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emo-batboy · 1 year

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Lately, I’ve been thinking about Battinson who actually has naturally curly, dirty blond hair that he got from his parents. Picture this:

Bruce whose hair is a kaleidoscope of golden blond and strawberry blond and dirty blond that can’t be tamed when it’s humid out because it’s too wavy and curly and voluminous all at once

Bruce who looks so bright and cheerful with his soft facial structure and crazy hair that cannot be replicated because it’s so uniquely Bruce

Bruce who is a spitting image of his mother’s gorgeous natural color and his father’s wild mane

Bruce who absolutely destroys his natural hair because it reminds him too much of his parents

Bruce who tries desperately to avoid the gut-wrenching comments from those stupid rich people who thought they can bring up his parents just because they used to be friends

Bruce who feels physically ill whenever he hears “Oh you look just like your parents.” “They should have been here to see you.” “You’re a spitting image.”

Bruce who religiously dyes his hair a boring brown and straightens the shit out of it until it’s damaged beyond belief by the age of 18 but at least he doesn’t hear those stupid remarks anymore

Bruce who forgets to wash it sometimes but doesn’t care because his hair is his least favorite thing about his appearance

Bruce who gels the ever-loving fuck out of it to avoid it getting it in his eyes, but he also hates getting haircuts so it gets way too long and happens anyway

Bruce who gets greasepaint in it all the time, wears hats and hoods whenever appropriate, just can’t stop messing with it but hates bringing attention to the thing so he has to glue his hands to his side in public

Bruce who is a stranger to everyone and himself, especially his hair

Bruce who mourns it like he’s still mourning his parents

Now imagine:

Bruce who is going through the aftermath of the Riddler case and the floods

Bruce who only just realized that vengeance is not the answer

Bruce who wants to become Hope but doesn’t know how yet

Bruce who decides that he can’t hide himself behind a cowl all the time now so he chooses to develop a better public image

Bruce who realizes this requires a public appearance as well

Bruce who is way too busy saving the city to keep up his hair dye routine so he forgets to touch up his roots a couple of times

Bruce who is advised to stop gelling his hair back so much because it makes him look less approachable

Bruce who feels so awkward and vulnerable when his hair isn’t hidden behind a hat or some product or his cowl but he goes through the motions because he wants to try his best to be the hero Gotham needs right now

Bruce who walks into Mayor Real’s office one morning, hair sticking up all over the place after stopping no less than 10 muggings the night before, his natural dirty blond in full effect and strikingly…warm

“Did you dye your hair?” Real asks. Bruce pauses. “Uh, no. I stopped dying it a few weeks ago.” “I didn’t know your hair was blond.” He braces for the comments, but she doesn’t mention his parents. Instead, she just smiles. “It suits you.”

Bruce who genuinely doesn’t know how to handle the simple compliment so he just awkwardly shuffles around it and into their discussion on infrastructure

Bruce who stands outside of her office for five minutes after their meeting because he hasn’t stopped thinking about the mortifying reality that his natural hair is visible again

Bruce who also can’t stop thinking about how she said it. It suits him.

Bruce whose natural hair suits him?

Bruce who finally gets the time to dye it again after two months of nonstop work but when he thinks about what Real said…he decides against it. For now

Bruce who starts getting used to seeing his dirty blond hair in the mirror again, even expects it. visualizes it

Bruce who knows when it’s getting too dirty because the small peaks of gold disappear so he starts washing it more regularly

Bruce who watches the volume come back and doesn’t hate it

Bruce who sees the rat’s nest in the morning of golden brown and random reds and even a streak of chestnut and doesn’t immediately reach for gel and a straightener anymore. Instead, he just runs a hand through it and thinks ‘to hell with it, it’s fine like this’

Bruce who gains favor from the public along with a new look, a fresher one

Bruce who becomes a familiar face on TV as the soft-spoken billionaire with the dirty blond hair that never looks right but it’s personable

Bruce who shakes hands and holds babies and hugs kids and the most compliments he gets are for his hair

Bruce who always has just a few strands of hair sticking up in the most random direction but he just swats it away (in another wild direction) and that’s that

Bruce who stops caring so much about being clean-shaven and now sports a bit of stubble because he just likes it that way

Bruce whose hair gets naturally much lighter in the summertime because he’s outside so much now and so his golden roots bleed into a rich strawberry blond

Bruce who has so many unflattering photos from the press of his hair actually looking like a rat’s nest, like seriously how does it look That Bad (Alfred thinks it’s hilarious)

Bruce who gets haircuts regularly now and always asks if they can use as little product as possible because “I don’t like when it’s sticky” but he always likes when it’s just a bit long too

