem threatening. Marinette only hoped he would find something else – someone else – fascinating soon as she had no time to spare. Her duties as Ladybug and the miraculous guardian were too important to have distractions…

Must be strangely exciting

To watch the stoic squirm

Must be somewhat heartening

To watch shepherd meet shepherd

But you, you're not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

Afterall, Felix had been the one to impersonate Adrien, the sole cause that akumatized her three friends, attempted to sexually assault her, betrayed her to Hawkmoth, only to take on the role of villain… The young designer could not readily forgive and forget. While Marinette remained the same person she had been, she had learned her lesson when Lila isolated her. She was thankful as it stripped away her naivety; she was now far more cautious with her heart, her time, her energy.

That’s why she decided to give up on loving Adrien. So many attempted kisses, missed opportunities, and failed confessions… It was as if the universe was giving her a message that she finally understood. He would always remain someone special to her but the disaster that was her love life was a distraction toward her miraculous mission: defeat Monarch and retrieve the jewels. The secret heroine focused on building their friendship instead. She knew Argos witnessed it all – it made her uncomfortable knowing he was likely laughing at her fickle feelings. How could he understand what laid in her heart?! What struggles she dealt with while she struggled to keep her head held high? To keep herself from drowning beneath her increasingly difficult responsibilities and obligations?

Perhaps he would leave her alone now.

Like any uncharted territory

I must seem greatly intriguing

You speak of my love like

You have experienced love like mine before

But this is not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

But even after watching her move beyond her crush, Argos remained her steadfast companion of a sort – never appearing directly to Marinette. He was simply there. Just on the edge of her sight but always silent, always out of reach, but always watching…

That’s why, when she was attacked late at night, she was shocked to see Argos intervene. Just having him present hampered her immensely! It risked her identity getting back to Monarch so she was unable to transform nor react as she normally would for fear for raising suspicions. Grabbed, roughed up, and mentally rattled, she was unsure what she was seeing was real. This purple and blue colored villain had finally shed the comfort of his shadows and appointed himself her champion. He stood in a defensive position in front of her, fan at ready and in a fighting stance. ‘Why?’ her mind questioned on repeat as she watched him fight, eyes blurry from being slapped. When he turned and offered his hand, she hesitated as she stared into his magenta eyes to seek the answers she most desired. ‘Why? Why now?’

That’s when she saw the flash of a knife behind him, glinting in the moonlight, as the taller man lunged. Her entire consciousness flooded with blinding fear and she screamed, “Look out!”

Argos turned but it was too late, the knife plunged into his side and Marinette felt her stomach suddenly drop. She choked on her breath, feeling the dread wring her vocal chords as she saw the blood seep into the material of his miraculous suit. ‘So much blood…’ Her panicked heartbeat roared in her ears as she stared wide-eyed, unable to hear anything else. Then he smirked, wrenching the knife from his body and transformed it into a minotaur sentimonster that chased her attackers off. The secret heroine should have been more concerned about the potential senti-threat but…

Her heart stopped and the silence deafened her as Argos focused his pain filled gaze upon her again. Marinette wasn’t sure what she said as her mind raced, her own eyes drawn to the seemingly never-ending blood that leaked from the large laceration in his side. When he collapsed beside her, his breathing becoming more ragged as his timer wound down, her Ladybug senses kicked into overdrive – assessing his injuries and attempting to staunch the bleed. That’s when his transformation fell away and bluebells met hazel green… she finally saw the broken and hurt boy, the fear and love that lay beneath his cold exterior.

“…I’m s-sorry, Angel…,” Felix’s fading voice seemed like it had been dragged through wet gravel and it set off alarms in her head. She did everything she could but, as he collapsed into her arms, everything screamed at her to save him!

“Tikki, spots on!” Marinette tucked the peacock miraculous into her yo-yo to keep it safe, hoisted Felix’s limp body into her arms, and zipped away towards the nearest hospital. Adrenaline swept away the pain that arose with each breath, each movement, as her body protested against using injured limbs. She didn’t care, couldn’t even think about that now. Her mind’s sole focus was on the blond teen in her arms and her new mission. He was—he was always there… He just couldn’t die!

The landing in the alley nearest the emergency room nearly knocked the wind from her lungs as the sprained ankle lanced pain up her leg and spine. She detransformed and gasped; stumbling as a wave of excruciating sensations caused tears to spring to her eyes within seconds. ‘I don’t have time to hurt,’ she scolded herself mentally. Pushing down the panic and anguish with gritted teeth, her eyes two burning coals of determination, she summoned her residual Ladybug strength to carry him in through the entry on unsteady feet.

After the flurry of doctors, half-truths, police reports, and bandages, she was finally deemed non-critical and was discharged. Marinette sat vigil outside the door to surgery, ice pack gingerly held over one eye as her mind recalling every minute in meticulous detail to keep the doom spiral from forming in her mind. The blood, the knife, the faces of the men… After a few hours, doctors wheeled him out and into a room for recovery. Although he would still take a while to recuperate, she was convinced that Tikki had loaned him a little luck as the knife had miraculously missed anything vital. ‘He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive,’ she thought on repeat.

“Marinette, you should pin Duusu’s broach to his chest, it should help him recover faster,” Tikki’s soft whisper broke her from her mental chanting. “We can always retrieve it before he is discharged if he cannot be trusted.”

