#sorry this is late yall

[lucy-gray1075]

finnick x reader on valentine’s day !!

[gingerjolover]

maybe lazy day around the holidays cuddling with lucy? like they’re in bed (lucy and soft!gf) watching a christmas movie and soft!gf is trying to get lucy to appreciate the small things that come with the holidays ? if that makes any sense lol

of course babyyyy

we can make our own christmas - lucy dacus x soft!gf

Lucy's breathing is even, her head resting on your abdomen, body rising and releasing with your own. One arm is across your lower belly, the other under your back. You cringe at the thought that her arm might be actively falling asleep, but her eyelids flutter with sleep, staying closed. Your fingers carding through her hair, running down the slope of her nose, and rubbing her ear as you stare ahead at the screen, some random Christmas movie playing for the nth time this season already.

"Another Christmas movie?" Lucy mumbles, rubbing her face in your shirt, her lips catching the hem, gently grazing your skin.

"Oh, don't be such a grinch," you tease softly, smiling softly at her obvious distaste. Truthfully, Lucy was probably Christmas'd out. Over the last few days you'd gone to a Christmas tree farm/village, went to see Christmas lights, had a Christmas-themed brunch at Phoebe's, followed by a Santa Claus movie marathon, went gift shopping, and then decorated the entire apartment and tree.

And she's been a good sport... sort of...kind of... as much as Lucy could be about Christmas. You gave her a break today, though, the two of you lazily moving around the apartment, slowly invading each other's space, allowing one another to just exist in each other's presence.

"Sorry," Lucy mumbles, looking up at you, there's almost a submissive glint in her eyes.

"For what, honey?" you whisper back, thumbing the hair of her eyebrows down as they moved out of place while her face was resting in your stomach.

"Bein' a grinch," Lucy says, rubbing her face back into your abdomen, the feeling of her lips moving through the fabric of her your t-shirt tickles.

"I was just joking Lu," you say softly, hand rubbing the back of her head.

"No, but- you love Christmas, and I... I hate it, the only reason I did any of that stuff today was for you.. and for Phoebe, but mainly for you..." Lucy admits, her tone annoyed and defeated, but it's clearly an internal battle.

"Babe... I love you," you say, pulling her hair softly to lift her head to make eye contact. "And I appreciate you doing all this stuff for me... I know you have a lot attached to the Christmastime, but... I want to start creating our Christmas traditions... ones that make you feel good, and they don't even have to be super Christmassy..." you say softly. "I know I've been going hard with the Christmas stuff, but I want to figure out what you like... you didn't mind the scrapbooking and collage making, right?" you ask.

"No, I didn't mind it... it was fun," she whispers.

"And you liked sitting on the counter while I made Christmas cookies?"

"Yeah... your apron was cute," she says, lips pouting.

"And you got to pick really cool and unique and some ugly ornaments for the tree... that was fun, right?" you ask, fingers threading through her hair again, trying to convince her to like the small bits of Christmas without infantilizing her.

"Yeah... and I don't hate the music... or the gift giving, I guess... I just...it's a lot," she says, a heaviness in her voice, the weight of childhood Christmases, religious trauma, and the conflated depression all swirled in her words.

"It doesn't have to be anything you don't want it to be, Luce... we literally can do whatever we want for Christmas, I'm sorry if I've been pushing it," you say sincerely.

"No, you haven't; you've given me plenty of outs... I would do Christmas every weekend if it made you happy," she says sincerely, crawling up the bed, sticking her face in your neck.

"I love you," you say softly, her lips attaching to your neck gently.

"I love you more," she breathes. And she means it. Lucy is not a Christmas person, but there's something about how you breathe new life into every corner of her mind, showing her little things to love and appreciate, your smile worth every cheesy Christmas movie, familial argument, or pseudo-religious unwarranted messaging.

"I love you so much, I do... but can we please change the movie for the love of.." Lucy starts to say, tone exhausted as her nose rests on yours.

"How about the Grinch?" you tease softly, Lucy pulling away softly, eyes boring into yours, her face in faux offense.

"Do you hate me?" she asks.

"Luce!"

"No Grinch!"

[thefandomcassandra]

Malaprop (2/9): Now I'm In Your Head

mal·a·prop — /ˈmaləˌpräp/ (n) - the mistaken use of a word in place of a similar-sounding one, often with unintentionally amusing effect, as in, for example, “dance a flamingo ” (instead of flamenco ). — He shouldn't be here. (Sequel to Champion)

Content Warning: medical restraints, implied sexual abuse, discussion of suicide, self-harm, choking, extreme violence, animal death

The weird part about not being born psychic—by specifically gaining psychic powers via power transference and sheer dumb luck—is that it put the sheer difference between Reigen Arataka and the other psychics invited to do the Asagiri job in stark contrast. They were well-established in their field and he was...well he was flashy. That was about it.

