because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY
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Family Dinners - dpxdc
"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.
The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.
"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.
"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.
"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."
"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."
Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.
Ancients, that's so weird!
The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.
Wait. Family dinners?
He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.
"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.
"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.
From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.
"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"
"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"
"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."
"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."
The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.
Come on, Danny, recover!
"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."
"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?
"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."
"Costume? What do you mean?"
Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.
"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!
"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.
"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.
His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.
"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.
Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"
"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"
"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."
"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.
It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.
It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.
Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.
"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."
Once again, the whole table falls into silence.
"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"
"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"
"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."
Danny's grin freezes in place.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."
"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"
Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.
"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.
"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."
An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.
"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.
"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."
"What did happen?"
"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."
"How long in the future was it?"
"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.
Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"
"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."
"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."
"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"
"What?"
"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."
Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.
"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.
"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."
"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"
"Damian, stop—"
"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."
"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."
"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.
"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."
"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."
"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."
"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."
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After discovering Dustin doesn't have a dad and that Steve's jerk of a father is never around, Wayne decides he wants to take the pair on a camping/fishing trip. Nothing too exhausting or arduous. And certainly not in any kind of men-needing-to-be-out-in-the-wilderness-asserting-their-masculine-dominance way. At all. He'd had enough of that from his own father.
Besides, he knows Dustin likes exploring the outdoors with all his scientific endeavours. Observing the weather, looking up at the stars and studying wildlife. Mapping out their surroundings by hand with only a compass. Looking up plants and trees in his Midwest Wildlife textbook he lugs around a lot of the time. Wayne makes sure to encourage Dustin to bring any of his sciencey stuff he might want and discourages the others from teasing him about it. He even makes room in the back of the van, right next to his fishing basket.
Eddie similarly just wants to explore. Though Wayne would argue his nephew more forages like it's his natural habitat than Dustin's more focused studious approach. Wayne's brother Al had always taken issue with Eddie's desire to explore their surroundings when he'd tagged along on their camping trips. A tradition when Eddie was much younger that grew scanter as years went on and Al got himself into more trouble.
Al had always chided the boy, saying he was the troublemaker. 'Unfocused' he meant, along with all those other cruel things Wayne defended when Al said them just loud enough for Eddie to hear. But now Wayne lets him roam - under the strict stipulation he comes back before sundown and doesn't do anything too stupid like jump in a running river, of course!
Steve, on the other hand, simply wants to go fishing and cook up what they catch. Just sit by the campfire and look into the flames as they exist out in nature for a weekend, mostly in silence. He seems calmer - happier, even - as he sips quietly on a beer or two. And of course, Steve is an apt fisherman too.
When they arrive home to an overly-worried Claudia Henderson waiting on bated breath for her son as she stands between her two-door car and Steve's shiny maroon Beemer, Dustin practically tumbles out of the car, babbling a mile a minute as he flaps about his notebook filled with his 'findings'. Whatever they are, Wayne still doesn't quite understand.
And Steve gives him a tight hug that lingers for a long while, making Wayne realises the young man might be the loneliest boy in the world.
"Thanks, Wayne," he mumbles, stepping back and propping a hand on his hip like he is trying to remain casual.
"Any time, kid," he smiles and reaches out to pat Steve on the shoulder, "We'll go next time I have a few days off."
Steve gives the faintest sign of an agreeable nod, unaware that Wayne fully means it as a promise.
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Just two siblings back from the dead, hanging out, totally not using this opportunity to torment one another for the rest of time! <3
Chara Week Day 4: Flowers
[Image Description: A digital drawing of Chara and Flowey from Undertale. They're on the Surface, with grass and trees and mountains stretching out behind them. Chara has golden flowers clustered around their left eye and speckled in their hair and on their hands. They're kneeling on the ground and smiling wide, holding Flowey's flower pot in one arm. Their other hand is outstretched in front of them and holding a camera. Flowey has a red bow wrapped around his stem and stickers in the shape of hearts, stars, and smiley faces decorating his pot. He looks annoyed as Chara leans their face in close to his to take a photo. /End ID]
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eddie only lets you touch his hair. and if someone else does he gets upset I feel.