“Good idea, Tikki. Thank you,” she hobbled into the attached bathroom to transform and retrieve the brooch. She re-entered the room as herself only a moment later, pinning and watching the peacock shaped pin transform into a less recognizable piece of jewelry upon his hospital gown. Duusu appeared with a flash and his gaze met Marinette’s.

“Guardian, I did not think you would return me to my holder,” the bird kwami bowed gratefully. “He’s not truly a villain, simply misunderstood and carries deep emotional wounds. Felix has desired to protect you. I don’t think he fully understands why. He will be so confused but happy when he realizes you are Ladybug!”

“Let’s keep my identity – as Ladybug and the guardian – a secret for the time being, shall we?” She pressed a finger to her lips and winked, Duusu giggled softly in response before settling in the crook of Felix’s neck with a coo.

An odd silence descended upon the room – filled with beeping, whirring, and distant chatter. Marinette’s eyes were drawn to Felix’s pale countenance. “He looks so fragile,” she murmured to herself. Minding the wires and tubes attached to him, the girl brushed the hair back from his face. Dark circles resided under his shut eyes, evidence of his late nights and long days. The bluenette settled into the chair at his bedside with a sigh, her eye blackened and shirt now dried with his blood. She glanced up at the clock on the wall, one in the morning.

I don't think you unworthy

I need a moment to deliberate

Marinette looked over his still form once again as the exhaustion settled into her bones, “I guess it’s my turn to watch you now, hmm?”

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 13

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we’re defined by our job, it’s those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it-” You painted a dire face before devolving into bubbles of laughter.

Donnie waited you out with a tempered boredom.

“Mission Impossible.” You waved at him and leaned into the bar you were holding on to.

He gave an approving nod and his expression shifted for you to continue.

“So the deal is, I get tips from a friend of a friend about the best times to hit up my favorite grocer. Thing is, the place is super out of the way and lugging the groceries back is a pain, but it makes more sense to stockpile…”

Donnie swayed languidly as the subway car came to a stop. There was a light exchange of people around you, but otherwise the car was unchanged.

“So I need muscle and my preferred one is out of town at his brother’s destination wedding in Nashville.” You slumped and gave a heady sigh.

“Good to know I was your second choice.” Donnie regarded you with a brisk turn of his head.

Under your feigned dismay, you snuck in a smile. “More like third or fourth.”

He snapped back to shoot you a glare and you had to turn away to keep up appearances .

A giggle crinkled your lip. “You did come to my aid with no explanation.”

“I’ll know going forward to ask for more details when you call on me.”

Affection seized you and you dug your nails into the bar to keep yourself in check. Donnie had kindly made it clear it was a low touch day right when you met and you had no problem obliging. It was just the little pulls like this one that you struggled with. Pivoting away from the feeling, you gestured to the plethora of tote bags he was holding. “Think you can handle it?”

He slid his gaze to you in an impersonal evaluation. He came out of it with a chuff. “Going home now would require more effort.”

You dropped the act in a show of honesty. “I really appreciate it though. Thank you.”

He seemed put out by the display and held up a fistful of handles. “There’s something in one of these.”

“What?” You craned your neck to see, but found the stack appeared flat.

He flipped through the straps as if combing files in a cabinet. “This one.” With deft fingers, he split it from the pack and offered it to you.

You took it and opened it. “Ah, what…?”

Donnie hovered nearby.

“I think my buddy left his headphones in here.” You puffed out your cheeks in irritation before reaching to pull out the offending object. They were a chunky over the ear pair that you held with one distasteful finger. “They’re taking up prime real estate.”

Donnie took the tote back and you kept the headphones.

“What can you do?” You slid them around your neck like a fashion accessory and tucked the cord away into the lining of the light coat you wore to fend off the last vestiges of spring. “How’s business?”

He gave you a look that said he knew what you were doing. “I just completed a lucrative deal.”

“Oh?” You rolled on the balls of your feet coyly. “Wanna celebrate when we get back to my apartment?”

There was a stiffness as he gave you his patented look.

Not having seen it in awhile you basked in it for a moment before realizing what he was insinuating. “Oh. Oh!” You threw your hands up in defense. “Not like that! I meant I could cook something!”

He eyed you suspiciously.

The opposing shake of your appendages spread to your head. “Seriously! The tone here was me trying to find out of it was something you’d celebrate or not!”

He evaluated that. “Hm, I suppose I can appreciate various levels of conspiration.”

“You know, you’re always teasing me about wanting to jump you, but it does seem odd that you’re the only one that brings it up!” You kept your expression open for him to openly search.

He did so and whatever he took away was cagey. It ended with him looking down the length of the car and dropping the subject. “Cooking came up briefly once. Color me intrigued.”

“Good!” You lowered your arms and allowed him the out. The exchange allowed that cropping of excitement to grow and with it blossomed imaginary scenarios of him applauding your dishes. The mental Donnie was a little too sweet and caused the scenario to have an uncanny quality. “Oh… I sort of decided that on my own, huh? At the end of the day you should decide what we do since I’ll owe you.”

“For what?”

“Helping.” You gestured to the bags.

Another stop occurred and Donnie’s gaze rapidly scanned the new passengers as if he were cataloging them.

He left you without a response, so you braced yourself as the subway started back up.

You stood in comfortable silence together as several more stops passed. You observed the onlookers who either gawked at Donnie or ignored his existence completely. It left you wondering if this was typical or if he usually faced a higher level of disdain. Caught up in how exactly you’d take an irate commuter down that you were also trapped in a car with, you almost didn’t hear Donnie when he spoke again.

“That’s alright?”

“Hm?” You punched a xenophobe in your mind.

