Tumgik
#THIS IS THE THING THAT SPARKS JOY
morallyambiguous · 2 years
Text
how lucky we are that, even crushed under the weight of sadness & grief, we are capable of giving love and joy to other people, and they are often more than happy to give some back.
#i think abt this alot but when i realised you don't have to be happy to bring other people joy‚ it made life so much more bearable.#for the longest time i thought happiness was something you could only spark in others if you experienced it‚ too.#i'd seen that phrase—you can't love anyone until you love yourself—and internalised it. not just with love‚ but with everything else.#i didn't feel much joy‚ love was rotted over with childhood anger & hopelessness‚ home was the body i couldn't escape from.#i didn't understand what it meant to be cared for until i was 16 & things finally started getting better.#but better just meant i didn't have an excuse anymore to be miserable‚ nothing distracting me from how i felt.#it's so easy to see people in groups‚ people laughing‚ people telling jokes & see that as your goal‚ your expected‚ your norm.#the trap 'happy people want to surround themselves w/ other happy people. they want radiant people. people for whom jokes come easy.#they don’t want someone who is always sad‚ who brings the mood down.' is an easy one to fall into. it is not true.#you can be sad‚ you can feel hopeless‚ you can feel unlovable‚ but it doesn't change the fact that you are necessary & wanted.#you do not have to be happy to spread happiness to others‚ you don't need to have to feel hopeful to inspire hope in others.#you can exist as you are & people will still love you because you are not your feelings or your perception of yourself.#i'm still learning not to see my sadness as something unforgivable i have to repent for.#but it's nice to know regardless of what im feeling i have the ability to make someone feel good‚ and what's a better feeling than that?#thank u world for making humanity so wonderful & giving. kisses#text.
20K notes · View notes
awyeahitssam · 27 days
Text
Time travel AU; Tomarry
Harry was seven the first time he appeared.
Tom arrived to him small and trembling, with bare blue fingers and toes. His teeth chattered noisily while hands worked insistently up and down his arms to generate some illusion of heat. It was a rather odd sight, considering it was thirty seven degrees outside and Harry was sweating a bit, himself. Not to mention the boy had just materialized in his supposedly secure hiding spot, without so much as a sound of warning or shimmer about the air. 
Or, you know, walking or running, because that’s how any other child got around.
Harry shook away the thought, pushing himself off the tree stump and letting shredded leaves fall from his grasp. 
The child was looking up, now, glancing around like a frightened rabbit, silver-grey eyes wide and wild. He couldn’t have been more than four years old, which wasn’t that much younger than Harry, but he wasn’t used to being around toddlers. In fact he had never been around anyone smaller than him for more than a few minutes - their parents always rushed them away, thanks to his reputation as the Dursleys' troubled nephew.  
Harry wouldn't let the boy freeze because his parents would be mad they'd spoken. Not that they would be angry at the boy, mind: it was Harry that always got into trouble for such things. He would be fine.
(And no, Harry wasn’t at all resentful. Really.)
Dilemma solved, Harry stepped forward resolutely and wrapped his arms around the trembling child. The boy stood stiff and unresponsive, tremors still wracking his form. Harry was a whole head taller than him; from this close he could see what appeared to be snow melting atop night-dark curls.
Harry blinked in surprise. He had thought the boy had been locked in a freezer, with how cold he was, but snow in July? 
Where was it cold this time of year? 
Sweden? 
Antarctica? 
Iceland? 
Did the boy even speak English? 
Harry knew that if you wished hard enough you could escape a place: after all, he had ended up across the schoolyard four days ago, on the school roof of all places! But maybe this boy had gone further? 
“All right?" Harry asked, going to pull away, but the boy suddenly began clinging to him, head pressing forward into his chest.
What did parents call their kids to comfort them? Aunt Petunia always said “Duddums,” or “Dudders,” but those were just nicknames. Maybe… 
“Uh, it’s okay, d-darling?”
The boy stilled again, sniffling once and looking up with narrowed eyes, as if he thought Harry was making fun of him. Maybe only adults called people that? Oh God, Harry had no idea what he was doing. This was his first hug, after all… 
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he tried again. “We’ll get you home, so you’ll be all right. With your, uh, parents and stuff. Don’t cry, please.”
Well, that was more begging than reassuring, probably, but Harry had no clue what he was doing here. He’d never had to comfort anyone a day in his life!
“I wasn’t crying!” The boy denied, shoving himself away from Harry fiercely even though he was still quivering and unnaturally pale. “And I don’t have any parents.”
“Oh. Okay,” Harry raised his hands defensively, ready to spring back if the boy lashed out again. When people got angry with him it rarely went well. “Um, I don’t either. Have parents, that is. And I didn’t mean to make you upset.” 
Harry wasn’t going to apologize for it. He had to do enough of that at the Dursley’s, and he had only been trying to help, besides. Still, he knew how frustrating it was when parents got brought up. The reminder that he was an orphan, trapped with the Dursley’s for a very long time to come, was far from comforting. 
“Just another orphan, then,” the boy said dismissively. Harry didn’t bother being offended, as it was the truth, though that tone was a bit... 
“I suppose,” Harry said. “You’re still cold, aren’t you? Let’s move out of the shade.” 
The boy squinted at him suspiciously, but nonetheless followed when Harry led the way to a nearby rock and gently pressed him to sit on it. He kneeled on the dead, brown grass and eyed blue fingers and bare toes worriedly.
“That’s not good,” he whispered. Harry reached out to the other boy slowly, as though he were a wild animal, and the child jerked away.
“What are you doing?”
“They’re blue,” Harry frowned. “Just - let me -” 
Harry took the boy's hands in his own and brought them to his mouth, breathing hot air onto them. The boy made a mildly disgusted sound and made to move back, but Harry held tight, rubbing to create heat through friction. 
He felt gross and sweaty, and frankly the cool of the boy’s hands was a relief on such a day, but mostly he was worried. He knew, vaguely, of hypothermia, and he didn't want the boy’s fingers to fall off.  
The boy glared at Harry, but didn't try to pull away again, though he watched his every movement rather suspiciously. That wasn't anything new to Harry, of course. Everybody found him suspicious. 
“Where am I?” The child demanded, after a long period of silence in which they were essentially holding hands. 