fr!! hes very particular about who gets to touch his hair. he’s such a dork I love him
fem!reader
eddie finds a knot in his hair at hellfire, and it’s driving him crazy but he can’t get it out himself for the life of him. dustin notices his aggravation and is like dude here. let me and eddie yells at him and slaps his hands away. but then when you come to pick him up from club, he’s pushing himself into your chest, arms around your waist, all whiny. babe :( I got a knot again :(( will you get it out for me?
unfortunately dustin and co are also leaving club and see the whole thing. you getting eddie to sit on a bench as you stand over him. you running your fingers through eddie’s hair gentle as ever, working at the stubborn knot until it’s gone. eddie practically melting under your touch. the sticky, sappy thank you kiss he gives you.
poor eddie doesn’t hear the end of it. complaints of that’s disgusting, dude and why’d you let her touch your hair and not me? it’s childish, eddie thinks. they’re just jealous they don’t have a pretty girl to get knots out of their hair like he does.
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thinking about zoro being the crew's main protector.
it’s quite literally his role amongst the straw hats; luffy's captain, usopp's their sniper, sanji cooks, nami navigates, chopper's their doctor, franky's their shipwright, jinbei's their helmsman and brook's their musician but zoro? zoro's their swordsman. zoro’s their guardian. his job is to be the first line of defense and protect everybody else so they can focus on doing their own thing and sure, none of them really need protecting— but they don't have to worry about defending themselves, either, because whoever they can't or don't want to handle zoro will finish up (if he hasn't gotten to them first).
like imagine a bunch of idiots cornering one of the crew (bad idea.) and picking nami because she's the woman without a devil fruit, as opposed to robin (BAD idea.). they've got her surrounded in the dead end of an alleyway and have somehow neutralised her clima-tact and she’s not worried, she’s not.
but against twelve men and with her weapon essentially now just a regular staff, she might be panicking. just a little. she’s gotten a couple of them good enough that they’re down for the count before a chain wrapped around her ankle trips her. it pulls at enough memories, faded but never forgotten, to bring up a sickening wave of fear and anger— and nami decides that she’s had enough of the bullshit.
she takes a deep breath and screams. “ZORO!”
the silence afterwards is deafening. the wind shifts, gently lifting the pieces of hair stuck to her sweaty face, and the men laugh uneasily. one of them yanks hard on the chain and she spits at him, heels scrabbling against the dusty ground even as he starts reeling her in like a fish on a hook. “he can’t hear you, little missy,” he snickers, grin widening the longer nobody shows up.
it’s still on his face when his head slides right off his neck.
blood sprays right before his body crumples like a doll. it takes a second for the others to realise and then the screaming starts— none of them get any farther than three steps before zoro’s cutting them down, swift swings of his sword and almost surgically precise slices rendering them incapacitated if not plain dead.
“sorry i’m late, witch.” the swordsman’s breathing hard, gore dripping off his blades even as he arcs one down and snaps the chain off nami’s leg with a growl. “did they hurt you?”
“no. no, i’m fine,” nami breathes, her smile quivering just a little— not because she’s shaken, no. because she’s pissed.
zoro’s voice is gruff as always, but his hands are careful if not outright gentle as he kneels to inspect her ankle before pulling her to her feet. “stay close,” he mutters, making sure that she’s nodded before cutting them a path through the fray. they bump into chopper next, and the doctor’s out cold over zoro’s shoulder in his regular form by the time sanji joins them to guard their flank. nami’s taken to just using her clima-tact as a bat for now, and it’s admittedly efficient.
she knew zoro would come. he always does. for all that they bicker and snip at each other, zoro has always protected his crew— even when said crew was just three people on what could barely be called a boat. he’d fought for her at arlong park and he fights for her now, his sword slicing over her head at an enemy she can’t see as she ducks low to jam her staff into another’s stomach.
they’ve moved closer to their ship when they find jinbei, then robin, then usopp, then brook and franky, and then zoro’s yelling luff, time to go! and their captain’s launching them all back onto the Sunny with a gleeful cackle that makes nami wheeze a laugh as they land in a mildly painful pile of limbs. somebody’s elbow digs into her ribs and she’s pretty sure that’s sanji’s bony kneecap pressed into her lower back. the swordsman swears as he sets about trying to pry them all apart and luffy seems to be actively fighting him, based on how his cursing’s getting more and more colourful.