Instead of responding, you watched his boots do the slightest shuffle. You then traced back up to his face and took in his defensive posture. Someone behind him stood from their seat as the next stop neared. Donnie tensed further and you could tell how hyperaware he was of the other person as they passed him to stand near the door.

“Ah.” You gave a knowing tip of your head. “Of course it’s alright. Being with you is more than enough.”

 He seemed unconvinced, but otherwise dropped the matter. You picked up the conversational slack by adding tidbits about how the system upgrades your CEO was trying to implement weren’t being used. He always seemed curious about the mundane workings of an office. You wondered if he was just indulging you or not. The closer you got to him, the more you noticed the little things he’d try to do. He often undercut himself, but he always made an effort. Losing track of the conversation, you’d somehow switched over to discussing fisheries around the time your stop was coming up. Squaring your shoulders, you put on your best game face.

“Alright, you man the basket and I’ll throw stuff in.”

Amused by your stern attitude, Donnie agreed with his body language.  

Several people around you stood and you comingled with them as the rail slowed. The doors opened and you fell into the throng exiting. Donnie stayed close behind and you focused on navigating the busy Saturday streets. Out of the station and a few blocks maneuvered, you saw the gleaming brick features of your grocer. You excitedly did a spin amongst the crowd and caught Donnie tracking you. You only slowed to cross the road before hitting the building proper. There were very few baskets left, but you swiped one and deposited it into Donnie’s already stuffed hands. He took it easily and you both moved through the vestibules.

He stayed close as you wound to the right through produce. Trying to focus, you bumped shoulders as you juggled to check expiration dates. The store was near capacity which meant you had probably started later than you should have. Tossing a dip into the basket, you eyed your companion. He’d been nervous on the train and you wondered how his behemoth form was faring in a packed grocery store. He seemed on edge, but otherwise more focused on staying within your perimeter. You gave him an encouraging smile which he returned with a nod. You took it as a go ahead and continued to toss things to him.

As expected, he did an incredible job at inventory management and with each item you passed him he seems to perfectly revaluate the structure of the load. Whenever you had time to look back, he had it rearranged to accommodate whatever you picked up. You mentally applauded what a good sport he was being especially considering you could barely talk to each other. The base level of noise in the store created a loud thrum that only shouts could overtake. Turning a corner towards the lauded freezer section, you prepared for the worst of it. This aisle took up the main bulk of the store and the majority of its shoppers with it. You spared Donnie a rousing pump of your fists before diving into the action.

It quickly became harrowing. The selection had dwindled and patrons were near shoving to get the last bags of product. You had hoped to comb the aisles with a bit more panache, but ended up ducking in wherever possible and plucking what you could. You tried to keep a tally of what would get you by the longest, but the distraction of simply acquiring items got in the way. You had little time to check in with Donnie who had centered himself in thoroughfare to keep from clogging up the cold racks. Your hands were quickly growing numb from juggling the icy packages when you felt a shift towards the end of the aisle.

“Attention, lovely shoppers! We just set out a pallet of free items up front! Our error is your gain! One each per customer and first come, first serve!”

Everyone was in motion and you tossed an apologetic look back at Donnie as you saw the thin thread of an opening spread in front of you. It took a little zigzagging and a few near falls, but you made it to the array while there was still some variety left. Grabbing two of each item as your companion was also technically a customer, you were about to depart when a yell rose above the crowd. Two women started fighting verbally over one supposedly breaking the item restriction rules and you struggled to get away. A crowd quickly formed around the schoolyard brawl and several employees intervened. The sound was near deafening and you held your prizes up to your ears. The commotion caused a thinning so you easily headed straight back to where your companion had once been.

Blinking, you lowered your bounty as you found no Donatello in sight. Turning around as he loomed not only over the other customers, but could clearly be spotted over the shelves, you still couldn’t spot him. In several rotations, you felt your anxiety build as there wasn’t a shred of purple or green. Wandering forward and helplessly backtracking, you found the impeccably kept basket against a new item display. An older woman was eyeing it hungrily, but it had yet to pick it apart. You claimed it while passing her a sneer. She huffed loudly as she left and you scanned the items for any clue as to where your partner might have gone.

Finding none and, with your heart speeding up with every step, you established a perimeter around the store. He had simply vanished and, as you neared the registers, your distress must have been palpable because you heard someone call out.

“Looking for something?”

“Oh.” Still scanning the store, you tried to remember courtesy and give the man your attention. “Um, I… Well I sort of lost my-” Your tongue jerked as you couldn’t label it.

Boyfriend?

You wished.

Fuck buddy?

In a way.

Object of your affections?

Probably the most accurate.

Souring on the options and overwhelmed by the disappearance, your brain short circuited.

“Someone? Oh my, did you lose a child!? We can make an announcement! L-Let’s, oh… Can I get a description? We should move fast!”

You startled and waved your hands which the basket ended up interfering with. “N-no, no! That’s alright, he’s a fully grown adult who… would not like that kind of attention.”

The man seemed to take the statement in with a careful nod.

“Maybe you’ve seen him? He’s hard to miss. A big-” You brought a free hand up to mime Donnie’s shape. “Green mutant guy?”

The worker seemed to still be stuck on the announcement, but, with a few turns of his mental cogs, something came to him. “Oh! The tall drink of water!”

“You’ve seen him?” You rushed the employee a little too quickly which startled both of you. “Sorry, do you know where he went?”

