#he doesn't get it yet

[inkskinned]

there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)

i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.

i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.

and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.

HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.

now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.

my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.

i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.

by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!

keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"

similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."

the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"

if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.

the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.

godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.

the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.

#this is objectively bad advice #don't listen to it protect yourself and do real work on yourself find one of the good posts i've made about this #but also. u know. if u want to have fun while u do the work of setting boundaries #.... it IS fun #i will say that my fear of him went SO down after i just started. fucking with him. #bc i used to get SO fucking upset #i'd spend WEEKS arguing with him. tearing my hair out. sick with anxiety and dread and anger about all of it #and now i just LITERALLY do not engage #instead i'm like '' haha :) mole people" and get the HELL out of any tense conversation #i kind of think some of these people are literally addicted to drama as a form of connection #they like the rush they get from arguing #but those arguments are incredibly damaging for me #so like..... i am in the process of literally rehabilitating this person to figure out how to find connection thru #NORMAL CONVERSATION #he doesn't get it yet #i also do talk to them like they're preschool kids lmafo . ''are you using a safe and kind voice right now?'' #'' do you need a snackie? you sound a little upset. let's have some hummus and come back to playtime when we feel ready''

[lazylittledragon]

dorian and astarion obtain a Son

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #tav #tavstarion #i think i'm getting the hang of his stupid face #too tired to colour today sorry #pet shops are Out letting your ranger bring home a feral goblin is in #he doesn't have a name yet so i'm taking suggestions

[bigfatbreak]

If the Kwami remember the old timeline, then Wayzz, Tikki and Plagg must remember Adrien and Marinette, right? Wouldn't they lead Fu to them? Or is something preventing Fu from doing that/Fu thinks it's too risky to make a move with Hawkmoth/Gabriel watching??

well... hm, there's kind of a problem. The timeline was mostly reset, but there are lingering echoes that things aren't right. For one, the Kwami remember the last timeline - so do the Sentikids, and in fact, so do robots/AI's of any fashion. Not only that, but some mechanisms, nonorganics, exist as though the last timeline was still in place, like passwords and lingering, half-corrupted photographs in dead links and dead blogs.

...so,

uh. ehe. oops.

#fu can't get into the miracle box because the miracle box identifies Marinette as the guardian #it doesn't matter if she is or isn't: she's physically the password to get inside it #Fu IS still scouting for people to have the LB and CN miraculi #he just... can't get into it. yet. #dad villain au #master fu #wayzz #my art #imagine trying to reset a computer back to default settings #but you can still only login using the most recent user's password #that's whats going on here

[theminecraftbee]

incidentally. every time i see someone speculating about "what if the season ends soon". i know we're safe for the time being and don't have to worry. because tango doesn't understand the idea of "good enough" and as a result if the season ends before decked out 2 has been played for its entire two-month run, he legally would be allowed to become a serial killer. and like, he lives near impulse and skizz, and maybe they're acceptable losses, but the entire state of arizona isn't. and who knows. maybe more. and the hermits can't be responsible for tango murdering the entire state of arizona (and who knows maybe more). they just can't. so the season can't end yet. because decked out 2 isn't done. and hasn't been played for its entire run yet. because the fate of arizona depends on it. you understand, right?

#hermitcraft #tangotek #is this funnier if i remembered what state tango lives in wrong #anyway also joe's pinball machine isn't done yet and I PERSONALLY would become a serial killer if he doesn't get the chance to finish more #but i've seen some 'huh it seems like lots of people are wrapping up' talk in a few places #and listen. tango would be allowed to start eating people. we can't be responsible for that.

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao) #but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

[htub]

I really like that they made Jor-El speak Kryptonian and Clark unable to understand him. The whole "aliens speak English" thing that happens in every goddamn media has bothered me all my life. Ik sometimes Clark just gets zapped in the brain for insta-second language but that always felt like a cheap shortcut.

Jor-El had a lot on his mind when he set up that magic spaceship okay. The world was ending and he was trying to do as much as he could before time ran out so he could be there for his son. He was rushing. He likely didn't consider Kal would be raised with a whole different language and not know any Kryptonian nor have anyone to teach him.