Bruce who tugs on his hair, not to push it away but to fidget with it during meetings, making it even crazier

Bruce who can be recognized from the back by his crazy swirl of hair

Bruce who’s been sporting this new hair for a year now, the summer has passed and his hair is comfortably golden brown again (emphasis on the golden) and it’s bittersweet because he actually finds that he misses the striking blond streaks in July

But it’s all worth it when he notices his curls are finally coming back in the front

Bruce who looks like a completely different person than before and he’s so so happy

#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #magical hair Bruce Wayne #yes hair does change colors in the summertime #take it from a strawberry blonde who looks almost brunette in the winter #his hair possesses magical qualities #magical girl battinson #dc universe #the batman #batman 2022 #battinson needs a hug #gotham #soft bruce wayne #I said what I said #long post #alfred pennyworth

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cherryschaos · 2 months

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TIG characters as things I've said recently

Xander: Stop making fun of my eyebrow bald spot

Grayson: I forgot to take my depression meds this morning, do I have to participate

Alisa: Don't gasp like that, it makes me think something's wrong.

Jameson: I came up with this drink concoction I'm officially a genius

Gigi: Okay, but like maybe it won't diuretic more than you're already diureticing

Strawberry Blonde Sociopath #2 (E**) You win the game by being a good liar? Lying? That's like breathing for me

Max: Kylie taught me how to twerk

Libby: I'm sorry I just didn't know who else to call

Grayson: Here, you can borrow my pen. Just don't break it.

Thea: I don't like drama, I like being informed. I'm drama adjacent

Nash: Which option will let you sleep easier

Alisa: I manage phones and family, you take care of patients

Xander: Walk away from the doughnuts. Walk AWAY from the doughnuts.

Jameson: The foreshadowing in this…I can't.

Grayson: How the hell are they that stupid?

Nana: Does it count as murder if it's known they have sleep apnea?

Gigi: I need more coffee

Xander: BEHOLD! The first scribblings of the romance book I've told you my idea about

Max: This author writes smut that will really test your pokerface

Jameson: I don't want your fiance’s armpit germs on my deodorant

Avery: Your name is not a reason why your statement is correct

Alisa: And that is why you shouldn't make friends

#grayson hawthorne headcanon #grayson hawthorne needs all the hugs #i will not explain #strawberry blonde sociopath #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #the inheritance games #avery grambs #the hawthorne legacy #libby grambs #the hawthorne brothers #the inheritance games headcanon #the brothers hawthorne #nash hawthorne headcanon #jameson hawthorne head canon

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dabideku-tododeku-bakudeku-2023 · 8 months

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Aw, look at him...don't you just want to hug him? I do!

#bnha dabi #dabi #dabi mha #dabi my hero academia #dabi todoroki #mha dabi #Chibi Dabi!#Cute Kid Drinking Strawberry Milk!#Does Dabi Want A Hug?#Dabi is a Good Boy!

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rudnitskaia · 20 days

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Someone she knows just had a baby and Mau is asked if she wants to hold it, how odes she react?

follow-up question is she good with kids?

Thank you so much for the ask, @coffeintheface, it was super cute to draw! I love to dive into such cozy scenes, they soothe me, and I hope you'll feel that warmth, too. ✨💖✨

And it was the perfect opportunity to show Mau as a kid. :3 Augusto daily tried his best to braid her hair, let's praise the man, he's a pro now. x))

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strrwbrrryjam · 3 months

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"no one would have me" oh so now we're lying are we arthur

#he's so depressed n insecure i want to hug him n give him a warm blanket n sit him down by the fire so he could nap n be all warm n toasty #he's so SAD i love him so much don't be so sad bby #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #strawberry speaks

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 months

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This Reality

For @amonthofwhump's day 3 and day 4:

3: George Bailey “We’ve lost everything we have.” | Disowned Drowning | Comfort: Christmas Market

4: The Grinch Sedatives | Blackmail | Yandere Whumper | Comfort: Ugly Sweater Party

Follows on this piece exploring the AU of Chris never being rescued/running away and instead being abandoned years later on the street

CW: Drug use, drugged whumpee, references to noncon/dubcon scattered throughout

“Hey.”

A foot nudges against his side, but Baldur barely notices the pressure pushing into one rib. He’s drowning and it feels wonderful. The push of the pill through his veins keeps him languid and loose-limbed, lying on the ground with his eyes open, staring up into the watercolor sunset. He can feel the earth turning on its axis, spinning wildly in the empty universe. The pinks and reds in the clouds above him shift and change with the movement.