“Oh… no.” The man seemed sheepish. “He was hard to miss walking around, but after the free item fiasco, we sort of had our hands full!”

“Yeah…” Your heart sank and a hollow feeling emerged where hope had bottomed you out.

“He was pretty uncomfortable though.”

“Huh?” You had unconsciously flipped to doing another sweep of the store with your gaze.

“Your mutant friend. I mean sure, this place is a madhouse, but he looked a little more upset than that.”

Your head snapped to the man instantly.

The employee had a finger to his chin in recollection. “Yeah, I’m sure of it. Don’t mutants have enhanced abilities or something? I’ve been wanting to stuff cotton in my ears since my shift started. If it’s worse for him? Goodness!”

You paled.

This guy who didn’t even know Donnie had seen the signs.

Why hadn’t you?

You ran through each clipping and the memories warped with sickly worry. What had once been Donatello’s basket appraisal no longer had a scientific quality and instead now looked like a nervous fit in trying to divert focus. Each confirming nod from him twisted as brusque brush-offs. Even his silence which you had assumed was due to errant volume now seemed to be caused by a stress induced failure to communicate.

You felt sick.

You knew exactly how this trip was going to go. You’d done it for years now. It was always hectic.

He’d been upfront about his reservations and you had walked the man straight into a sensory nightmare.

You slammed a palm to your face.

“Hey…” The employee’s soothing voice came in and you felt a fingertip graze your shoulder. “It’s alright. Maybe he had to step out?”

You nodded slowly and imagined at this rate he might already be back on the subway.

A counter thought wondered if he’d chance that with how uncomfortable he’d been on board the first time.

“How about you stay here and I ask around?”

You lowered your hand to look at the employee’s reassuring smile. “No, that’s-”

“We can’t have you getting lost too!” The worker gave your shoulder a little squeeze before darting over to the packed registers. You watched as he snuck up on his coworkers methodically and whispered in their ears. You saw shakes of heads and a few hasty points. Finishing his sweep, you could see the answer in his demeanor alone.

You opened your mouth to apologize for the trouble, but the man spoke first.

“He was last seen in the freezer section, but it sounds like he disappeared when the fight broke out.”

“O-oh…”

The man’s lip came down in sad commiseration before he seemed to chew something over with them.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Leave your basket with me.”

“What…?”

“I’ll watch your stuff. Go look for him.”

Your hands were already moving to fret. “No! That’s too much. I mean with how busy it is-”

“You’ll come back, right? You just had a little emergency. What’s my boss going to say to that?” The man shifted to a mischievous air and reached out for your basket.

Stuck in a form of shock, you let him take it.

“I can see you beating yourself up. It’s alright! I’m sure it was a misunderstanding. Just promise you won’t torture the guy again and we’re all good!” He walked around a small counter and your goods disappeared behind it.

“You-” Your eyes felt watery and you swallowed the feeling down. “Thank you!”

“Uh huh, thank me more after you find him. Go on! Shoo!” He did a little flap with his hand and you bobbed before taking off.

The trek to the door gave you enough time to weigh your options. He clearly wasn’t in the store so where could he have gone? You’d been the area a few times, but your trips as of late were really only to this one location. Donnie, alternatively, hadn’t given much away in how familiar he was with this neighborhood. Exiting the automatic doors, you paused on the sidewalk to look both ways. He wasn’t milling about on the street, but there were also a ton of people. As far as the eye could see, there was pedestrians clogging shops and walkways.

Bringing a fist up to your lips to prevent a frustrated scream, you tried to put yourself in his shoes. Everything would be much louder and every turn meant the chance at a touching someone. Spinning around, you scanned the buildings. If the prime objective was to get away from it all then your first thought was a restroom. There wasn’t one at the grocer that you knew of and the shops had a threshold requirement of people to pass to get to theirs. Abandoning the thought, you needed a means to search so your hand went to your phone. As the device appeared a expletive passed your lips for having forgotten about it. You sent off a text asking where he was before staring at the messaging window. When his immediate read receipt didn’t appear, you couldn’t stand the thought of an agonizing wait. You filtered on to the next most quiet places in a New York street. There’d be the alleys, but they were also notorious for other things which is why they were usually clear.

You blinked.

At least, humans avoided them for that reason.

In another rotation, you spied a darkened inlet just to the left of the store. You made a beeline for it and found it chilled from lack of sun. It was dotted with dumpsters, trash bags, and little puddles that didn’t have the warmth to evaporate. Wary, you took a few steps in. “Donnie?”

In stark contrast with the street just a few feet away, a silence chased your question. All that was left was the faint reverberation of your voice. Looking back at the passersby, you stepped in further. With your entire being you willed him to be here. Outside of this, you had no idea where else to look. Crossing the first dumpster, you found nothing on the other side and cursed to yourself. There was only one more that could feasibly hide his form behind. Heading towards it, you felt the intensity of your worry knot in your throat.

Faded paint on corroded metal chipped away and your foot made a small splash as you nicked the outside of a puddle. The dirty water splattered under your jeans and you saw the edge of the dumpster grow near. Your mind screamed as the corner revealed itself as you saw the fringe of a black coat. “Donnie!”

There was no sound, but an unmistakable form retreated. You chased it and stopped short when you caught sight of him. His features appeared incensed. He was dropped down low like a feral animal and had a stance that seemed ready to pounce. His teeth were bared in a line that either spoke that he was about to bite or the strain had permanently etched a grimace into his face. You moved a little from the force you’d come at him with it he reared. Your hands shot up to block yourself. You couldn’t reign in the speed of the reflex and a sharp clicking noise started up.

