#and after that he takes them constantly

[tmmyhug]

batman canonically has a belt pouch with lollipops so i think stealing from the lollipop pouch is a time honored robin tradition

[batfamhyperfixation]

Tim had his spleen removed, right. This means he would not be able to withstand bacterial infection as well (a.k.a. getting sick, which happens a lot when people get injured or sleep deprived cause their immune system weakens), so for his own safety, he would likely take care of himself more than the other bats would care for themselves. He probably wouldn't get in a fight he knows he would badly lose, or win but get very injured during. Tim would be the calm and calculating one. He already is deemed as smart and a great detective, so that makes him even scarier.

He gets a reputation as a vigilant far more dangerous from his siblings, cause he perches like a bird above the fight, but if he gets involved, then the villains know they're goners. If it's Dick, Jason, Steph, Cass, even Damian and Batman himself, people don't get as intimidated, but should Tim come in, they back off so fast. In this essay I will...

[morganbritton132]

Eddie posts a Tiktok the morning after Steve jump scared Gareth. Steve is just towering over where Gareth is asleep, sticking his hands into the folds of the couch around him because Eddie can’t find his inhaler and that’s the last place he thinks he had it.

All the while, they’re having what sounds like the world’s most mundane conversation about a wildly bizarre concept.

Eddie: You know, he thinks you do it on purpose to scare him. Specifically him.

Steve, moving Gareth’s arm to check under it: Oh yeah, because I love going to sleep in one place and waking up somewhere else. That’s like, my favorite thing

Eddie: You gotta get over the car thing, Stevie

Steve: I will never! I thought I died and they picked my unconscious body and shoved me into a car, Eddie. A Camaro! Then they drove my unconscious body to a hole in a ground and made me get in it. And then-

Eddie: You got vetoed

Steve, carefully lifting Gareth’s head up to check under it: And THEN, I got outvoted on who would drive back! Who does- oh, hey man

Gareth, who just woke up with Steve Harrington way too close to his face and cradling his head: Dude, what the hell

Eddie laughs in the background with the wispy wheezing sound he sometimes makes when his asthma acts up. They do eventually find his inhaler. It was in the car.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

long as fuck nails always painted with at least a clear coat club:

saiki kusuo

teruhashi kokomi

kaido shun

saiko metori

imu rifuta

nail biters club:

kuboyasu aren

yumehara chiyo

arisu makino

suzumiya hii

nendo riki

aiura mikoto (with fake nails over top)

(formerly) kaido shun

(formerly) toritsuka reita

(formerly) akechi touma

normal short nails 🙄:

hairo kineshi

mera chisato

satou hiroshi

toritsuka reita

akechi touma

[jgracie]

i love thinking ab relationships between cabins

[zeb-z]

mfw I sacrifice my vision for knowledge of power. surely this isn’t a metaphor for anything

[panharmonium]

something about how yamato’s immediate and instinctive first reaction is to call out for itachi when all twelve of these coffins (including the ones containing asuma and hayate) open up at exactly the same time is really hitting me in a certain way right now

[youssefguedira]

have a little more fencing world champion joe. because it's worlds again and olympics soonish. enjoy

The clock on the nightstand changes from 01:36 to 01:37, and Joe sighs, rolling over to stare up at the ceiling. Nicky, beside him, shifts in his sleep but doesn't wake.

Joe, however, has been awake since at least 12:08, and feels far too restless to sleep. It's almost certainly jet lag: they're in Chicago for a little while, visiting Nile and her family, and largely trying to enjoy the last little bit of free time they have left until training begins again in earnest. Of course, Joe's kit bag is lying open at the foot of the bed, and Nicky's beside it: just because they're not formally training doesn't mean they won't need it at all.

Still, Joe can't sleep. He sighs again, and gives up on trying to do so entirely. Maybe he'll be able to find some time to rest tomorrow, though he doubts it. Nile's got a lot of things she wants to show them, and Joe would ordinarily be thrilled, if he wasn't so tired.

It'll pass, Andy told him, though she doesn't seem to have been affected by it at all. He's almost certain they'll meet her in the morning for breakfast and she'll be exactly as normal, as if they haven't just crossed multiple time zones. Even Nicky, who hadn't struggled nearly as much as Joe had, had begun to slow down some time around midday, but Andy had been fine.

He gets out of bed, careful not to wake Nicky, who's rolled onto his side facing the door. With nothing else to do, Joe makes his way to the little balcony attached to their room, picking up his phone from the nightstand on the way. The sliding door squeals a little when he opens it, but when he looks over at Nicky he hasn't even moved.

While it's certainly quieter than it had been before, the city is nowhere near silent. It's beautiful, though, and Joe takes a picture to send to his sister.