#my adventures with superman #two talks #he still might get zapped with kryptonian but at least it wasn't immediate #let there be a language barrier #it hits home so hard too bc i barely speak my mom's language and can't really talk to my family members bc of iz #it* #that's what being raised on a different planet IS! It's isolating and sad bc that's your FAMILY and you can't even understand them #fucking love superman #clark is so close and yet so far bc everything he craves to know about himself is Right There #but he doesn't speak the language of his own people and has no way to learn #it's heartbreaking and i'm so fucking here for it

[hajihiko]

a long time ago I was like "I bet there are a lot of characters that are both touch-starved and touch-averse" so. Thinks

Impostor explanation: has been around the whole scale as various identities, has a hard time understanding themselves and their own true preference. Tends to just adjust to whoever they're around.

#not an art #sdr2 #super danganronpa 2 #I used to be that combination team! Not anymore. Now I'm just touch starved lol #Akane and Nekomaru are doing so good im proud. I think they both get affection from each other- #-and are also just healthy enough to seek out what they need. Akane had loving siblings and Nekomaru knows the benefits of human touch #Nagito is touch starved but some of it is his own fault. Refuses to seek a solution to this problem (same with Fuyuhiko) #Peko is more touch starved than she thinks but she's so used to pushing her wants aside that she doesn't realize it yet #Kaz actually gets a lot of physical affection because he seeks it out so often! He just also always needs more. #OK thats it bye

[egophiliac]

so on the subject of the "Crowley is secretly Revaan/Laverne/Levin/please Twst give us his name" theory, I think my feelings are best summed up as "I don't really buy it, but it's funny". like, in all seriousness, I'm not opposed to it; I have enjoyed the writing in Twst so far and I'm willing to trust that whatever happens will, you know, make sense and not be terrible. but I'm just not really convinced by the current evidence! maybe that'll change once we learn more, we'll see!

with that said, may I propose a few alternate theories about the possible Crowley/Revaan connection:

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #on this installment of things nobody asked but i'm going to talk about anyway #disclaimer that this is mostly a joke please don't get mad at me #(legit no shade to anyone) (speculation is one of the fun things about an ongoing fandom and you never know what'll turn out to be true!) #more seriously i do think there may be some connection that just isn't clear yet #but the more little breadcrumbs we get about what revaan was like the more i think crowley just doesn't act like him #i adore crowley don't get me wrong #(yes he's a dipshit. this is a feature not a bug.) #but like. #not to harp on the scene about lilia's nrc invitation (i am absolutely going to harp on it) #i do not believe that crowley would go through the trash to fish out the pieces and put them back together and save them #just because it was lilia's. just because lilia might want it again someday. #crowley can ✨yasashii✨ all he wants but we know what he's like #and i REALLY do not believe that lilia wouldn't recognize him. i didn't believe it before and i extra don't believe it now. #then again i do tend to be incredibly off about speculation so! who knows! i will trust the writing for now! #i do 100% believe that meleanor would fall in love with the world's biggest dumbass and then double down super hard. that part tracks. #that said i have decided that ambrose being revaan is actually the funnier option just because it would make crowley SO mad #it wouldn't make sense for him to be mad about it and that would just make him madder

[starwarjotta]

Day 5 - caf since my scribbles can be totally illegible, here’s a transcript Obi-Wan: Here you go, Cody Cody: Oh, thanks, sir Cody: this... it’s caf? Obi-Wan: Ah, yes! I’ve noticed my teas are not really to your tastes, so I stocked up some caf for you instead! I hope it’s okay Cody: ... oh Cody: ...thank you.