Everything was so loud today. There are people everywhere, crowding together for the Christmas parade. He’d taken his usual route around looking for someone who might give him a bed to sleep in if he handed over the body everyone used anyway, but instead of the usual handful he knew, there had been police officers watching with their handler-like eyes, groups of families fighting and laughing and shouting.

The Christmas market and parade. He’d forgotten about it.

His Sir had always given a speech at the parade, ridden in a float. Baldur had watched him on television each year, lying in silence on the floor, wondering if he missed his Sir or was glad for the time alone. Desperately grateful for any time at all where he wasn’t afraid.

But then he’d forgotten it would still happen, even after his Sir didn’t want him anymore.

Today had been terrifying. People everywhere and he’d had to push through them as he moved, the constant weight of their voices pressing his brain into a smaller and smaller space, bouncing around the inside of his skull.

He’d caught himself shifting his hands, trying to flap, had to stop himself - stillness is better than what I do - repeating his handler’s mantra for him in his mind over and over and over again. But if he couldn’t move, he couldn’t get the sounds out from under his skin. Everything had been crawling over him, laying against him, buzzing like bees in his ears and behind his teeth.

Then he’d run into Vamp, a runaway like him who works a corner at night and a convenience store counter during daylight. She’d seen the look on his face when he ducked inside to hold off the worst of the noise and told him to wait while she got something out of her purse. She’d even bought him a bottle of water to wash it down with.

About an hour after that, and in the hours since, everything has been soft around the edges, the noise bouncing off of him. There’s a wall between him and the rest of the world. He doesn’t even know when he got to the park, only that at some point he stopped standing upright and instead was like this. Nothing ached in his legs and arms any longer, his mind no longer buzzed with the weight of the noise.

It feels just like the mornings at home with Sir, or when he’d gone off to work for the day and left Baldur behind, dozing drugged in his bed waiting for him to come back.

He used to cry all the time, when Sir was gone, wishing he could think again. Palming the pills when he dared. Now he just wishes he could at least go back to the quiet room and the comfortable bed, to one man demanding access to him in exchange for his life, instead of many. But the pill helps.

A little.

The foot nudges him again.

“Hey, are you-... are you dead?”

Baldur manages a blink. He has to consciously tell his head to move on the stem of his neck to look to the left now and see the man leaning over him, staring down.

Vaguely familiar, with wild black curls ringing a perfectly lovely face, big warm blue eyes, dark brows a little knit together with concern. The guy who bought him breakfast a couple of weeks ago, he thinks, after they’d been the stars of the show in that house the night before. That had been fun, Baldur thinks. Maybe. Or had it not been? Skin on skin never feels good, but he’s supposed to act like it does. Sometimes he blanks out and he thinks his body has fun, then… His lips move with his thoughts, unable to separate enough not to.

The man squints. “Okay, so not dead, definitely moving and breathing, but… are you, like, OD-ing, or… what is this whole thing happening here? What am I looking at?”

“... colors,” Baldur whispers, and looks back up into the sky above him. Grass tickles the back of his neck and the palms of his hands. “Night, soon. Then we’ll see stars, stars dead… a billion years ago. Far enough… far enough away… we still see the lights. Like me. Dead but you still see me… dead, but the image… like ghosts. Like… us.”

The man’s frown deepens, but he drops into a crouch, laying a hand on Baldur’s forehead, pressing a palm to his cheeks one after the other. He closes his eyes at the touch and pushes up into it like a cat. His Sir never cared enough to check him for fevers like that. He has fuzzy memories of a woman, dark hair, smiling eyes, who would do that. Oh, sweet boy. You’re on fire, huh? The image dissolves, though, before he can hang onto it or turn the impression into a real memory. It leaves an imprint of pain behind, making him wince.

The man pulls his hand quickly away, and Baldur fights back the urge to whimper at the loss.

No one touches him anymore unless they want to fuck him about it. He’s so tired of just wanting someone to hold him and stop there.

The man sighs, shifting to sit down. “Just really fucked up, huh? I get it.” After a pause, the man lies down beside him, fingers laced together behind his head, following Baldur’s gaze to the sky. “I do that, too. What’s got you wanting to fuck off out of this reality tonight?”

Baldur doesn’t answer.

Instead, he thinks for a long, long moment of silence, and then manages, “... I forgot your name.”

“Kauri,” The man answers readily, without offense. “That’s okay. I remember you said you’re called… Baldur, right?”

“My Sir… called me that.” Baldur blinks again, his eyes shutting with a clang in his mind like garage doors before opening back up again. The thought makes him smile. “I… don’t like it much. But there… isn’t any other.”

“Oh.” Kauri thinks that over. Then asks, “What do the guys you fuck call you?”