She texts him back immediately. Pretty, but isn't it like the middle of the night for you?

1 am, Joe responds. Jet lag.

His phone lights up with a call then, but not from Amira. He reads the contact name and answers, heart in his throat.

Oof, is Amira's response.

He almost drops his phone when he realises what they're calling him for.

By the time they hang up, his hands are shaking: he stays like that, phone still pressed to his ear even after the call has ended, for at least a few minutes.

Finally, at a loss for what else to do, he lowers his phone and goes back inside. Sits down on the edge of the bed.

The movement is just enough to wake Nicky, who blinks a few times before sliding into awareness all at once, the way he always does. He sits up, leaning against the headboard, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Joe?" he asks, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep. He frowns when Joe doesn't answer straight away. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Joe says. Fidgets with his phone, screen now dark, still in his hands. "Uh. They want me for the Olympic team."

Nicky is silent for all of a split second before his expression breaks into a wide smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Joe can't keep himself from smiling now, either, as Nicky cups the back of Joe's neck with one hand, leans in to press their foreheads together. Joe closes his eyes.

"Of course they do, Joe," Nicky says then. "You're the best in the world right now. You're going to be incredible."

There are times when that doesn't quite feel real, even if it's been a while.

"You'll come with me?" Joe asks.

"Always," Nicky says. Then he pulls back and kisses Joe's cheek, his forehead, the space between his eyes, until Joe laughs.

"I love you," Nicky tells him.

They'd met fencing épée, of all things. Andy had invited the seven of them – they hadn't quite been friends yet, but Joe had known Quynh for a couple years by then, and Andy too, while Nicky had already known Nile – to train with her and Quynh for a while, and Joe couldn't possibly refuse, because Andy was both his friend and one of the best coaches in the world back then. She'd made them all switch to a weapon they didn't usually use, and Joe and Nicky had picked épée: Joe because he figured it would be easier than restricting his target area to the torso only, and Nicky because épée was far closer to foil than sabre. They'd been about evenly matched, and it had been – well, it had been fun.

Joe had left a week later with Nicky's number in his phone and a small, fluttering hope in his chest. And even if they hadn't kept in touch very well those first few months, when the World Championships came around, and Joe had qualified for the second time, Nicky had joined Andy to meet him at the airport, grinning widely when he caught sight of him.

The rest, as they say, is history.

"I love you too," Joe says.

"You want to tell the others?" Nicky asks.

Joe looks at him for a moment. Looks at the clock. "It's 1 am, Nicky. Andy will kill us both."

Nicky snorts. "In the morning, then?"

"In the morning," Joe agrees.

Neither of them end up going back to sleep until 4 am, and they're both exhausted at breakfast the next morning, but. It's worth it.

[pixelatedraindrops]

The NDA afflicted with different illness 😷 + sprites :3

Yuma: Influenza/High Fever

Yakou: Stomach Virus

Halara: Bad Allergies

Desuhiko: Laryngitis

Fubuki: High Fatigue/Dizziness

Vivia: Severe Anemia/Dehydration

Kurumi: Common Cold

~

[hopesallwegotleft]

[moeblob]

Anyway today was bad and I failed fanart and it's late take OCs

His name is Nytis and her name is Elnae (I'm proud of myself for naming them so fast). He only calls her El and /has/ only called her El for years and he actually forgets her name isn't /just/ El.

[stupid-and-cute-are-enough]

cough. here's a little super short fic i wrote bc i make those too. be sure to check out the silly extra details i added in the tags!

@get-rammed

Monty lets out a heavy sigh, sitting on the much too small couch in his room, his handler close by his side, messing around with wires in the open compartment on his arm. Something went wrong with his claws again, and management is convinced that it’s the programming or the wiring that’s the problem, sicking his handler on the problem again and again. Monty doesn’t think it’s either of those things.

He huffs again and drops his head onto his free hand, boredom clawing at his... shell. His handler bumps with a small clank.

“Sit still, you big baby. I’ll be done in a minute.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been one to sit still, sweets.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna today.”

He rolls his eyes again, resisting the urge to let out another huff. He knows fusing over this is only gonna make it take longer. That and… he can see the bags under his handler’s eyes. It’s late. Far later than any other employee stays, except those working the graveyard shift. It seems like even the other animatronic handlers have gone home for the day. He can tell that they’re tired, but they never bring it up to him. They probably don’t want to worry him, all things considered, but that just makes Monty even more anxious. They look half asleep already, so Monty decides to occupy them with the most meaningless conversation he can muster.

“Hey, so, like…” Monty trails off, rolling his free hand at the wrist. “I barely saw any, uh, human staff around today, even though it was super fuckin’ busy. Why’s that?”