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #star wars #tcw #starwarstober23 #little comic #I absolutely love the trope of them doing flimsiwork together and drinkin tea and caf #and Cody doesn't really like the teas Obi-Wan gives him but drinks them anyway because no one has EVER offered him something like that #and he'd rather jump out of an airlock than hurt Obi-Wan's feelings #so he sucks it up and drinks it and maybe even almost likes one blend or two #but ofc Obi-Wan notices at some point that Cody obviously isn't a big fan of teas so he'll get him caf instead #and if Cody already marveled at someone offering him something like tea this is a whole another level #a cup of caf is practically a love letter to Cody #I love them so much #codywan every day all the time #THEM #idiots in love #I also always struggle with coloring comics like do I color them or not????? so they end up colored kinda in this half-assed way usually #also if it hasn't become clear yet I can't draw backgrounds and struggle with that too so everything always takes place in some weird LIMBO

[blackcathjp]

ppl seem to like the idea of harry courting draco or harry doing big public displays of affection to ask him out (think promposals). but i feel like he'd be so awkward at dating. he doesn't quite know what to do with or show physical and emotional affection, the weasleys give him bad advice on romance, he's also oblivious when ppl are interested in him.

what he does have is earnestness and determination - he makes the first move on accident, just bursts out his feelings, brave and embarrassed.

draco knows all about courting and respects tradition, but he's not the type to make the first move (not anymore at least, not like when he was a kid, where running to his parents for safety and comfort was a luxurious option). he's calculating and weighs his options - what if he confesses but harry doesn't like him? what if he confesses and harry DOES like him? what if harry likes him, but doesn't like dating him? he's more hesitant and guarded with his feelings, but is more likely to show his affection towards loved ones.

harry asks him out in the middle of a conversation, just because he loves watching how passionate draco gets about something he loves. even after weeks of dating, draco insists on courting him the "proper way", showering him with gifts, writing letters that make harry blush, leaving loving post-its all over harry's home and work desk, delivering anonymous flowers, publicly asking if he can escort harry home (they're both embarrassed). he's touchy feely too, which harry isn't used to, but physical contact becomes easy and second nature now with draco. harry doesn't quite get the courting, yet still loves it.

harry: you already have me, draco 😊😆

draco: i still want to woo you though 🥹😤

#harry is earnest and determined in life but always had a bigger responsibility to be a hero #romance and physical affection are just kinda like. there in the back of his head #still trying to figure out what he wants and trying to express that #yet he's also touch starved and touch deprived #draco knows exactly what he wants but w/out $ and status he doesn't know how to get it #he's a very prideful person who takes a bad hit and gets humbled and becomes a better yet still prideful person #anyway this is supposed to be a cute idea of drarry courting ways #fics where harry figures out what he wants bc he's never wanted before >>> #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry blurb #drarry headcanons #writing

[saragapen]

Scorpions from the past

#the Scorpions are a reference to his comics and past trauma #i definitely think that ghost would have triggers or moments where he beeaks down and some of them are during really bad moments #also i post more soapghost on twitter #It's 7am and I have yet to sleep but my mind is only thinking about the next part of the comic #simon would most likely disassociate and ghost would take over #soap would blame himself because he couldn't calm him down in time to not let ghost come out #If he hadn't pressed his mouth closed so hard or bs able to properly calm down #that he wouldn't have to build this wall up again. #i also think ghost would come out especially when he realizes that Simon's directly putting not only soap but himself in harm's way #But the comfort bits where soap slowly softens ghost back up by just spending time near him #telling jokes and getting simon to realise he's safe again so he doesn't need to put up the walls #but soaps inability to help was the final straw that let ghost out so it'll be really rough to loosen his walls again #simon riley #ghostsoap #john mactavish #soapghost #fanart #mw2 fanart

[lttleghost]

#🎶can i make it any more obvious🎶 #breaking bad #brba #jesse pinkman #jane margolis #this is my girlfriend don't touch him #t4t couple just Jesse doesn't know he's trans yet #he'll get there

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: The Ghostly Army

The fact that Ghosts can be brainwashed and hypnotized gets out and ends up in the wrong hands. Specifically the hands of Lex Luthor. When he finds this out he's ecstatic. He's been half paying attention to Ghosts since he started getting reports from the Ghost Investigation Ward after he passed their Anti-Ecto Laws, it was part of the law that had been brought to him.