(Dimple said he was likely an empathetic specialist, considering how easily he could read feelings from auras and how easily he could push his feelings onto others, but empathy alone wouldn't get him far in the business now would it?)

Regardless of the difference between himself and the others in power, Reigen had two advantages over them. The first was his prowess in rock-paper-scissors. The second was sheer charisma. All the regular psychics surrounding him, bigwig names from places like the Rising Sun Psychic Union, independent contractors and whatnot, were all work and no play. With names like Asagiri, there needed to be a hint of showmanship to the work. Otherwise it looked like horseshit and rich men didn't pay for horseshit.

Reigen was good at gilding horseshit so it looked valuable. That would carry him far, here specifically.

Asagiri Minori looked like a real brat. Whatever had changed in her—and he wasn't buying the others' muttered theories of puberty—it made her dangerous enough to strap down and Reigen wouldn't discount that caution on her father's behalf. Plus something about the way she looked out at everyone—as if she was studying them despite the glass she wasn't supposed to see through—made him on-edge. It made his hair stand up.

Something was wrong with Asagiri Minori.

As Reigen entered the room Minori was kept in, his hackles raised again. Still, he schooled his face into a calm placidity and nodded at her. "Hello there, Miss Asagiri."

Her cracked lips—dehydrated and bitten, ashen and split—parted as she moved to meet him, held back by the straps on her arms and legs. She jerked at the length of her restraints and met his eyes, tears starting to form in her own. "You need to help me," she begged, voice like dry leaves and burning paper, "Daddy said I could leave but he's lying. He always lies to everyone!"

"Do you know why your father put you in here? Why he tied you down?" Reigen was testing the water, feeling for any kind of errant aura hidden by her terrified words.

"It's because I won't do what he asks of me any more! He doesn't understand I'm a growing girl." Minori rattled her restraints and tried to get to the door. When that didn't work, she began crying, silently sobbing, jagged fingernails clawing at her face. "He keeps bringing adults in."

Reigen knew that, while he couldn't see or hear anyone outside, they could see and hear in. What Minori was saying was probably stirring up unease and distrust. Nobody out there knew to look past surface level.

"What are these adults brought here for?" Reigen sat down on the edge of the bed, out of reach of her hands. In the off chance she lashed out, he didn't want to be too close if she wanted his eyes. "The ones your father brings in to see you."

"They touch me. When I fight back they pin me down, strip me, and touch me all over. Father watches. He doesn't make a move to stop them. He wants his baby girl back so he'll do anything it takes." Minori's wild eyes flicked left, then back at Reigen, her greasy hair framing her face in matted chunks. "Please, mister psychic, you have to help me. I'm not possessed! He's lying! He's the one who's possessed. You have to believe me!"

Reigen swallowed bile and gave Minori a placating smile. His skin crawled as he nodded at her. "Of course," he lied, "I believe you. I'm here to help."

"That's what they all say!" She wails, drawing blood from her face. Reigen forces himself to not recoil, to play it safe, pretend at sympathy and let a little horror seep through, just in case.

Something was definitely wrong with Asagiri Minori and now he had an inkling of what it was.

Reigen had built his business model around one that already existed. Long before he knew psychics were real and that ghosts and curses could kill you, a younger, dumber Reigen decided he would imitate the first ever TV psychic to make it big—Mogami Keiji's—style and mannerisms. It would buy him credibility in the world and, really, who remembered a TV psychic from two decades ago? That meant hours and hours of watching old video tapes of his show, combing over every case and every intricacy.

While his aggressive hand motions were...exaggerated from the source material, most of the rest of how Spirits and Such operated was near identical to Mogami's own ways of working.

Minori's mannerisms reminded Reigen of this one episode he saw of a young possessed boy. The boy would flip between placid and pathetic to raging and manic in an instant, pretending to be a scared child one second and throwing things with enough force to break them the next. There was blood on his hands and claw marks on any exposed piece of skin. Self-inflicted bruises to sell it better.

It was a horridly powerful spirit, or so Mogami had said. Without any spiritual sensitivity, Reigen couldn't tell if the exorcism was real or not—and nowadays those tapes went for five or more zeros, assuming you didn't just find a bad rip of it online on a weird occult web circle—but the way the boy thrashed and screamed, body moving as if something was puppeting his limbs about always stuck with him.