“Donnie…” Bringing your voice down low, you backed up with structured steps.

Constricted pupils ran wild paths over your body.

“It’s me.” You crouched until you almost sat down. “It’s me…”

Instead of clarity, you saw more of an awareness regarding your nonthreatening gestures.   

“I’m sorry.” Your voice broke and you let the distress filter onto your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice.”

His hand moved and you winced.

Nothing came from the action and you watched as he raised his head a little.

“I’m sorry.” The phrase leaked out again and again.

It slowly built up into a gentle chant and you shrank into yourself. It was a harsh whisper in your ears as you stared down at the cracks in the concrete. You trailed off and slowly the agitation abated. Shifting to berate yourself for wasting time wallowing, you switched gears on what to do. He’d broken down past his usual mental fortitude and you needed some way to reach him. You had little experience with wild animals and tried to sort through fact or fiction in what you did know. Quiet and gears turning, you had landed somewhere around how to get a stray cat to approach you when you heard a shift of fabric. You forced yourself to bring your head up slowly.

His hands moved through several gestures before landing on one that had a thumb and finger pinched upright. He tapped the digits together several times and you tilted your head curiously.

You weren’t exactly sure, but it almost seemed like sign language.

You opened your mouth to ask and his stance shifted.

One of his hands flipped over with an upward facing palm and the other sliced down onto it.

You weren’t sure what that one meant either, but his demeanor alone was enough for you to know he didn’t want you to speak. Shrinking down at the thought, you felt the pad of the headphones graze your cheek. Your hands came up and you had to stop them from going too fast. Methodically, you removed the pair and held them up in show.

Donnie looked at them carefully.

Unsure if that was a confirmation, you shuffled a little bit closer in your squat position. His hackles didn’t raise further and you imagined that’s the best you were going to get. Rising as you closed in, he tracked your movement. Within range, you gingerly held out the headphones in show before pulling them wide as one would to put them on. He made no movement until the headset reached him. He then ducked his head momentarily and you set the object in place before retreating immediately.

A hand came flat to his mouth and then lowered out.

That one seemed more familiar and you cursed yourself for not being able to recognize it. Frowning, you pulled the cord free from your jacket and dug for your phone. You showed them both to him and he shook his head. Nodding, you passed him the cord and you noticed he took it only by grabbing it from a point that was as far from you as possible. The action stung, but you found it deserved. Giving a sad smile, you then took several steps back before raising up to your full height. He watched you with growing lucidity as you shrugged your jacket off. The alley’s cool air tickled your arms as you held the fabric out in front of you. He seemed curious as you made slow steps toward him once more. In a matador-esque sweep, you draped  the fabric around his head.

Giving him space once again, you watched and hoped he would get that it was meant to act as a sort of blinder. He let the thing sit around his neck for a long moment before he finally reached up and grasped it. He seemed to give it a sniff before leaning back. He then passed you a single look that you couldn’t decipher before his eyes drifted shut. He tugged the jacket over his face and you took it as a cue to keep watch.

Folding your arms to keep warm, you checked up and down the alley routinely. Across from you, Donnie eventually sank down until he was sitting. You mentally bemoaned his nice slacks and coat getting dirty, but you were also sure he’d just drop them off at his cleaners. A calm settled in and eventually you found purchase on the wall opposite him. You reclined into it with one leg bent to let a foot press flat against it.

Time ticked by until you heard a lengthy sigh. You watched as Donnie reached up and fisted your jacket. He dragged the thing off his face and into his lap. His expression was openly exhausted and you could even see bags under his eyes through his mask. Releasing the coat, he brought the fist up to his chest and scrubbed it against his plastron in a circle.

“Sorry.” His voice sounded far too small.

“No…” You tried to match his volume. “It was my fault.”

He opened his mouth and, not wanting to cut him off, you raised your hand. He watched it and seemed to give you the floor out of sheer exhaustion.

“I should have noticed. You didn’t hide it at all. I was just… self absorbed because all I could think about was my own dumb shit.”

Staring at you, he eventually let one of his arms fall to his leg. “Where are your groceries?”

You puffed out an empty breath. “You think I bought them after that? No way.” From where you were holding yourself, you gave your arms a squeeze. “As soon as I realized you were gone, I went looking for you. Some employee took my stuff.”

He was quiet and you watched as he let the arm roll off his leg onto the ground. His muscles tensed and you saw he was going to try to get up.  

“No!”

He winced at the word first, then you.

“I’m sorry.” You brought your voice back down. “Fuck the groceries. Let’s figure out how to get you home.”

He ignored you and tried to stand again.

You crossed the distance to a mid point and stopped.

He eyed you as he managed to get to his feet. Once there, he looked out at the pedestrians crossing and seemed to pale.

“I know you said no earlier, but…” You pulled out your phone.

His attention shifted to the device and then your face.

“Is there some kind of music you play that helps?”

He went to shake his head, but slowed as he seemed to think better of it. “I don’t have a playlist for that sort of thing. I deal with it in other ways.”

You nodded and lowered your gaze to stare at your reflection in the screen. “There’s some video game music that a friend of mine plays for her students when they study. It’s quiet and soft and… I don’t know…”

His boots came into your vision as he stepped forward. “Start it off at a very low volume.” A jade hand came up with the cord.