His handler stops, blinking for a second. “Oh, it’s, uh, Labor Day. It’s like a national holiday about unions or something, and people usually get the day off.”

Monty raises a brow. “Why didn’t you get the day off?”

They snort. “You don’t get the day off, so I don’t get the day off.”

Monty hums. “... That’s pretty shitty for us then, huh?”

They laugh, patting his arm. “Yeah. It is. Hey, I just finished up re-wiring everything. Give me a test and see if everything works right?”

Monty obliges, clenching his fists and spinning them around at the wrist. He mimics plenty of movements he makes while playing on stage, and nothing stutters, nothing stalls, or makes any weird noises. His internal diagnostics show no issues, either. All seems well, so he leans back and gives a smug, shit-eating smile. One that’s familiar.

“All’s workin’,” he replies, keeping up his smile when he sees the weight lifted off his handler by the news. They don’t like being comforted. Not directly, anyway.

“Great,” they sigh, slouching into a more relaxed position. They close up the compartment on Monty’s arm, giving it one last, solid pat.

“You good to recharge and everything?” They ask, packing up their small tool bag and tossing it in some random corner of the room. They barely put it away anymore, but management hasn’t caught on yet. Or maybe his handler just doesn’t care that they’re supposed to put it away. Either is possible. “Do you want me to lay with you?”

Monty thinks as they bustle around the room, turning down the lights and doing a cursory glance at his recharge station. He does want them to lay with him. He always does. But Monty sees the exhaustion in their shoulders and feels some kind of misplaced guilt. They’re this tired because he’s a Glamrock now, not just a side attraction. He became more of a handful. He broke more. He needed them more at all hours of the day. They’re his handler. He’s tired, and he’s not even human.

“Naw,” he says, tilting his head and smiling. “I’m good.”

“Alrighty then,” his handler puts on a brave smile, grabbing their oversized Monty jacket and slinging it over their shoulders. Before, Monty would’ve teased them about being such a simp, how they don’t need his merch because they already wear his face all day, or how they could literally just zip up their uniform, but he lets it go for tonight.

“Se you tomorrow, big guy.”

Monty doesn’t comment on how today is already tomorrow.

“Goodnight, cher.”

His handler leaves, muttering about how they’ll probably need to catch a bus because they “don’t think they can drive like this,” and Monty wants nothing more than to invite them back. To give them the whole couch and let them sleep. But for all the crazy hours Fazbear Entertainment expects of them, they’re not allowed to stay overnight. No one is allowed to stay overnight, except for the night shift workers, who all had to sign crazy amounts of paperwork, and they both know it.

So, instead, Monty watches them make their way to the entrance. He watches as they struggle with their ID until the heavy metal doors rise, and they can slip out the door. He strains his eyes to see them disappear into the dark until the metal doors obscure them from view and hopes for all it’s worth that tomorrow will be easier.

___

please ignore any silly typos im p sure i got them all but its super late. i wanna post this tho so im posting it. i may or may not repost this later but like. as a better version lmao ram pls tell me if monty is OOC i was punching AIR trying to write this guy 😭 i thought i knew him well and then BAM no the fuck i dont

[llycaons]

'poor heroic tragic saint jiang cheng' is actually my favorite jc misinterpretation it is just so fucking funny. I'll watch the man advocate to abandon a group of political prisoners to state-sanctoined genocide, constantly yell about his issues, threaten his nephew and everyone else around him, and abuse his power to intentionally trigger his traumatized brother bc he's mad at him and I go online and see posts about how he's so strong and noble and a great parent/leader despite suffering so much. LIKE

[like-sands-of-time]

Idk man I'm a little mad we got one dying kiss between soulmates out of 6 hours of film and no future for them, it just feels insanely unsatisfying? I guess?

Was that meant to be a happy ending?? Her other half is dead .. story rules dictate she can't just go on and be happy with her other half dead, not after they actually said it instead of leaving it unspoken. They have some force bond. Dyads. Equals, two halves of one whole. Balance between light and dark. First in generations they said. No way she's just Fine after his death. No way she's Balanced after his death, what? How?

[dolokhoded]

i'm supposed to be studying but i have a hot take which is that could we start again please should have been an ensemble number mostly led by mary and peter's verse should've been divided to him, john and james if not more of them

[shakingparadigm]

Would the human pets be capable of basic tasks like washing their clothes or preparing food? I can see some pets knowing how to prepare food as like, a fun little party trick to impress others, but as a basic survival skill I don't think it's commonly taught to humans anymore. There's most likely a line drawn between pets that are helpful and reliable, and pets that are too capable, to the point where certain owners may feel threatened by their level of intelligence and independence. I wonder just how helpless the humans would be without their aliens.