“We’re at a park in Little Whinging, Surrey.” 
“Surrey? I was just in London…”
Harry frowned back. “Are you sure? It's not snowing in London.”
“It was five minutes ago,” the boy said firmly, crossing his arms. 
“In July?” Harry murmured, incredulous. 
“I'm not lying,” the boy said coolly, though the effect of his glare was somewhat ruined by the shivers still wracking his body. “And it's February, besides.”
“I didn't say you were lying,” Harry huffed. “Just that you’re wrong. It's July 30th.”
The boy frowned, glancing from the sun high in the sky to the brown grass. He seemed at a loss, eyes flitting around as if trying to find something to refute Harry’s claim.
Harry watched him, considering. 
“My name is Harry,” he said. “What’s yours?”
The boy blinked at him. “Tom,” he said. “Tom Riddle.”
...
Harry was in the astronomy tower, legs dangling over the edge, eyes looking towards the ground. His companion arrived as suddenly as always, the only announcement of his presence the prickling at Harry’s neck.
“...Harry?” 
He turned with a tired smile, faltering only slightly when he noted what Tom was wearing. A slightly oversized version of the Hogwarts uniform hung over his small frame, a silver and green tie smoothed on his neck. 
“What’s wrong, love?” Harry asked, falling to his knees beside the bright-eyed boy. Tom wasn’t crying, but his eyes were burning with something like anger and loneliness and despair. It took Harry a moment, but when he caught sight of the bruise marring Tom’s face he felt his breath catch in his chest.
“You—who—how dare—!” Harry couldn’t seem to bring himself to coherence, so instead he shut his mouth and carefully tilted Tom’s chin to get a better look at the mark. It was large, spanning from his right cheekbone to eyebrow: a mottled, puce discoloration that never should have touched on Tom’s strong features. 
Tom allowed Harry to maneuver him without complaint, eyes wide and hungry as they took him in.
“Even at Hogwarts,” the younger boy murmured, smaller hand reaching out, brushing against Harry’s cheek. 
Harry couldn’t help the soft look that overcame him, despite the anger boiling, wrathful, in his gut at the sight of Tom’s injury. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I’d rather not go ten months without seeing you, Tom.” 
Though truly it hadn’t been so long for Harry. After all, hadn’t he seen Lord Voldemort rise only a few months ago?
But no. This was Tom, his first friend, the first person he’d thought to protect, not a single trace of serpent in his visage.
This was Tom, with one of his eyes half swollen shut.
Harry didn’t know any healing charms, but he had taken to carrying around the salve Hermione made for his hand. He unscrewed the lid and gathered more than was probably necessary, the goop thick on his fingers. 
“Stay still for me, okay?” 
Tom tilted his head, not wary but measuring, and Harry held his gaze until the boy’s shoulders loosened and he nodded.
Once upon a time, Lord Voldemort had been capable of trust. Theoretically it was a hard thing to grasp, but in practice it just made something in Harry’s chest melt.
Harry massaged the salve in gently, careful not to get too close to Tom’s eye. He was nearly done by the time Tom gasped, jerking away.
It must have started tingling.
“That’s…” 
“Strange?” Harry smiled at him. “Yeah. Hold still, you’ll need a bit more to help with the swelling.” 
“Why do you have this?” Tom asked, even as he obediently shut his eyes and swayed forward. “Have you been getting into fights, Harry?” 
How strange, the way Tom said his name now, compared to the way he would one day, in a dark, dreary graveyard.
Harry laughed off the comparison, laughed so he didn’t retreat back to misery, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Tom’s forehead. To the place that he would one day mark Harry.
“Always,” he smirked, pulling back to catch sight of Tom’s wide-eyed look. He screwed the lid back on the salve, wiping his fingers on his robe and slipping it back into his pocket. “Now, are you just going to sit there gaping all night, or would you like to learn how to defend yourself with magic?” 
Tom opened his mouth, probably in protest against that gaping remark, but closed it before saying anything and nodding his assent.
Harry drew his wand, a wand Tom had only seen a handful of times, and he couldn’t help the way his muscles tensed. Harry didn’t mention it.
“Protego,” he enunciated, making the motion with his wand a bit slower than he might otherwise.
“That’s a fifth year spell,” Tom pointed out.
“One that you’ll master,” Harry agreed cheerily. “Unless you want to be tickled to death.” 
It would have been more logical to use some sort of pain as motivation - such as a stinging hex - but Harry, Tom knew, did not want to hurt him. Still, he could deal with pain. Given his age, Harry was expected to be stronger than him, to be able to harm him. And to Tom, it would be far more humiliating to be reduced to helpless giggles.
Harry knew him too well, to play on his pride like this.
Tom found he didn’t mind
It took time, but Tom did manage to conjure the shield charm. 
Only when Harry flicked his wand the spell broke through, and Tom fell to the ground in peels of laughter. Harry held the enchantment for a long moment, watching grey eyes come alive with mirth, small body wriggling, before he waved his wand in a silent counter.
“Don’t rely on your shield alone,” Harry instructed. “You may be strong, but you’re still a first year, which means somebody else is stronger.” 
As if he needed the reminder, Tom mused bitterly, hand jerking a bit as he fought the urge to prod at his tingling bruise. Harry didn’t mention his short, derisive laugh. 
“What did you do when somebody tried to hit you at the orphanage? Dodged. It doesn’t matter that you have a wand, and spells; those aren’t the only tools available to you. You have a body - use it!”
In a way Tom appreciated the way Harry never sugarcoated anything. On the other hand, mere mention of the orphanage infuriated him. If not for the fact that Harry had been bullied himself, Tom might have held a grudge. As it was he knew Harry understood him, and what he went through. Knew that he was only mentioning that rotten place to draw a comparison and not degrade him. 
He didn’t get impatient when Tom’s second attempt failed, or his third and fourth, nor did he relent in his assault. He was strangely inspirational, Tom thought. He was encouraging, but had high expectations, and he seemed used to teaching. His patience went far further than Tom’s own extended, and he had no trouble explaining things a different way when his words didn’t click for Tom. 
But then, Tom almost instinctively knew what Harry meant. They were connected, in some odd, impossible way. 
Tom’s cheeks had burned in embarrassment when he discovered that there was no such thing as soulmates, even in the magical world. He had been so sure.