You pinched it free from him without making any contact. You then activated your phone and held it flat so he could watch what you did. You turned the volume down before plugging the headphones in. You then navigated to a shared playlist and did a quick scroll to start with a specific song. You hit play and brought a tentative gaze up to watch him. You were familiar enough to know a horn would start to sound and you watched as that hit Donnie. He reached up almost unconsciously and touched a hand to one of the ear cups.

He let the song play for a moment before he pointed a finger up. You raised the volume until he made that chopping motion again. You stopped and the display timed out on your phone as he seemed to lull.

You watched him with tepid fondness as the next song played and he pacified. He eventually pulled his own phone out and made several swipes on it before holding it out to you.

You stared at it blankly.

He gestured for you to take it with a single bob.

You frowned.

He plucked your phone up while you were distracted.  

“We’re swapping?” You wondered as he placed his device in your now open hand.

“Go get the groceries.”

Your jaw dropped with irritation. “No. I already said I don’t care about that.”

“Fine.” He held up the totes next. “I do. Go get them.”

You had a protest ready and he managed a bare glare.

“You don’t look very imposing when you’re this tired.”

“I can move onto verbal threats that will go into effect at a later date.”

“Please.” It wasn’t pleading, but more that you willed him to give this up.

“Go.” He held firm and raised your phone. “I need more time. I’ll keep listening to your playlist.”

Trying to figure out how to fight this, you cradled his device. It was the closest you’d ever gotten to it. It didn’t look like any brand you’d ever seen before. “I’d rather not leave you and there’s no way I’m letting you back in there.”

Quiet fell which he dispelled with another sigh. You kept your eyes low in case he tried to argue further. You sensed him doing something and it wasn’t until the phone in your hand lit up that you realized what.

Y/N Calling

Flagged: Priority

Bypass Protocol DAR

Surprised by the label, you almost let the call time out. You then fumbled before reaching out a digit to accept the call. There wasn’t any icon to click, but, as your finger neared the screen, a purple hue glowed around your pad. When you made contact, it answered automatically. Stunned, you watched a little pop-up emerge that requested a video chat. You similarly tapped it and Donnie’s face appeared on the screen.

You stared at the digital him before looking up at actual him. He met your gaze and an understanding tinted your cheeks.

“Doesn’t the call stop the music?” You mumbled and held your other hand out.

“I muted the call.” He deposited the tote handles into your open palm.

“What if I need to talk to you?”

“Do so, I’ll understand.”

You shot him a confused look which he ignored pointedly. Sinking under the moot point, you brought the device up and saw a smaller screen preview your side of the call.

‘You’re a stubborn jerk,’ you mouthed.

“I believe you mean ‘wicked.’”

You shot an annoyed look at the real him which he brushed you off by giving you a psychical cold shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, you eventually turned to head back down the alley. You kept the screen close and framed your face in the preview. ‘I can’t believe you’re making me do this. I really couldn’t care less at this point.’

“You’ll care later when you’ve calmed down.”

‘Calmed-!?’ You swallowed the word to glower at the screen. You had to glance away long enough to take a corner and head towards the store. ‘I’m justifiably worried and will be from now on. That’s what you do when you’ve messed up.’

“We’ll see.”

The automatic doors welcomed you and you made it through both sets. The employee from earlier clocked you almost immediately and waved to you. You approached him and he smiled brightly before making a show of trying to look at your screen.

“Find your fella?”

You turned the phone around so the man could see.

“Hello, sir!” The employee gave a wave. “On behalf of the staff, we apologize for the trouble. There’s been discussion of sensory-friendly shopping hours and this will definitely give the managers the push they need.”

Donnie said something back that you couldn’t quite catch and the employee seemed to nod before gesturing to you. You pulled the phone back and Donnie watched in it with a lazy gaze.

“I actually put your basket in the back. Let me go get it!” The man gave a sort of bow before departing from behind his counter.

You had a gratitude on your lips but the employee was already gone. You scrubbed your face with your free hand. When you came out of it, you watched Donnie on the line tilt his head as he seemed to lean into the headphones. You wondered which song had clicked on when the worker returned. The handles of your basket were ice cold and you imagined he must have put it in some sort of cooler. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Consider leaving a store comment. The name’s Greg if you think I gave above and beyond service!” The employee gave a wink and then purposefully departed by pretending to ask another customer if they needed help.

You looked after the man fondly before glancing at the basket. You technically needed a few more items. Checking back in on your call found Donnie watching you again. He quirked a brow and you could tell he was questioning if you would continue.

‘I need a few more things.’

He gave a satisfied nod that seemed in time with some rhythm and you rushed to grab the self stable goods. With only a minor trip back to the freezer section for one last thing, you otherwise juggled your overflowing basket. You didn’t have a comparative skill to Donnie when it came to stacking and alone the basket was nearly too much for you to carry. You ended up waiting in line with it at your feet before hefting it onto the checkout counter. An exhausted employee with a painted on grin scanned your items and you passed them to totes to bag it. Paying and watching your hard earned dollars digitally disappear, you were presented with the daunting task of grabbing all the filled totes. You struggled to do so especially with the phone in hand and hobbled your way out the door. Your arms were screaming as you turned to find a familiar black vehicle parked at the mouth of the alley.

You glowered at it and released your totes to check your phone. Donnie was still in the alley, but from his smug face you could tell he knew what you’d seen. Renewed through anger, you hoisted the groceries and stomped over to the car. Donnie met you within the shade and moved to open the door. You watched some tension build up in his shoulders before he ushered you and the bags into the vehicle. He then dropped in himself and closed the door into the soft glow of the purple neon.

