#this was sooo cheesy

[ecstarry]

@rosekillermicrofic / forever / 183 words / @fromagony

Barty and Evan were 14 years old 

“Are you ready?” Barty hesitantly asked. 

“Are you?” Evan countered in a tone that lacked as much certainty as Barty’s.

“Fuck it. Let’s get this over with.” 

They looked at each other once last time as they walked through the doors that were sure to change everything: High School. 

Then, Barty and Evan were 18 years old 

“Are you ready?” Barty asked, a little eager this time. 

“Are you?” Evan replied with a smirk.

“Fuck it. Let’s get this over with.” 

Once again, they looked at each other once last time as they walked through new doors: College. 

And then, Barty and Evan were 27 years old 

“Are you ready?” Barty asked, excitement all over his body. 

“Are you?” Evan replied with something reserved only for Barty: tenderness.

“Fuck it. Let’s get this over with.” 

They looked at each other again, as they had been doing all their lives. Two boys that grew up with nothing to care for but each other. They were on the other side of a new door, placing a ring in each other’s fingers. A forever. 

[gglinaa]

from this week

[kyuhu]

I love silly little AUs agh

[azuries]

close call!

[serendippertyy]

Do you have any ineffable bureaucracy headcanons that you haven’t shared yet? :)

(this might be long and the doodle is kinda wonky but I got excited seeing this ask srry lol)

oh i have PLENTY that I'm planning to slowly roll out through doodles but since u asked here's one as a little treat ^^

i like to keep in mind that angels and demons are just little weird creatures in human disguises and so I love making them behave like weird little creatures sometimes- specifically demons, seeing as they already have animalistic traits

so with that being said gabe and beez looove grooming eachother like critters do!! I've already said before beelzebub likes to preen gabriel's feathers, but beez has no feathers of their own, so gabe loves to pamper them with massages and head scratches heehee

you see beez has permanent remnants of their fall, like painful blemishes and completely damaged hair from being burned, so having that soothed is something they absolutely love! they also buzz like crazy almost like purring :P

DON'T tell anyone the former demon lord occasionally likes scratchies omg that's so embarrassing - I feel like I'm invading their privacy doodling this LMAOOO 🙈😋

[eggo-tistical]

merry valentine’s day squad

[lemongogo]

< 2023 trgnz

[ladycheesington]

[apurpledust]

quick sketch of Naps somewhat inspired by @cadmusfly's fic 🥺in my mind not does Junot loves Naps as much as a savage loves the sun, he's also as beautiful as the sun ☀️

[batticorn]

i might b cringe but im free

[ireallydohateyou2]

[yujeong]

There were moments when Vegas eyed his father's associates, the ones whose gaze lingered on his body a little too long, and instead of fury, instead of shame, there would be desperation brewing under his skin. Moments when he wished to be destroyed, ruined; begging to be changed in a way that would cause the something festering within, to turn into nothing. Because nothing was better than something. Because nothing meant the buzzing inside his head would stop and the pain would go away. Because nothing meant peace and quiet. He craved it. There were moments when Pete eyed his opponents in the ring, the ones whose body was made to break people's spines and their egos, and instead of anxiety, instead of fear, there would be anticipation flowing through his heart. Moments when he was hungry for violence, hungry for a home; begging for his father to hit him in a way that would make the nothing existing within, to turn into something. Because something was better than nothing. Because something meant he was real and alive. Because something meant a proud father and a happy grandmother. He longed for it. Eventually, even though they had stopped hoping for it, it happened. Eventually, Vegas became nothing - no minor family ring on his finger, no win against Kinn - and Pete became something - first a pet, then the most important person in someone's life - and it was strange how foreign it felt, how unfamiliar, but they didn't mind. Because together, they became everything.

[smileyobrien]

I think we should boldly get the hell out of here... STAR TREK: PICARD | 3.04 "No Win Scenario"

[good-beanswrites]

I wonder where Mahiru got the idea for "A Different Kind of Love". I'd say it's Amane because I'm biased. But more likely, Mahiru saw little acts of love from everyone, and she realized that romantic love isn't all there is to it.

Drabble request? *twiddles fingers* Or if not, headcanons work too.

Ough I was crying through that whole chapter, it was really beautiful ;--; (Haha, I'm biased and think it'd come from Fuuta! but) I ended up writing something with Amane and found a really sweet idea to run with. They both just want to teach one another...

“It’s not scary at all, because it’s love.” Amane gave a decisive nod, pleased with her explanation. She’d been at a loss for words lately, weighed down with exhaustion and pain, so it was nice to finally feel like she was articulating herself well. 

That is, until she got a look at the horror painted across Mahiru’s face.

“I… I’m not sure…” She shifted uncomfortably. “That doesn’t sound… quite like love.”

It was understandable that Mahiru wouldn’t understand. Amane had heard the way she talked. More importantly, Amane had heard how the others talked about her. Mahiru had a very rigid view of love. She wasn’t a narrow-minded person like some others here, but she certainly had some work to do in that area. 