“You’ve gone pale.”
Tom looked down to his fading fingers with a scowl. 
“I want to spend more than a measly two hours with you,” he said, gripping the front of Harry’s robes as though it would prevent their time from coming to an end. 
“I know, darling,” Harry murmured, running a hand through his night-dark curls. “Just remember that I'm very proud of you, all right? I care for you, and that accounts for the decades we have to spend apart.”
“Harry, have I found you yet?” Tom whispers. The question hangs in the darkness, but before Harry can formulate a response Tom vanishes from his arms. 
“Hello darling,” Harry smiles, rather taken with the blush that lights Tom’s nose and the tips of his ears. “When are we?”
“31st of December, 1940.”
“Happy birthday, then. How does it feel to be fourteen?”
“No different than thirteen, I’d imagine,” Tom replies. 
“No?” Harry’s eyes glint wickedly. “Let’s see if we can’t brighten your day. Have you ever been ice skating, Tom?”
Tom blinked at him, eyebrows pulling together. “No,” he responds. “Have you?”
“Oh, absolutely not.” Something in Tom thrills at the reckless grin Harry levels him with. “We can try together, yeah? The Black Lake should be frozen over, and I know a few spells if not. The grounds should be abandoned at this time, especially considering it’s break.”
Tom stares incredulously for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “It’s past curfew, Harry. Even if it’s a holiday, I can’t be caught outside and still be chosen as a prefect next year.”
“Let’s not get caught, then,” Harry says softly, eyes sparking. 
Tom takes him in for a moment, and lets out a long sigh - mostly for show, mind you. Being cooped up in the Common Room, staring out at the Black Lake was hardly what Tom wished to be doing, regardless of the days. “Only you, Harry Potter, could talk me into doing such a thing. You’d better be practised with cushioning charms.”
A warm hand comes to grip Tom’s, pulling him towards the door. “We won’t need them,” Harry says, sounding rather assured. “You’re ridiculously graceful, so I expect you to catch me if I start to fall.” 
Harry, it turns out, is far better at keeping his balance on the slick surface. But the older boy takes both of his hands, slowly skidding backwards, balancing him so he won’t fall. And Tom is sure that when he does, he takes Harry with him.
Tom is standing on the balcony. Harry looks him over, absently checking for injuries. 
“You look posh,” he says, surprised. The last time he had seen Tom, he was still in second hand robes, though judging by his appearance it had been nearly a year - or an abrupt growth spurt. 
“Harry,” Tom breathes out, and all of the irritation in his posture and face smooth out as he turns and catches sight of him. Something like excitement brightens the air around him, and he reaches out, catching Harry’s sleeve and drawing him close. “You’re really here.”
“I am,” Harry smiles. “Have I kept you waiting?”
“Rather,” Tom sniffs. “It’s been nearly a year. You’ve chosen a rather poor venu, though; the Malfoy’s annual Yule Ball.”
“Oh,” Harry frowned. “I suppose you’ll need to get inside and schmooze with the purebloods.” 
“That is the point in me attending,” Tom agreed lightly. “But the ball is already halfway over, and I’ve met plenty of important people already. You could join me for a dance…” 
“Inside?” Harry asked, surprised. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tom… if anybody but you sees me, I’m afraid of what’ll happen.”
“The music’s loud enough,” Tom offers. There’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, Harry notes. A very rare thing, for Tom is most always sure of himself. “We can dance here.” 
Harry smiles, drawing Tom’s hand into his own. “All right, but don’t be mad if I step on your toes. You’ve asked for it.”
Tom’s eyes glint. A smirk curls his lips. “Oh my,” he says, stepping close as one hand finds Harry’s waist and the other intertwines their fingers. “Have we found something I’m better at?” 
Harry snorted. “You’re better at loads,” he said, stumbling a step back when Tom begins their dance. “I’ve got nearly three years on you at the moment, and I’m positive your spell knowledge well exceeds mine.”
Tom quirks a brow. “Perhaps if you studied more?”
Harry smiled. “I started studying seriously in my Fourth year. You, however, have been at it from your First.”
“Shall we duel?”
“I’d rather we never cross wands,” Harry says lightly, but his eyes have gone dark. He grips Tom a bit tighter, posture straightening. Tom’s nearly a head shorter, like this. “This is hard to do backwards.”
“Then lead.”
Tom’s words had been half-teasing, but when Harry takes control of the dance things smooth out rather quickly. He’s clearly at least practiced in this part, and twirls Tom around the balcony without much trouble.
“There you are,” Tom says into his neck, “No more stepping on me.” 
Harry huffs a laugh, one hand rising from Tom’s waist to brush through his hair. The motion is soothing, half-remembered from the last time Tom had a fever. He leans deeper into Harry. He would join them together if he could; make them intrinsic, never able to be torn apart, not even by time. 
“I miss you,” Tom admits, like it’s a dark secret. “When you’re gone, I miss you, Harry. I’ve never missed anybody else.” 
Harry’s throat tightens. His hand continues its careful strokes, and they’ve stilled in their dancing. They sway in place.
“I wish we could be like this forever,” Harry says in turn, secret traded for secret. 
Tom makes a noise in his throat, something almost needy, and clings harder, nails digging into Harry’s robe. “Don’t leave,” he demands. “Stop leaving me.” 
Harry sighs. “I can’t,” he says. “You know I can’t, Tom.”
Tom pulls back, meeting his eyes. His face is flushed from the cold, eyes gleaming with a fierce longing. Something in Harry aches in answer.
“Let’s sit,” Harry says softly. “The sky is beautiful here.”
Tom nods, but hardly lets them pull apart. They sit, limbs tangling, but instead of staring at the stars Tom stares at Harry. Harry pretends not to notice.
An hour later, only the lingering warmth of Tom’s palm proves he was ever there at all.
The next time Tom appears it’s in Harry’s time. The situation is less than ideal; it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and there's an attack.
But Tom does not know the context. All he knows when he appears is that Harry is flushed, breathing hard, back pressed against a building. And Tom does not freeze like Harry sometimes does at the abrupt displacement, but strides towards Harry with a familiar determination.
It’s the look Lord Voldemort gets when he’s decided to kill Harry.
But instead, Tom presses him tighter against the building. Searches his face. And then he pushes their mouths together, lips moving insistently against Harry’s own, almost desperate to provoke a reaction. 