behind them, their enemies burn, sliced to pieces. they debrief in the galley and zoro refuses to come away from the door until nami drags him by the ear and sanji threatens to personally shove dessert down his throat. they both know it’s because zoro’s still guarding them from a threat that doesn’t exist anymore.
they know he pretends not to care as much as he does. they know he keeps his words blunt and his swords sharp, but zoro lets luffy hang off him, unfazed, and makes a marginal effort to stick to nami’s budget even when he’s getting booze, and he eats his dessert. every last bit. he lets usopp fire moving targets to slice through so they can both practice. he keeps collateral damage when sparring with sanji to a minimum. he stitches whoever needs it up himself when chopper’s a little too tired.
and when his crew calls, he answers.
(now with a part from nami’s pov!)
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In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more)
And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-
Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others)
Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.
To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)
And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.
Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.
The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.
They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making.
So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them.
What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again.
But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early.
But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy.
Its can so yuri
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For a second, they stay locked like this
(I'm mostly a visual person ofc I'm gonna be drawing little scenes now that the thing is out not sry)
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modern!au
"you know, after i watched paddington, i'm fully convinced animals can talk. you know⎯like in toy story. but they're hiding it from us," you rambled, tapping your finger on your chin like you were in deep thought.
alhaitham flipped over on his stomach, shoving his face into his pillow, "please, go to sleep." his voice is muffled as he pleads, which prompts you to go on.
"and another thing," you continue, "does a straw have two holes? or just one? but there has to be two, right? since there are two holes in a straw."
alhaitham turns around, laying on his side as he listens to you, "you do realize you just answered your own question, right?" he mocks you.
you roll your eyes in return, threading your hands through his hair and ruffling it as revenge. you pretend not to hear him sigh out of content, "yeah. but like⎯if it has two holes, why do we only drink out of one?"
this time, alhaitham does not sigh. he groans, "it's getting too late for these kinds of questions."
you raise your eyebrows, a grin slowly appearing on your face, "oh? so i've finally frustrated the curiosity out of you,'" your sentence turned into laughter at the end.
"you have not," alhaitham countered.
"i think i have," you brush your thumb over alhaitham's eyebrow. he held your hand over his eyebrow and rubbed his thumb over it. he takes your silence as a sign that you are succumbing to exhaustion and you are finally about to fall asleep. but he was wrong.
"i just have one more question," you blurted out.
"only one?" he looked up at you with sleepy eyes. the sight made you want to giggle. alhaitham looks vulnerable. he looks adorable, you think.
"only one," you reaffirm, and rub your thumb across his eyebrow once more, "do you think we're together in every universe?"
the question caught him off guard. you never asked questions like these. most of the time, your questions range from shower thoughts to absurdities. but something seemed more intimate about this one.
alhaitham does not know if you two would be together in every universe. the universe is vast and unpredictable. there are endless possibilities and endless outcomes. it would be impossible for you two to be together in every universe.
that being said, he hopes that you two are together in most of them. alhaitham⎯though he holds disdain at your questions⎯could not imagine a life without them. he simply could not think of a world where he doesn't listen to the sound of your voice every night. he could not visualize a world where he wouldn't be a recipient of your love and your warmth.
to envision a world without you in it is like envisioning a world without it's sun. the world would be shrouded in darkness, without a single bit of light. there would be no warmth, and everything would have froze to death and died.
he looks at you while he thinks about his answer. if he had to wake up every day, and your face wasn't the first thing he saw, alhaitham knew he'd be miserable. he spends at least ten minutes of his morning admiring you. without you, what would he do?
there would be no one to brush his teeth with. there would be no one to eat dinner with. there would be no one to talk to in the middle of the night. life truly seems empty there. he pities all the other alhaithams in the vast universe that have to live without you. it must be horrific, living like that.
so, he makes sure to make this universe count.
"c'mere," he pulls you down to lay with him. you're on your side now as alhaitham pulls you closer, "i'll tell you my answer."
your eyes perk up, having been anticipating his answer the past few minutes. would he disagree or agree? does he think you two would last over different dimensions?