So did the way the boy's speech patterns were inconsistent.

Reigen might not be a good esper, but he was an excellent conman. Minori—or whatever was using her body—might be good at erasing their presence, but they were a dogshit actor.

The room outside of Minori's little box was a furious mess. Various psychics were yelling, their agitated energies filling the room with a silt-black swamp of emotions. Asagiri was being beaten back verbally, the idiots yelling at him about how he treated his poor daughter.

The only people who weren't in a tizzy were Mob, Ritsu, Teru, and Dimple. Well, scratch Dimple. He looked like he was going to pass out, more green about the gills than he'd ever seen the spirit before. He kinda reminded Reigen of a small, scared dog.

As he left the room, one of the Rising Sun goons passed him on his way in. Reigen tried not to bristle from the shock of mirror green distaste that radiated off the man, flecks of carmine pride sharp pepper spikes against his nature. Reigen hoped that the thing in Minori didn't hurt the man.

Everyone was looking at him now, as the one who spent time with Minori first. "Well, I'll say this much," Reigen sighed with enough force to hurt, trying his best to get his emotions across, shoving his aura against the energy of the room to try and infect them with his calmer unease, "I can't sense anything."

An eruption of noise nearly bowled him over again, everyone clamoring to agree with him, to accuse Asagiri of selling his daughter's body, to complain about the waste of their time. Reigen had to just grimace at their unprofessional actions.

"I didn't say everything was fine. Sheesh." Reigen rapped his knuckles against the wall near the window. He rolled his eyes as everyone looked back at him. "Something's definitely wrong with her."

"You believe me?" Asagiri looked like he was going to cry.

"Of course." Honestly, the way these half-baked idiots treated the client. What a terrible work environment. He bet their Mobble reviews were abysmal for their bedside manner alone.

Read the Rest on AO3

[mollinette]

"Then you cannot re-roll"

idk thinkin bout watcher!grian

[nouverx]

I absolutely loved the recent duo print of Alastor and Charlie on streamily and I wanted to make an hypothetical duo print of Alastor and Niffty in a similar style. A man can dream 💀

I also wish he had one with Rosie ofc he needs a duo print with all his girlies. Maybe I'll draw that next time who knows

[lotus-pear]

have you ever done . . . . genderbend dazai . . . . . . ebef ore .e.e. ... . .

when i tell you i speedran coloring this,,,,,,I LOVE WOMEN SO FUCKING MUCH

[vinesaucejoelfacts]

FACT:

[saltycryptid]

"You know, I've been catching myself smiling more lately."

🥺🥺 shadowheart is everything to me tbh,,, 💖💖

[hootydoot]

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

[writeastorywhere]

It always grinds my gears when a writer doesn't seem to have any love for human beings. Everyone is inhospitable, or too stupid to function, or too much a stock archetype to develop in any meaningful way. Not because I personally think that human beings are intrinsically good ("good" is a useless designation for real people anyways) but because real human beings have the fucking range.

Most people aren't going to be inhospitable to random strangers, because that's not a useful way to live your life--being needlessly cruel is a good way to get your shit pushed in. If someone is being stupid about one thing, chances are there's something else they know a lot about, because nobody is blanket bad at everything. And of course most people are going to subtly contradict any stock archetypes they're assigned.

That's not to say that people can't be cruel and stupid and predictable; it's just that they're kind and intelligent and chaotic in equal measure, and when I see a writer forgetting that, it frustrates me, because that's good drama you're missing! You could be taking advantage of all that. And what are you doing instead? cheap bullshit. boring asf

[ovegakart]

i dont read read lu fics a lot, but when i do, holy fanon batman

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

he likes trying to be smooth but he's too much of a simp not to melt before he finishes a sentence

get smooched, idiot

[cherrirui-official]

Awe yeah Hitman JD art (+ semi-unrelated doodle bc I wanted to put something over the cut)

!! Blood warning for the art under the cut !!

@lemony-and-zesty HI I stumbled upon your Hitman John Dory au while looking at trolls fanart and I'm SO NORMAL abt him!!!! I just had to draw him I hope that's okay

[artwinx]

and they were best friends since childhood...

so, guys chose days ago for 40s stevebucky so here it goes...

my commissions are still open and you can support me on ko-fi

[cayliecoltrane]

etho’s first encounter with rusty!!!!! :O

[princeyam]

finally posting my piece for @sheikzine ⭐️ i drew sheik from retro studios canceled sheik game!