Apparently deciding to kiss and kill Harry inspires the same look.
There’s a moment when Harry wants, but then he pulls away, the rejection gentled by the way he cradles Tom’s cheek. 
“Tom, I -”
Harry's eyes flick up from Tom’s, catching a movement,  and his hands drop as though burned. He’s quick to grab Tom by the hips and switch their positions, putting his body between Tom and Voldemort as he took in the tall, serpentine Lord. 
Voldemort’s smile was a cruel, mirthless thing. “Playing house with one of my horcruxes, Harry? How… unexpected.”
Harry swallowed. So Voldemort didn’t know, then -  he didn’t remember, though Harry had figured as much. 
“Tom, stay behind me and avoid his eyes.” 
“Harry, who—”
“Please, Tom!”
Tom stepped back, but he didn’t move quickly enough to avoid a bolt of purple light.
‘Bugger,’ Harry thought, body jerking in front of Tom instinctively, taking the hit. 
The spell has no evident effect beyond freezing him in place, and a strongly thought Finite Incantatum saw him free. Still, Harry did not shift; he would use any advantage he could get, and Voldemort thinking him helpless was certainly an advantage.
“What shall I do with you now, Harry?” Voldemort hissed, a demented smile pulling his lips up. 
“Avada Ked—“
“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried. Tom’s wand flew from his hand, smacking Harry’s palm. Well, so much for that plan. “Expelliarmus!”
“Crucio.”
The spells slammed together and the magic splintered, the wand's magic dying as it recognized it was being turned against itself. 
Voldemort’s eyes burned. “How do you have that wand?”
Harry watched him carefully, backing up until his hip pressed against Tom. He pressed the yew wand into warm hands, not daring to take his eyes off Voldemort to see his expression. 
Tom inhaled sharply, and he was too clever to not connect the dots. When he spoke his voice was torn between horror and fury. “There’s no way.”
“You need to go,” Harry hissed back. “Now.” 
“We haven’t exactly figured out how to control it—”
“Tom,” Harry snapped. The other teen quieted, and Harry heard fabric shift. “Repeat after me: lapsu temporis corrigi posse.”
“Harry—”
“Do you want to die?” 
There was a long pause. A hand pressed over Harry’s spine, almost too hard to be a comfort. 
“Lapsu temporis corrigi posse.”
The air shifted, and the warm pressure of spindly fingers against Harry’s back melted away. 
Harry and Voldemort stared each other down from across a field.
“It seems,” Voldemort hissed, “we have much to discuss, Harry.”
278 notes · View notes
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Gearing up for the stat boosts
MDZS Disco Elysium AU Part 3 (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4)
481 notes · View notes
Text
Yellow Light
Bayverse!Raph x reader
Inspired by the song Inventor's Daughter by the Branches. No TWs apply.
“I triple dog dare you, bro.”
The dare would've been enough, but Mikey’s shit-eating grin and goading tone pushed Raph over the edge. “You're on.” He growls out.
“This is a bad idea.” Leonardo's low voice warns his hot-headed brother.
Raphael knows he can leap the alleyway easily. He's pretty sure he can perform a triple flip in the process. Sure enough that he's going to give it a go, to prove Leo's doubt in him wrong anyway. Per Mikey's dare, he's only allotted one step to perform the triple flip jump. He places his sais in his hands so they can't fall from their position at his hip, backs up the singular step he's allowed, and goes for it. His body curls in on itself, hard, carrying him through the momentum of the first two flips. For a moment, he isn't sure he'll make the third, and his arms move to aid him in his final rotation as a mild panic sets in.
Maybe Leo was right.
When his sai falls from his grip, clattering loudly to the ground of the alleyway below, Raphael’s gut sinks. Of course. Just after he sticks the landing and proves Leo wrong. He should have known it would fall into the light of the only streetlamp nearby, too. Quickly, he drops into the shadows below and sneaks forward, hoping beyond hope that he could retrieve his weapon and return to the relative safety of the shadowed rooftop with only a mid-length lecture from Leonardo rather than an hours-long scolding.
Of course, he would have no such luck.
The sound of metal clattering against the hard concrete of the alleyway as you and your date for the evening walked past. Pausing, curiosity and concern mixed in your gut as your eyes sought the source of the sound. There, on the ground in the pool of yellow light, was a strange weapon. Stepping forward to the edge of the streetlamp’s light, your hand reaches for the item. A small sound draws your attention as your fingers grap the hilt of the weapon, and your eyes drift upwards towards the source of the sound. What you see there takes a moment to process.
Standing there stock still under your gaze, Raphael mentally chides himself for such a rookie mistake. He expects a scream, expects to see fear or hatred or revulsion when your eyes fall upon him.
The fact that it never comes, that your wide eyes are filled only with curiosity has him stunned. This is uncharted territory.
It's that same surprise that lets your date land one, solid hit to his jaw and send him reeling. Distantly, he hears the insult your date throws at him.
“Get away from her, you monster!” Your date spits at him.
Ah. There it is, Raphael thinks to himself. The familiar sting of rejection.
Your date scoops you up and ushers you away from the alley. Curious eyes stay on Raphael's form until you are out of view, leaving him to process what just happened.
None of that had gone as he had anticipated. Raphael couldn't get the way you'd looked at him out of his head. His hand rises to rub at the sore spot on his jaw as he moves to sit up on the hard concrete. A mixture of shame and awe roiled in his gut - shame that your date had managed to get the upper hand, awe that someone as soft and beautiful as you had looked at him with anything other than revulsion. Disappointment fills his chest as he realizes he'll likely never see you again.
The sound of one of his brother’s quiet footsteps approaching drives the dagger of shame further into his gut. Bracing himself for the impending lecture that is sure to come, he brings back the walls he'd worked so hard to build over the years that you had seemed to crack with one simple glance. Yet again, he had failed to measure up and had let his brothers down. Self-pity and regret swirled around the shame in his gut, making him nauseous. Leonardo's condescending voice as he would surely deliver a thorough scolding was the last thing he needed - or, worse, Mikey looking at him as if he were a disappointment.
Instead of the condescension he was expecting, your quiet voice sounded from the mouth of the alleyway.