“... baby. Sweetheart. Sexy…”

“Yeah, I guess there’s only so many nicknames in bed. Do you want to be Baldur?”

“... no.”

“Oh. Then… you can pick your own new name, if you want.”

It takes a little while for the statement to work its way in. He hears the words but they don’t really land, just sort of flit around his head for a while trying to find a place to nest. He giggles at the thought, like pretty birds with wings chirping pick your own, your own, own new name, name you.

Kauri watches him, then exhales. There’s a fond sort of smile on his face, but it isn’t the kind of smile Baldur is used to seeing, one heavy with meaning. The kind of smile that comes before a hand on his ass or moving his head down where they want it. Baldur turns his head to look back. They’re inches apart. He’s probably supposed to kiss him, now.

But the pill makes it so he remembers that he doesn’t actually want to do that. It makes him so he can just lay here, and wait to be kissed or not kissed. It’s okay. Everything is okay, like this.

“Funny to see it from the outside,” Kauri murmurs, and then moves up on his elbows. “Hey. Listen. If you could call yourself anything else - not Baldur, or your number, just like anything else that you picked and you alone… what would you choose?”

Baldur blinks again. Lets the words settle, arrange themselves into something that makes sense. Then, he closes his eyes and drifts, almost asleep instantly as soon as he shuts himself away from the vision of the sky and the way the yellow-gold fading sunlight turns the hair of the man lying next to him to some kind of glimmering brilliance. “... -ris,” He mutters, the sound coming to mind without any thought.

“What?” Kauri pokes him in the nose, making him open his eyes with another giggle to see his confusion, which only makes Baldur laugh harder. “What’d you say? Did you say Chris?”

No.

But Baldur can’t say no, can he?

No, good boys only say yes.

“Yes,” He says, and puts his hands over his mouth to try and stop his giggles from escaping. He fails, and finds himself rubbing his feet one against the other even through his shoes, rolling from side to side. He thrills at the forbidden movements, something he can only do now, when his mind isn’t in control of him any longer, when the handler’s whispered demands and punishments aren’t the loudest thing he hears.

“Oh, wow, you are gone,” Kauri says, a little enviously. “Well, damn. Man, and that was basically my plan tonight, too. That’s okay, though, nothing like playing babysitter to the world’s most beautiful park decoration for a few hours to make you appreciate sobriety, huh?”

Baldur’s laughter fades, replaced with a hazy frown. “... hours?”

“Right. Yeah. Cause the way you are right now, somebody’s going to murder you and you won’t even notice until like ten minutes after you’re dead. So I, being your self-declared fairy godmother of the evening, am going to keep an eye out and make sure this little Cinderella lives past midnight.”

Kauri pokes him in the nose again.

“Got that, Chris?”

It sounds good, actually, that name. Baldur weighs it on his tongue. He mouths it, teeth close together and then opening, tongue moving. Chris. Chris. Chris.

“Chris-... Christopher,” He sounds out, slowly, thinking of a child’s movie he barely recalls, a teddy bear. “Christopher. But Chris.”

“Right. Once you sober up, I’ll get you something to eat and then I want you to go see a friend of mine. I think you could maybe use somewhere to crash for a while, and there’s a place I go - they don’t make you do anything, there. So I go there sometimes. There’s a shower and you can eat any of their food and nobody stops you. You’ll like it. How’s that sound?”

Baldur doesn’t hear anything Kauri says. He’s too busy sounding out the name he’s chosen inside his mind. But he knows from the way Kauri’s voice lilts up at the end that he’s been asked a question. So he just says, “Okay.”

“Great. So tell me more about the stars and shine on you crazy fucked-up diamond.”

Kauri lies back beside him, the side of his arm just barely touching Baldur’s, a warm touch grounding him to the earth without climbing on top of him or shoving a hand down his pants or telling him to shove his hand down someone else’s. Baldur lets his eyes close, and breathes in the cool air.

“A lot of the stars… are already dead. But, but we… still see them. Because the light, um, of dead… of the dead stars… still travels so, so far… and it takes so long… we see them shining… and, and they’re already gone…”

“Hm. I take it back. Talk to me about something less depressing than that.”

Baldur has to think for a long time to find something that fits. Then he offers, “I met… a man over by the red diner… who carves little horses out of wood. He told me that he used to… work with wild mustangs, horses, a long… long time ago…”

“Perfect.” Kauri’s smile is brilliant, and Baldur is caught by the sight of it, staring for a long time in silence with wide eyes at the way it shines. Those blue eyes catch his, their heads turned towards each other. “Well? Keep talking.”