Settled, the vehicle shifted from idle to drive and you looked down at Donnie’s phone where the call had ended. “Did you want me to keep shopping so this thing would have enough time to get here?”

“That is correct.” He held out your phone in his palm. You picked it up and made the exchange.

“You could have just said that.”

“And deprive you of your self-flagellating protest?”

You shot a glare at him which he ignored with the faintest bob of his head. Looking down, you traced the headphone tether from your phone to him. You opened up your music app to find him still listening to the same playlist. To keep from pulling, you set your phone down on the totes between you. Sinking into your seat, the car made a turn. “Dropping me off and heading home?”

“Is your roommate around?”

“Nah, she’s helping a friend with some project.”

“Then I’ll collect my promised meal.”

“Wasn’t that a reward for helping me?” You lolled your head to look at him.

“Shall we reframe it as a penance?” He shot you a smarmy look.

You narrowed your gaze and caught a glimpse of your jacket in his lap. He had a tight grip on it. “I’m going to blow your mind. It’ll be the best average home cooked meal you’ve ever had.”

He gave a wry smile. “Accepted.”

“I didn’t need permission.”

“I am not one to be fooled.”

You groaned and had to resist raising your voice as the banter continued throughout the car ride.   

NEXT

[floofymeow]

FujiTowa AgeRe Oneshot

Based upon a one-off post from @towapet abt fujitowa age regression (its actually wild how far of a rabbit hole I went into thinking about agere bc of this).

In like a 2am haze I woke up randomly and couldn't go back to sleep so I wrote a cute little Fujieda x Towa short........... at least I'm pretty happy with it..!!! here's to the tumblr void to commemorate <3

1k words, age regression fujieda + towa, sfw, fluff!

Fujieda shoved down the intense wave of fuzziness breaching boundaries of his mind. The day was a long one—and his clients were particularly difficult. There was no one to tell him “good work”, only suspicious glares and doubtful scoffs.

This was fine. Fujieda didn’t mind. He chose this line of work, and at this point in his life, it was the ideal outcome—the necessary kind of occupation that he was obligated to fulfill. His movements felt sluggish as he turned the car off and stepped into his condo.

The Friday was over. It was a particularly rough week. Three out of five nights of late overtime had been sludged through. Words melted down his throat as he glanced over to a languid Towa, who spoke a simple greeting while setting out the plates for dinner.

Towa.

Watching him, another stronger wave of weightlessness rushed through him—and Fujieda frowned, though he didn’t force it to stop. The last time he did, he was left with a severe weekend migraine and a bad attitude, according to Towa.

Fujieda’s fuzzy mind began to regain clarity somewhat, but all that remained was an absent-minded desire to lounge on the couch and continue playing where he left off on the console. The exhaustion of the last month seemed to drift far away from him, as the thought of playing games grew stronger. It was a good thing he had all weekend.

A decided satisfaction spread through his chest as he nodded to himself and began to quickly eat—faster and sloppier, as if he had a million things to do other than eat.

Towa watched on curiously.

“Fujieda?”

Fujieda frowned, disliking the sound of his last name. It sounded impersonal. As if Towa were a stranger. He really didn’t like that.

“Fujieda sounds weird. Can’t you just call me Ryo?”

The low, yet curtly juvenile tone brought a softened light to Towa’s expression. His lips thinned into a smile, “Sure. Ryo, any plans this weekend?”

Ryo didn’t answer until he polished plate off. He shoved away from the table and dropped his dishes in the sink carelessly.

“Just games this weekend. I…that’s fine right? You’re not gonna be mad?”

“Nope. Sounds good to me.”

“Cool,” Ryo nodded with an awkward pause.

He diverted his eyes from Towa’s smile. It was too pretty—he didn’t know how to react whenever he saw it. It made his heart pound. He tensed as Towa stretched his slender arm up, fingers outstretched—

And rubbed Ryo’s head back and forth with a gentle touch. A wave of comfort washed over Ryo, loosening his shoulders. He always tried to hide his thoughts from Towa. He didn’t want Towa to know he thought that about him. It’d be weird.

Except that…

He glanced up, watching Towa wash dishes. Towa hadn’t done anything to… be weirded out or anything. Besides, they both regressed all the time. It wasn’t a big deal. Towa never cared either—in fact, Ryo always thought the smiles he got were better than when he was an adult.

“Towa…”

“What is it?”

“What do you…plan to do?”

“Paint. Maybe turn on a show to watch. Why?”

Ryo mussed through his own hair, hand fidgeting with his nape.

“Join me? In the same room. I’ll be sitting on the couch.”

“Sounds good. I’ll bring my things over.”

And just like Towa said, he brought his stand over and began to paint—Ryo wasn’t sure what it was. He forgot to ask, distracted the moment he begun playing games.

His mind buzzed with a simple contentment as he progressed the story quest, hacking down enemies and tapping through high-energy dialogue. Only when he couldn’t feel his legs would he stand up, stretch, and grab a glass of water.

That was when he finally realized Towa was still standing nearby in his painting apron, concentrating on his canvas. His eyes shone with an intense focus, one that Ryo didn’t want to interrupt. The outlines of children’s items began to form—toy trains, coloring crayons, and the little stuffed rabbit that now belonged to him.

Ryo watched for a few more seconds, then returned to his own game silently. He loved that he didn’t have to explain himself. That there was just the soft hum of battle music and decent voice acting, as well as the rustle of Towa’s apron and his brushed scraping the canvas. Nothing overwhelmingly abrasive. No one to tell him what to do. Just him and Towa coexisting in the same space.