“Are you alright?” The softness in your voice as you speak startles him, and he looks up at you with wide eyes.
Yellow light from the streetlamp above frames your silhouette and his eyes grow wider with every step you take towards him. Your voice is quiet and soft when you speak, as if you were scared of frightening him off like some kind of injured animal. Maybe he is some kind of injured animal to you, he thinks with a twinge of bitterness. Then you're there in his space, kneeling in front of him as the streetlamp's yellow light shines like a halo behind your beautiful face. Your eyes are kind, concerned. Raphael struggles to process that the concern in your eyes could even remotely be for him. Tentative hands reach out and wipe the blood from his lip, stroking carefully along the quickly forming bruise on his jaw. Unconsciously, unintentionally, Raphael finds himself leaning ever so slightly into your soft touch. If you had cracked his walls earlier, surely now you were crumbling them to dust.
Finally he responds in a deep, gravely Brooklyn accent. “I’ve had worse.” He says to you, sounding a little like he can't believe any of this is happening.
“I'm sorry.” Your apology sends him reeling all over again. You were apologizing to him for your date defending you against a monster in the dark? Surely, he must have taken a harder hit to the head than he'd thought. Maybe he'd cracked his skull on the pavement when he'd went down and this was all a very pleasant, very not real dream.
Your hands retreat from his face, and Raphael struggles not to follow - not to seek out more of your gentle touch. No one had ever touched him that way before, and he thinks for a moment that he may die before anyone else ever touches him like that again. Your eyes drop from his gaze to your hand. Raphael notices now that you have something wrapped there in your pretty scarf, held close to your chest as if it were something precious. Slowly untangling your scarf from where you'd hastily wrapped it up, you reveal his now forgotten sai. He looks up at your face, sure that you would take this moment to drive it into his heart. Too stunned still by your actions, his body was too slow to catch up with this feeling of impending doom. Your eyes raise to meet his, and you extend the sai towards him.
The strike he's expecting never comes, instead feeling a much different kind of pierce to his heart as he realizes that you are handing it back to him. Somewhere in his gut, he knows it - knows that this should not be happening. You should not be here. You should be afraid. Everyone was always afraid. The cries of ‘monster’ ring fresh in his ears as if it were only moments ago he'd heard them. You should be running as far and as fast as you could, not kneeling in front of him as if you were the one liable to spook him away.
You certainly should not be handing him a weapon.
And yet. You had managed to subvert his every expectation so far. Carefully, he reaches to take his sai from your hand. A jolt of something electric runs through the both of you as his fingers brush against your own for the briefest of seconds as he takes back his weapon.
Your eyes never leave his face. After a long moment, you realize you've been staring at him for a little too long. Clearing your throat as a blush creeps across your face, you glance at the cut on his face. It's bleeding again.
“Does it hurt?” You ask him, voice soft with compassion.
It takes a moment for Raphael to process what you mean, having forgotten the ache in his jaw after staring into your beautiful eyes for so long.
“It's fine.” He grunts out, scrambling to hoist his walls back up lest he fall hopelessly in love with a woman he'd only just met.
Raising your hands to his face again, you cup the uninjured side of his jaw and dab gently at the wound in his face with your scarf. Raphael moves to bat you away.
“You're going to get your pretty scarf ruined.” He complains half-heartedly. His body is quick to betray him, though, as he leans subconsciously into the gentle caress of your hand on his jaw.
A small smile graces your lips. “Don't worry about it.” Your voice is a whisper now, and your face is close enough that he can feel your breath on his skin. His eyes widen once more, pupils blowing wide at the casual, gentle intimacy of it all. “Hold this here.” You instruct him, and his hand goes to hold your scarf to his face obediently. Surprisingly, your other hand stays on his jaw. He chides himself for being so easy for you. It was so unlike him. Raphael, who never trusted anyone, falling head over heels for a woman he's barely spoken to - for a woman who was on a date with someone else who had punched him in the face - because she was nicer than average? If he wasn't feeling so disoriented by your kindness, he would have scoffed at the ludicrousness of it.
Raphael's face looks up when he hears the quiet sound of Leo shifting on the fire escape above them, an intentional signal for Raphael to cut this little moment with you short. He shifts away from your hand, and it feels as if he were throwing himself into traffic. All he wants is to lean back into your touch, but he moves to stand nonetheless.
“Uhh. Thanks.” He tells you awkwardly in a new, gruffer tone than he'd used before. Had Leo seen his weakness? Seen how soft you'd made him in such a short time? He couldn't run the risk, had to shut you out before he fell head over heels and let his big brother down again. Raphael was supposed to be the protector, the one who was always suspicious of outsiders and kept everyone at arm's length to keep his family safe. “I gotta get going.” Reaching his hand out, he ungraciously offers your scarf back to you. “Here, you should have this back.”
That soft small returns to your face as you shake your head and curl your fingers over his, closing his hand around the scarf. “It's yours now.” Your blush deepens as you look at him. You know the moment has passed, he's already closed ranks and shut you out again, and you can't help but feel disappointed. There was almost something there between you, you were sure of it. Hiding your disappointment behind your smile, you meet his gaze. “Something to remember me by.”
Just like that, you were backing out of the alleyway. Your eyes stay trained on his massive form as you make your retreat until you can no longer make him out in the darkness. The rest of your walk home is lonely, if not uneventful.
Little do you know, four brothers keep watch over you from the rooftops, making sure you get home safe. Once you enter your apartment and lock the door behind you, Leonardo delivers the order to cut patrol short tonight and head home. Along the way, Raphael manages to mostly tune out the fearless leader’s scolding lecture as he thinks instead about the way you had approached him without fear, compassion in your eyes. The fact that you had left your date in order to return and check on him hadn't been lost on him. Finally, when they return to the lair, he retreats from Leonardo’s condescending monologue and closes himself away in his room to finally be alone and process what had happened. Removing his gear, he collapses on his mattress and lets go of the weight of Leonardo's disappointment and Michelangelo’s teasing comments.
Curled up there in his bed, finally alone, he opens his tightly fisted hand to reveal the pretty scarf he'd hidden there. Raising it nervously to his face, he leans in and inhales your scent deeply as he revels in the memory of your hand on his skin. The way you had touched him with such ease - without reservation.