Baldur swallows, and then slowly nods, and tries to think of all the funny people he’s met since his Sir decided he needed replaced. He stammers, sometimes, but Kauri doesn’t seem to notice or maybe just doesn’t care.

He doesn’t hear the handler’s voice in his head, either.

Not while Kauri is looking at him. For the first time since his Sir shoved him out of the car and drove away, he feels like someone cares.

#streetkid chris au #streetkid au chris #I can't remember which tag I was using #chris the strawberry blond romantic #whump #whump oc #amow #a month of whump #drug use tw #drugged whumpee #referenced noncon #referenced dubcon #chris is hiiiiiiiiigh #he just wants a hug that doesn't go further #that's all #kauri

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sleepingcatemojis · 11 months

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hello! i don’t suppose i could trouble you for some of the plushie hugging/rocking emojis that are pink and/or cow plushies? if yes, then thank you lots!! if not, that’s fair hdhsbdbxdbx all good

here you go!

#requests #ell’s emojis #custom emojis #custom emotes #discord emojis #emotes #emoji #stim emojis #hugging emoji #hugging plush emojis #cow #pink #strawberry cow #hug emojis

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dont-hug-me-aesthetics · 7 months

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Kid Colin Aesthetic For Anon!

🧸 x x x 🧁🍬 x 🌈☀️ x x x 🧸

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smolmoss · 2 years

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Can you do cow plushie or cow little emotes? When regressed cow are my most favorite animal🐄

here u go!

different cow versions under the thingy!! (minecraft cow, moobloom, strawberry cow!)

#custom emotes #plushies #plush #stuffed animals #cow #strawberry cow #moobloom #hug #little #agere emote

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that-angry-noldo · 1 year

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Beren never heals.

He never admits it to anyone. (He hardly admits it to himself, really.) He finds a place and builds a house, a respectable, cozy house for him and Luthien to live in. He grows strawberries. He has a few horses he tends to. He's in the middle of nowhere. He's safe.

... he doesn't feel like he is.

It's the smallest things. It's the way he would stand at the door, hand on the handle of the sword, body tense and eyes prying the road to their house with anxiety. It's the way he's hyperaware of his surroundings. It's the way he knows all the escape routes by the palm of his hand. It's the way he has a bag fully packed yet never touched, sitting in the corner of the closet in the hallway.

But, well, Beren isn't dumb. He knows words "trauma" and "coping". So he doesn't dwell on it.

He tends to his strawberries. He's pretty sure he grows the best strawberries in Doriath. He also cooks, because Luthien loves his food, and he loves making Luthien happy.

Sometimes, they have guests, either from the forest or from Menegroth itself. Beren always packs them a basket of strawberries and a bag of fresh cow cheese.

(He may grow the best berries, but he's anxious about the cheese. It's too sour, sometimes.)

Sometimes those guests are his in-laws. They are... fine. Thingol is fine. He geniunly feels bad, and Beren... Beren feels bad, too. Kind of. So he invites Thingol in and makes pancakes. With strawberries. And cheese. And sour cream. It's awkward.

Sometimes, Melian shows up. Beren feels the hair on his spine rising, looking at those unhuman, unearthly eyes. She watches him tend to the animals, and Beren thinks it'll be rude, not to invite her.

Thankfully, Luthien is there. She grabs her mother and says something about tea. Beren watches them disappear.

(He remembers the look of rage and disgust on Thingol's face. He remembers the way Melian's gaze would feel as a trap, scanning every thought and every memory. He remembers wandering alone, remembers that eery feeling of being watched. Remembers the dark of Angband, remembers the halls of Mandos.

Luthien covers him with her wing. Beren feels the panic stopping.)

Beren misses his mother, and his father, and his every companion. Beren misses Finrod, and Hilie, and Nyardo with his weird stories.

He carves every face he can remember in the wood. Luthien helps him polish the figurines.

(Sometimes, Beren feels he's doing too little - when he looks at Luthien and sees her hair, her wings, her hands. She's done so much for him, how can he ever repay her? How can he ever look her in the eyes?

Those nights, Luthien holds him closer and hugs him tightly. It makes him feel better. A bit.)

He still lies awake at night, and he flinches every time a wolf howls far away. He turns his head to Luthien and hears her steady breath. It calms him down a bit.

He still can't fall asleep.

He closes his eyes and tries again.

#beren #luthien #lay of leithian #silmarillion #silm fic #tolkien #beren my beloved. i want to hug him and say it'll be alright #also yes he has a farm and animals and beehives #he gives eggs to people visiting #and grows the best strawberries possible (luthien probably magically messed with soil and seeds beforehand but shh we won't tell him right)

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