"really? because i think that we'll⎯" alhaitham cuts you off by placing his hand on your jawline and pressing his lips onto yours. it's slow, soft, and quite sensual. his other hand travels down to your hip, slowly rubbing circles on the bone as he continues to kiss you. you don't seem to mind or pull away, as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.
your legs are intertwined with alhaitham's as you pull away. suddenly, you feel a lot tired than you did a few minutes ago. was this alhaitham's plan all along? did he just try to kiss you into exhaustion? whatever just happened, it would not work. you will get your answer.
you lean on his chest for one minute, and then you fall asleep.
alhaitham didn't intend for that to happen. it was just a small bonus. what he really wanted to do, was to appreciate what he had in front of him. to not take you for granted. he considers how lucky he is: he is here, in bed with you, and he gets to listen to you ramble. he is privileged enough to hear the sound of your voice, your laughter, your thoughts. he just wanted to show that off.
but now, you're entangled in his limbs, dozing off peacefully as you relax into his chest. you'll harass him more about his answer later, but for now, he only mumbles it to you.
"i hope we are together in every universe."
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oh, i love the way relationships develop their own personal language of love. when all that joy shows the way they love you. i love when it is a little icon to who they are, to how you get along with them.
my sister takes a picture of a dead bug and sends it to me - this is you. my friend asks me how the move is going; she put a reminder in her phone to check up on me. i put a piece of ice down my friend's back, he returns the favor by holding my phone over my head and making me jump to catch it. jason and i scream-sing green day while going all of 15 miles an hour down country roads. molly is who i go to for a quiet night in with 5 dollar wine.
i go out for dinner with them and have to step outside to take a phone call; when i come back they've ordered my favorite appetizer without needing to be asked. andrew and i have a long-standing tradition of him picking me up to spike me directly into the first soft-looking surface around. i don't even need to speak to my best friend - she and i will just look at each other and have an entire conversation. burst out laughing at 3 PM, high and cackling like we're evil witches. i just moved by myself into a new city - my brother keeps introducing me to his friends that now live close to me. he always says - oh yeah, this is sibling and then pretends to ignore me. for days now, my family has been in and out of my apartment, just tinkering with things; making sure i am settling in nicely.
i usually have watermelon instead of cake for my birthday; kim forces a full yankee candle into the rind so i can have something to blow out and wish on. for 20 minutes on a saturday, all us grown adults crawl into one bed to have a cuddle puddle like we're in high school again. every 20 seconds someone starts giggling, and then we're laughing again. nick calls me from california; we both groan about the price of tickets, agonizing. miranda and i meet up in the city for the first time in years - without discussing it beforehand, the minute we lay eyes on each other, we both strike gruesome little gremlin poses instead of waving. dean always goes for the hug. joe always does a single firm handshake. sometimes i think about my friends and get so happy i just start crying.
oh, how wonderful to live in a world where affection is biologically ingrained in us. how wonderful that affection helps us build our single greatest strength - community. how wonderful that affection is our body's way of saying - thing is good, let's keep. how wonderful, this language, this skein we weave! to show the other person - i might not always say it. but i love that you live in me.
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presence // aventurine
he'll never outrightly ask you what it is, not at the outset.
he might find you curled on the couch, quiet, trying to breathe out the something in your chest that writhes and constricts, or in tears, but he won't ask, only sit quietly with you, lean against you, the weight of him enough to reassure you of his presence. maybe you reach for him, curl into the hollow of his body, and he'll let you, hold you until the tears stop, or you can feel your hands again, or you fall asleep, to the steady rhythm of his heart.
you'll wake, or look at him, and he'll speak, then, maybe look back at you with those iridescent eyes that you love, as he asks, softly, if you're feeling better, if you want to talk about it.
he'll keep you company, either way, listening. there is a steadiness in the weight of his arms around you, in the even beat of his heart against your back. you'll have to move, eventually, one of your legs falling asleep under you, and you'll both laugh, and shift. he gently disentangles himself from you, to get you something to drink. you settle back down, curled around each other, talk quietly until the sunlight changes.
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friend of mine gave me the brainrot so. top gun ‘86 but they’re in a band!
goose and mav had the idea to start the band after a night at the o club- goose drags slider into it who drags ice into it (who wanted to join anyways but was too proud to admit it) ice and mav argue about who gets to be lead vocal but eventually ice relents, and it’s not just because of the smile on mav’s face… definitely not (icemav worms got to me)
anyways this is super self indulgent but very fun to draw so pls enjoy
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the kids released a new album
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