For as long as the law existed he would get as much of the information as those who funded the G.I.W.. It hadn't been something he'd actively cared about until he learned just how powerful one of the ghosts - Phantom - was. Strong enough to take down Superman if he was on the right team, which he wasn't and the G.I.W. wanted him destroyed so it was complicated.

However, after enough 'negotiating' and keeping the situation in Amity Park under the radar and blocking out all calls in and out of the small city to avoid the Justice League from paying them any attention, he was able to convince the G.I.W. to help him out. Bring him Phantom and any other particularly powerful ghost like Phantom and he would allow them to do whatever they wanted with Amity Park.

Now he has not one but three exceedingly powerful Ghosts under his control.

Wisp: A tiny ghost who appeared about 12 with white hair and green eyes.

Wraith: A much larger ghost around 15 who could be Phantom's twin but with red eyes.

and Phantom: A 15 year old child who was apparently more powerful than Wisp and Wraith combined.

They were all under his control, and impossible force that he used to take down not only Superman but any member of the Justice League who dared stand in his way. With Wisp's small size and speed, Wraith's rage and strength, and Phantom's power and experience there would be no stopping them!

----

Meanwhile, in Gotham City there is a very pissed off Vampire and two people in jumpsuits running around looking for their three missing children and anybody who will listen to them. Which, Batman was already planning on doing before the Vampire decided to all but kidnap Nightwing as collateral in case they 'didn't have his full attention'.

Whoever these three pissed off parents were, their kids were important to them and soon they would become important to the entire Justice League... maybe even the world.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #my prompts #Vlad changed for the better after he learned about Dan #decided to get his shit together before Dan decided to wreck everything #Wisp in Elle #Wraith is Dan #incase I didn't make that clear enough #Good parents Jack and Maddie because despite what I write I do love them #They basically co-parent Elle because she doesn't trust Vlad fully yet and Dan is straight up just his son

[lord-squiggletits]

Pharma is the toxic gay representation MTMTE/LL needed. Dude's so fucking gay for Ratchet that his gayness transcended having his head blown off and having his body be used as a vessel for a god, that's how fucking GAY Pharma is

#and ratchet doesn't fucking deserve it lol #squiggposting #pharma apologism #it's okay dr/tchet is boring as fuck so ratchet can have a boring ass relationship #pharma is the king of my heart. and also have i mentioned yet that he should get to kill people for fun

[theminecraftbee]

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

#trafficblr #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #the watchers #the listeners #a bee fic #this is me getting ALL OF MY MOST PRETENTIOUS URGES OUT before i go write more giftfic #literally all my most favoritest pretentious tropes. death personified. weird audience/writer avatar watchers and listeners. cards. #the series abstracted as a stage show. martyn being tired and confused. #really really ominous portents of the next game that hasn't actually happened yet #this is what self-indulgence looks like. if you're me. #there could not be. a more me fic. #anyway. ANYWAY. martyn doesn't understand why he's here. but why WOULDN'T he be here? #out of everyone in the series he's one of the ones who shapes the narrative the most after all

[buckttommy]

this isn't a horny post but. has buck even... seen a hard penis before that was not his own? like yeah yeah porn but. that's not really the same is it. not when you're not even looking. not when you don't even know that you want to look. like for all intents and purposes buck is completely virginal here and that's. ummm. that's a lot.

#like. oh. oh he's such a baby. he really is a BABY gay like sweet boy. you know nothing #you are about to get your entire perception of life and your body and your inner being absolutely fucking rearranged #especially the perception of his life like. for 30+ years he has lived in one world and it only took one kiss. one handful of seconds to no #just *change* that world but transport him to a completely different one. #everything is going to be different. from the way he approaches his politics (because it means something different when you're actually #fighting for your OWN rights) and the way he approaches his body like. and that's the real kicker for me is like #buck knows his body. he knows what he likes and this that and the other #but he doesn't actually KNOW his body because he doesn't know ALL the ways that it can feel #and all the ways that it can make HIM feel #he has not yet tasted the way his body can electrify him and render him undone and it's like #it truly is like he's becoming another person #and i know that's cheesy to say but this really is like being born again. #oh my god. i'm actively falling asleep. i don't know if this makes sense. you guys get the picture