Maybe dropping that sai was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
I forgot who all was on my tag list so I'm dropping who I can recall. If you'd like to be added please let me know!
@yorshie @luckycharms1701 @turtlecleric @thelaundrybitch @avery73 @thejudiciousneurotic
182 notes · View notes
cookiescribble · 17 days
Text
I’m The Only One Who Touches You
Tumblr media
A/N: This one kinda got away from me, ngl 😅 I’ve been sitting on it for a while. enjoy anyway, though! sorry we've kinda been on hiatus <3 - Mod Ghost
Summary: You and Spencer had decided some quality time with the team could do you both some good, but some jerk has other ideas
TW: sexual harassment, alcohol/drinking, pre-T/ top or bottom surgery body, misgendering
After some discussion between us and the team, Spencer and I agreed to go out that night with the rest of the team to a bar that Rossi wanted to show us.
“Do we really have to go? I…I really don’t want to be inside of a bar tonight, let alone at all,” Spence asked softly, coming up behind me as I brushed my teeth and wrapped his arms around my waist as he dropped his head on top of mine. He looked into my eyes in the mirror, and I could see the puppy dog pout that he had on.
“We already agreed to go, and we won’t have to be there for long. Just enough to say hello and make it seem like we’re personable people.” I spit into the sink then turn around in his arms to hug him back as I speak, rubbing his back. “Plus, if it gets really bad, we can have a secret signal. Just for you to say ‘hey, I hate it here, let’s leave please.’ Okay? While we’re there, you can just tap my elbow three times. Like this.” I reach around and tap his elbow three times to show him then he nods.
“Okay, you’re right. Let’s head out then, the rest of the team should either already be there or will be there soon.” Spence chuckled softly, taking my hand and leading me out of the bathroom then out of the apartment.
Once we got there, Spencer seemed to be a bit more at ease, comfortable in his own skin. He was talking with JJ and Garcia as I was getting some more drinks, soda for Spence and myself while the girls were getting alcohol.
“Another of whatever this pretty lady is getting for me, please.” A man spoke up from next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.
The bartender went about making all the drinks as I looked at this mystery man. He was taller than me and was looking at me with a rather smug face.
“I’m not sure who you think you’re talking to, or why you’d want four drinks for yourself.” I tried to move his hand off my shoulder but he kept it there, which made my discomfort levels skyrocket. I looked around for Spencer but couldn’t see him, which is when this guy finally moved his hand, but he grabbed my chin instead of keeping it away as if he was trying to get my attention back.
“You bought four drinks, huh? Someone’s got a bit of an alcohol problem,” he said with a cocky sneer, leaning in closer so I could smell all the alcohol he’d been drinking.
“You have about 5 seconds to get off me before I make you,” I threatened, trying to pull away from him which only made him yank me closer with his hand trailing down my side. “Hey—“
All I felt was this guy suddenly getting dragged off of me and before I knew what was happening, he was pinned down against the bar.
“When my boyfriend tells you something, you listen. Do you understand me?” The man holding this guy down, who I quickly realized was Spence, growled close to this asshole’s ear. It made him nod nervously. “Good. Now, get the fuck out of here.”
The mystery pervert was up and out of sight before either of us could say anything else, which was when Spencer turned to face me. His entire demeanor changed now, his expression soft as he reached out to me.
“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Before he could even finish his sentence, I was burying myself in his arms. “Hey, what happened?? What did he do that I didn’t see?”
“Nothing, Spence, I promise. I’m just…really glad you showed up..” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. He rubbed my back slowly as he hugged me tight.
“Alright, it’s okay. I’m going to take you home, let’s go tell the others we’re leaving and then we’ll be out of here,” he whispered back as he leaned in close to my ear, leading me back over to where everyone was standing to politely tell them we were leaving.
“Hey, we’re uh, we’re gonna head home,” Spencer announced, his arm tightly wrapped around my shoulders.
“Aw, already?” Complained Penelope, but then I assumed she saw the look on my face because I saw her demeanor turn concerned. “What happened? Are you two okay?”
“We’re fine, I’m just tired. We’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He didn’t wait for anyone else to say anything before leading me away as I waved meekly. 
We were in a taxi on the way home but I felt detached and out of it. I kept thinking about what could’ve happened if Spencer hadn’t been there when he was. 
“I didn’t lie to Penelope for you, did I?” he joked, gently nudging me to bring me out of my thoughts with a soft tone to his voice and a gentle smile on his face. 
“No, I would never make you do that. I’m okay, just like I said earlier,” I promised, but it didn’t seem to ease his suspicions any.
After getting out of the car, we were heading up to his apartment, his arm around me the whole way until we got to his door where he let go to let us inside. 
I stood behind him, an arm wrapped around myself and looking around the hallway on either side until I heard the telltale sound of the lock clicking open then took his hand that he extended to me. He pulled me through the threshold and then turned around to close the door behind us while I simply stood there.
Spence could tell I was feeling off, but I couldn’t do much about it. My mind couldn’t help taking me through what the worst case scenario would’ve been.
“Hey,” he murmured lovingly, leaning in close enough that I could feel him behind me without him actually touching me, “I don’t care what ‘men’ try to pick you up, I’ll always be the man taking you home,” he mumbled in my ear, just low enough to send shivers down my spine as he pulled me in until I was pressed against his chest and gently tilted my head so he could make eye contact with me, “Okay?”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off of his. 
“Good. Now, c’mon, let’s take a shower and stop thinking about this.” 
“How’d you know I was—“
Spencer simply looked at me with a raised eyebrow, as if he was asking whether or not I was serious.
“…never mind.”
“That’s what I thought. Come with me.” He took my hand, holding it firmly but gently as he led me into the bathroom. “Start the water, I’m gonna grab some clothes and towels for us.” He kissed the back of my head with his hands gently resting on my shoulders before leaving the room. I did as told, though, leaning down to start up the water and making sure the temperature was okay. 
As I was about to get up, I heard him come back into the bathroom, closing the door and coming up behind me. I felt the warmth of his body before his hands slid over my hips, pulling me up to stand and turning me around to face him. 
“Do you want me in here with you? I can start up some food if–” He stopped mid-sentence when I grabbed his wrist, nonverbally signaling that I didn’t want him to leave me, “--okay, don’t worry…I’m right here and I’m going to keep you safe now.” 