He zoned out playing games, losing track of minute to hour. Just as he defeated a difficult area’s boss, two fingers hesitantly tugged on his sleeve, and a heavy weight slumped against him. Ryo looked over, and Towa's yawning softened features rubbed against his shoulder.

“Ryo,” he whispered with a childish drawl. He tugged on Ryo’s shoulder again, as if expectant.

Ryo wasn’t bothered at all. He paused the game and brought his arms around Towa. Towa giggled softly in his arms. Ryo indulged in the wispy, contented noises, before spoke up.

“Where’s your friend?”

Towa’s eyes widened. He wiggled out of Ryo’s grasp and tottered to the other room. Ryo moved his gaze back to the screen and hit resume. His fingers hit the console buttons in subconscious order, passing through a decently challenging parkour section.

The clumsy steps alerted Ryo that Towa had returned. And without a word, Ryo scooted over and raised his arms higher, eyes not leaving the screen. Towa carefully nestled himself within, this time, the worn out rabbit plush snugly in his lap. Ryo lowered his arm. Towa put his elbow atop Ryo’s, the movement of him rubbing the somewhat matted fur of the bunny relayed through Towa’s movements.

His head leaned back against Ryo’s chest—and after a few minutes of squirming, he finally settled into the perfect position. Their eyes watched the video game screen, bodies stuck together. Like pieces of a puzzle.

Pieces that, at one point, did not fit into their own story—but now slot perfectly into each other’s.

One younger, one slightly older.

Both perfectly content.

[ceruleanvulpine]

long(ish)fics I have planned extensively over the years but (almost certainly) will never finish:

cassvarric fake dating (dragon age): a misnomer tbh because dorian is the third main character. post-inquisition, three people with complicated feelings about family legacy go to nevarra. the remnants of the rebellion for which cass' parents were executed try to recruit her as a figurehead. meanwhile, varric tells an aunt that he and cass had an absurd meet-cute and are deeply in love, as a joke; she cannot contradict this without an obligation to avenge her honor. meanwhile, dorian gets drunk at a party, offends a mortalitasi who is part of said remnants by asking too many probing questions about necromancy, and DOES have to fight a duel for THAT guy's honor. varric gets kidnapped as leverage. cass has to Tell A Story (Lie)

college ghosts (heathers musical): veronica gets into a Fine college. close to home. she's sooooooo moved on and over it and sees the goodness in people. ... except heather duke is her roommate. a truce where neither of them want to reveal their past is broken by heather getting drunk and nervous at a party, at which point veronica starts seeing heather chandler's ghost again. AND jd. being intermittently possessed and going Maximum Alpha Bitch Mode / straight up punching that asshole in philosophy class is bad for her. AND bad for duke, who was kind of in love with chandler. I appear to have written veronica cathartically tackle-hugging the ghost of her own horrid mean drunk teen self but I do NOT remember the context, except that it's halloween and she put on her old blue jacket. duke figures out what happened with heather and jd. veronica has a chance to let her die in an unlucky frozen lake based incident, but doesn't, despite this

miranda pryce's journey of self rediscovery (w359): postcanon pryce and eiffel bond over how fucking weird it is to be surrounded by people who know your past when you don't. some of her bad personality remains, although a lot of it was Made Worse by like sixty years of hanging out with cutter! lovelace wants to destroy goddard, jacobi wants to redirect goddard, pryce would prefer not to be the symbol for this conflict thx. pryce and jacobi bond (?) over losing their platonic soulmates and being deeply offended by the suggestion that she could be maxwell 2.0. pryce goes on a trip, impersonates herself, finds some of her history, finds some of cutter's history VERY DIRECTLY in the form of a failsafe backup of his brain, and, we hope, has character developed enough to say no to his offer this time.

Jesus Christ I worked on the dragon age one and the w359 one in 2017 someone take me out

[sugaploom]

my brief little analysis on jean vicquemare that i sent to my partner

bc like. ok pov youre harry dubois partner and you get assigned to work with him at the start of ur career after hes (harry) already feeling really beat up about his girlfriend absolutely ditching him. u pick up all this dudes messes and ur probably there to support him through a lot of it bc afaik harry has no fucking friends. u do this for Several Several years and u watch this man turn into a drunken drug addicted shell of what he once was and yet u still try and help him. and u get put on this murder case and get told by harry to fuck off and die bc youre cramping his style and you fucking do bc fuck this guy and everything hes become

AND on top of that u watch your squad slowly dwindle into a pathetic group of 6 workers because harry himself DIRECTLY drove them to quit bc of how he behaved over the years. incredible workers and talent leaving the precinct because this drunkard cant get over his girlfriend he wasnt even married to

and you stick around because? youre too scared of change? you feel somewhat obligated to help this dude despite the misery he causes bc of his own depression? and hes not far off from you either being clinically depressed and hating the world and hating yourself and you already do so you may as well stick it through bc this was harrys last chance before they probably wanted to fire him for being such a fuckup for the precinct to the point hes given the precinct a horrible reputation so you may as well see this last case through bc either harry gets fired or makes a rapid recovery and turns his life around at the last minute

[talks abt how briefly hes in the game]

my heart hurts a lil about it too bc when he shows up in the sunglasses and wig hes like. trying to impersonate one of the ppl they work with. bc he genuinely thought both he and harry would get a laugh out of it but harry lost his memory so the joke was moot and jean just thought he was being a dickhead