Amane took a breath. She’d grown tired of trying to teach these sinful adults anything, but Mahiru was always a good listener. 

“Not all love is shown in the same way. A strong bond requires respect. Discipline.”

Mahiru still didn’t look convinced. Her smile seemed forced on her lips. She tugged absently on one of her colorful earrings. “I know love comes in all shapes and sizes. But… I don’t think it should be so… harsh.”

“Let us take Kajiyama for an example.” Amane folded her hands in her lap. It felt good to be speaking like this, as equals. “His behavior in the first trial was nothing but harsh. And yet, you’re the one who spoke up on his behalf, pointing out ways that he cared to the others.”

“That’s true. But Fuuta never hurt anyone.”

“Fuuta has hurt many people.”

“W–well yes, but I meant…” Her face twisted into the one and only expression Amane hated to see from her. A sad sort of smile. There was love in it – which is the reason Amane tolerated it at all – but so much pity, as well. 

As quick as it had come, it was replaced by one of her signature little smiles. “I’ll tell you what, will you play a little game with big sis Mahiru?”

Amane’s mouth was open to reject the idea until Mahiru hurriedly added, “I do love games. I don’t get to play as many, now that the warden didn’t forgive me…”

She huffed. Mahiru turned her round, brown eyes on her. Amane let out another noisy breath. “What is it…?” 

Mahiru clapped her hands together. “Yay~! It’ll be fun, I promise! Let’s pick out the ways that the prisoners show their love! We’ll keep track of it during the day, and keep score at night. You said it yourself, there are so many ways that people show it. Let’s try and notice them all!” She held a finger to her lips. “But we’ll keep it secret. And we’ll try to find something for everyone.”

Amane scoffed. “We’re not going to find one for everyone.” There were a few people who were not graced with the capacity for real love, she had found. 

“Well then, that’s what will make it an interesting game, yeah~?”

—

Mahiru bid Amane a good night. She kept the notebook open on her lap for a moment more. 

The two had busied themselves keeping a secret scoreboard throughout the past few weeks. Mahiru was worried the idea would fizzle out quickly, (as most of her spontaneous plans usually did,) but she hadn’t accounted for how committed Amane was when she put her mind to something. 

Each and every night, Amane would appear in Mahiru’s cell, picking up the notebook to add in the day’s entries. Mahiru would scramble to come up with a few of her own, as she’d forgotten to pay attention throughout the day.

Though she hadn’t actually noticed any decrease in game-playing, the warden’s verdict had hurt her in other ways. If Es rejected her love, what did she have left? If her love truly did hurt others, and Milgram thought she should be punished for it, wouldn’t it be better for her to never show it again? Now and then she’d be crushed under the weight of the verdict, the voices, the guilt. She considered withholding all the kindness within her – what if it got someone else killed? Hadn’t it already come close?

But this little exercise with Amane… 

Originally, the idea had come to her as a way to prove that not a single entry in their notebook featured any harm – no screamed words, no contradictory rules, and certainly no physical pain. It would be a way to keep Amane from staying in her cell all day. Mahiru wasn’t sure if the others necessarily appreciated the nonstop surveillance from Amane’s single, bright eye, but Mahiru knew what a blessing it really was. 

To her surprise, she’d felt swaying within her own heart, as well.

Mahiru ran her finger across the chart, lingering on various entries. Some were as big and grand as she had expected: “held Muu’s hand when she was nervous after a nightmare;” “complimented Mikoto’s appearance after he’d taken a long time to style his hair.” Physical touch, gifts, compliments, it all made sense to her.

Other lines had surprised her: “changed the subject when Kazui started looking uncomfortable;” “explained a joke to Haruka when he didn’t understand it at first;” “left Yuno alone when she seemed too tired to talk.” Amane brought much more variety when she wrote down the things she’d witnessed

Just as Mahiru was teaching Amane something about love, the girl was revealing something to her about it. The mere act of picking out others’ acts of kindness, recognizing when they were trying, even imperfectly, acknowledging when the others touched something deep inside of themselves – it all proved something new.

Her finger paused over a recent addition in Amane’s neat handwriting. “Spoke to me like an adult.” 

It was in a column filled otherwise with Mahiru’s pen strokes. Shidou’s.

“Huh…”

[lotus-sunn]

The woman who lies only in my screen

I could never forget the first time we had met the feeling she gave me was one like no other

my breath got caught in my throat and all I could do was stare in utter awe at the woman before me

she was gorgeous and surrounded in ethereal lighting as if she was a goddess

and I was convinced she was one with how she carried herself and with how lovely her words were

How could a woman like that exist how could she? Someone so kind but still carried a sense of loneliness in the air every time she spoke

Only memories of her smile and laughs can fill my ears and they all but take over my mind when someone mentions her name

how can anyone not love a woman like that? She was the stars itself, just as beautiful and painfully distant

Yet I only ached to reach my hands toward her and see her once more

to truly appreciate her presence was something I could never truly do because just as I was seeing her

she disappeared in the beautiful galaxy she calls her home

I can only hope she returns back onto my screen once more