Adjusting so he was holding my hand instead, he then leaned down to kiss my forehead before leaning his head against mine. “Is it okay if I take your shirt off for you?” His voice was soft as it broke the silence, barely even there, which made it all the more comforting. 
I nodded again, but he didn’t move, so I got the sense he wanted verbal consent.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I mumbled back, and he kissed my cheek before he gently started tugging my shirt up and over my head. 
He paused with his hands hovering over the waistband of my jeans, glancing at me as if he was asking me again. 
“That’s uh, that’s okay, too. Jeans and..and just all of it, go ahead.” I smiled at him shyly, admiring how sweet he was to continually make sure I was okay with what was going on. 
Spence smiled at me then continued to undress me, unable to stop himself from looking at me for a moment before turning me around to gently push me into the shower and getting undressed himself so he could join me. I waited patiently for him, letting the water run through my hair and closing my eyes as I felt my muscles relax under the spray while my mind wandered.
It felt a bit odd that I didn’t want Spencer to stop touching me, as if his soft and gentle touch could somehow erase the terror of what could’ve happened to me but didn’t. That it could save me from feeling that man’s hand roughly grabbing my chin and almost forcing me into things I didn’t want. His gentle kisses and soft caresses were all I wanted, and it seemed he was more than willing to give me that.
I hadn’t noticed that Spence had stepped into the shower until I opened my eyes and he was standing in front of me, pouring soap into his hand. His eyes flicked over to meet mine once he realized I was looking at him, giving me a gentle smile.
“Are you still with me over there?” His tone of voice hadn’t changed from that same tender cadence, taking a small step closer to me until I could feel his breath ghosting over my skin. It was moments like this that made me realize just how tall he was. 
“Yeah, I’m right here…hi.” I waved up at him which made us both giggle.
“That’s okay, just checking, sweetheart.” Spence kissed the top of my head, rubbing the soap into both of his hands then he gently started to rub his hands over my shoulders. I leaned forward until my head was pressed against his chest as he ran his hands over my body, gently kissing the top of my head again then leaving a trail of kisses on my face and along my neck. 
I stood up straight again when he had to bend down further, blushing as I felt his hands massage over my legs and up my thighs. 
I slid my hand into his hair, gently playing with it as he left a kiss lower on my stomach and the warm water rained down over me. 
“S-Spence, I…” I trailed off, distracted by him leaving kisses and marks over my body.
“Hmm…?” he stopped, looking up at me. “Are you okay?” He sat back on his knees, looking up at me while holding both of my thighs.
I slid my hand into his hair, gently playing with it as he left a kiss lower on my stomach and the warm water rained down over me. 
“S-Spence, I…” I trailed off, distracted by him leaving kisses and marks over my body.
“Hmm…?” he stopped, looking up at me. “Are you okay?” He sat back on his knees, looking up at me while holding both of my thighs. 
“Mmhmm…I’ve just...I’ve never done this before, and everything that happened tonight, I just…I didn’t think it affected me because he only grabbed at me, but…”
“Stop,” he stood up, wrapping his arms around me with his hands on my lower back so he could pull me closer to him. “It’s alright that what happened affected you, any kind of unwanted touch is a very disorienting thing. Especially if you’ve never been touched like that. We don’t have to do anything unless you’re comfortable.” His voice was more serious than before, and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but nod to show that I understood. “Are you still comfortable with this? Because it’s completely alright to have changed your mind. Just tell me, darling. I’m smart but I’m not a mind reader,” he joked, gently tugging me closer to him until I was almost pressed up against him. 
“Yes…Yeah, I’m still comfortable with this. I think I just needed a minute.” I speak only loud enough to be heard over the water. 
He nods and presses his lips to my cheek before he kneels in front of me again, marking his path with kisses down my stomach back toward where he was before I stopped him, sucking and gently biting at my skin along the way. 
As he got lower and lower, he shifted to loop his arms around my knees, pulling me even closer as he got ever closer to exactly where I wanted–no, needed him to be. I could feel his breathing getting heavier, each breath washing over me between each kiss. 
I slid both of my hands into his hair, gently gripping random fistfuls of it as I moaned lowly and tilted my head back. I felt him chuckle more than I heard it as his head found its way between my legs. 
Soon enough, his tongue glided smoothly in circles over my skin as I gasped and groaned, my grip tightening on his hair and almost pulling with each motion as any thought of getting cleaned up was abandoned. God, if I had known this was where I was going to be before I left the house with him, I wouldn’t have wanted us to leave either. 
Spencer eventually came up for air ever so briefly before he was back to kissing all over my body, marking my skin wherever he could without seeming to care where, like he was claiming every inch of me. Little did he know, all he’d have to do was say ‘please’ in the softest tone of voice he could muster and I’d be on my knees for him. Or worse, he knew and he was more than willing to take advantage of that fact. Not that I minded, per say. 
He slowly made his way back up to my lips, kissing every possible spot on my body that he could so I’d be littered in hickeys and would feel them as a constant reminder of this moment. Of him. 
I tugged on his hair lightly until he was on his feet, my arms going around his neck as I pulled him into a deep kiss with my lips parting against his as he pulled me in closer until our bodies were all but pressed together. 
Feeling him this close to me sent a shiver down my spine.
He finished washing me off, getting out and wrapping a towel around himself before he held out his hand to help me out of the shower. He wrapped the other towel around me and helped me dry off, getting me dressed in a white and gray hoodie of his that said Washington DC and a pair of his pajama pants that he had to tie in a neat bow so they didn’t fall. 
I went digging in his drawers and helped him pick out as well as get into his own pajamas, then he picked me up as I squeaked loudly and started laughing. 
“Spencer! What’re you doing?!” I yelled through giggles. 
“I’m not doing anything!” He smirked as he dropped me onto his bed then sat next to me. 
Spence was barely on the bed two seconds before I was in his lap, hugging him tight. He looped his arms back around me as he leaned back, hugging me close as he pulled the blankets over us and I nuzzled into his shoulder. 
Neither of us moved for a while, long enough for us both to fall asleep. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I felt his lips press against the back of my head with a whispered ‘I love you’.
“Spence..?”
“Hmm..?”
“Can you like…talk to me? Like just…just tell me about something. Anything you want.”
“You’re giving me a lot of power here, sweetheart.” 
“I know, pretty boy, but your voice is…it’s comforting to me.” 
“Okay, you asked for it…” he cleared his throat in a dramatic fashion, making me giggle, before continuing, “The first thing I could think of that could be a lot of fun was Star Wars, so did you know that the name Yoda can be translated to ‘warrior’ in Sanskrit? Also, the word ‘Ewok’ was never spoken aloud in any of the films, even when they visit Endor, the only time it ever comes up is in the credits of ‘Return of the Jedi’,” Spencer rambled excitedly, and I was happy to listen to him for as long as he could talk. Just listening to him, it felt like the rest of the world melted away. Nothing else mattered, and that was the way I preferred it. 
I didn’t even notice I had been falling asleep until he kissed my head and softly wished me goodnight. 
107 notes · View notes
schlushiii · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Back with more shenanigans on the battle subway <3
303 notes · View notes
actual-changeling · 6 months
Text
i know that since forever we have all been caught in "wow i wish i could draw/paint/create that way but i'm just a writer" and "wow i wish i could write but i can just draw/paint/create this way" but it still gets me every single time when someone makes fanart based on something i wrote
like what do you mean you took my silly little words that happen to form sentences and made a fucking masterpiece???? hello???????
211 notes · View notes
tervaneula · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Commission for the lovely @agentturtlecupcake of Sunflower and Gen!! I loved drawing them, oh gosh, look how cute they are ;_;
189 notes · View notes
i-like-pink-lolzz · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
@gibblegabber goat dad singing for the shits becoz he can (also zim heard some bitch whistling in the lab and now it’s a habit forever)
263 notes · View notes
kiwiana-writes · 4 months
Text
WIP Wednesday
Tumblr media
Thanks to @daisymae-12 @anincompletelist @suseagull04 for the tags! I'm having A Bit Of A Week so I decided to jump back into a doc I've been struggling with for a while but really love, aka Anastasia AU my beloved, and smash out a few new words for it. I'd apologise for it being so bloody long buuuuuuut turns out I'm not actually sorry!
“Age progression AI,” Nora says, and Alex nods as though this means anything to him. “Someone’s built one that they’re claiming will, quote, ‘change the game’ when it comes to missing person’s cases, but they don’t give a single fuck about the privacy concerns or the data usage implications, so I’m trying to pull it apart and prove it’s janky. Can’t rely on capitalism to do the moral thing, but I sure can trust corporations to recognise a bad investment.” Alex hums in agreement, leaning over her shoulder. “Is it good, though? Ethical quandaries aside?” “Unfortunately, yeah.” Nora reaches for the Red Bull next to her laptop, taking a long swig. “But everything I’m feeding it is already public domain—celebrities and stuff—so it’s hard to differentiate true AI generation from it scanning and returning older photos of the same person. So now I’m looking at people the internet doesn’t have photos of past a certain age, seeing what it spits out.” “Like… dead children?” He winces. “Dark.” “Dead or missing.” She minimises the window full of code, bringing up a side-by-side of two pictures instead. “Prince Henry. Disappeared the night we dissolved the monarchy, almost definitely dead, but his family still— Alex, are you okay?” It’s only when Nora says his name that Alex realises his head is spinning; he sucks in a breath, and the immediate relief he feels makes it clear that he hadn’t done so for longer than is strictly advisable. He can’t tear his eyes away from the picture on the right: the sharp blue eyes, the soft-looking golden hair, the imperious set to his jaw that drove Alex crazy for an entire semester. “That’s— you’re fucking with me, right?” “Alex, babe. I love that your brain runs a million miles a minute, but in this particular case, I think you’ve left me behind.”  Alex turns to look at her. He’s known Nora for years—biblically and otherwise—and he likes to think he can read her well enough. If he’s right, she’s not fucking with him, and somehow that’s worse. “Nora,” he says slowly, “I know this guy.”
Forever feeling feral for whatever y'all are up to, so tags below the cut and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)
@affectionatelyrs @celaestis1 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @dumbpeachjuice @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @hypnostheory @iboatedhere @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @lilythesilly @myheartalivewrites @nontoxic-writes @orchidscript @rmd-writes @roseapothecary @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland 
106 notes · View notes
crescentfool · 11 months
Photo
Tumblr media
i just want good things for them 🥺💗
285 notes · View notes
arowadas · 4 months
Text
currently thinking about that one moment from thh that was lost in translation… that bit from the first trial where they’re discussing aoi’s alibi (in reference to getting the knife) and how she was in the kitchen with sakura the whole time?
this is how the conversation goes in the english translation
Tumblr media
obv in english this can be chalked up to him just like… not knowing her name. but the reason he asks is because when aoi mentions sakura, she refers to her as sakura-chan and everyone else atp only knows her by her surname and MAYBE an honorific (or a flat out insult, thank u hiro hagakure)
so um. what if they’re best friends and then what if they’re in love and uhm. yuri. send tweet <3
71 notes · View notes
thebramblewood · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Cooking up some new content for this week...
71 notes · View notes
counterorbit · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
08.25.23
Vallite nights
95 notes · View notes
killemwithkawaii · 19 days
Text
Alright, the kewk classic 'face hole' design it is~ 📊✅
Tumblr media
"Ain't he a doll?" 💋💦💕
And now while I fuck with this anatomy sketch 5ever, we gotta decide on a background! I'm thinking Sal would prefer to do his love-sick swooning in the privacy of his bedroom, but where, exactly? 🤔
Tumblr media
'The bed'-
Perks: seems more routine, sowft snuggly nest to daydream and swoon in, [darling] collage on the wall, '... okay, what have you been doing with that pillow...?'
Drawbacks: Limited space, have to take stability/sinking into account with props, perspective is Hard and I will make that headboard look good or die trying
'The floor'-
Perks: seems more impulsive, more yan/NEET clutter potential (more room to spread out), a glimpse under his bed (and at all the [darling] stuff he's got shoved under there)
Drawbacks: That carpet is UGLY, I will probably (definitely) bite off more than I can chew trying to fill all that space with props, it hurts my Everything just thinking about lying on the floor like that for too long
'Secret third thing'-
....???? idk you tell me lol
33 notes · View notes
junkboxcorner · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
{WIP] He's still out there
58 notes · View notes