#been too long since I drabbled!

[arrowflier]

Galladrabbles: Rock Band

@galladrabbles

Bass thumps under Ian's feet as the beat drops, a constant buzz at odds with the manic whir of the synthesizer.

"Thought you said this was a rock band?"

Glazed eyes meet his, rimmed in electric blue.

"They do rock!"

Cole grabs his arm, twirls under it like they're dancing. His manicured grip slips as Ian stumbles.

"Sorry," Ian mumbles. His head and his feet are on two different planes. "I'm gonna go."

"Go where?"

That's when Ian sees him. Standing by the stage, glaring out. A tic in his brow timed perfectly with the overbearing beat.

"I'm going closer."

[catsoupki]

box me up until i spill | bkg x reader blurb

“what are you doing?” bakugou mumbles

“nothing, will you just go back to sleep?” you don’t look at him when you speak, but instead you focus all of your attention onto your current task

“well i can’t when you’re just making random metal clashing noises next to me, just get back onto the bed and leave it for later when we wake up again, it’s not that fucking urgent”

you take a deep breath, but with the way you roughly slam the spoons into the box that houses the forks, it sends a grimace onto his face. in turn, he rolls over from facing you and now the wall

“if you did this when i asked you to yesterday maybe i wouldn’t have to do it right now but you didn’t, so just wait two more god damn minutes and then you can sleep again okay?”

he sighs, and for a moment you think that he’ll keep his mouth shut and keep quiet for once, suddenly the utensils you’re organising feel cold and biting against your skin, they feel like they’re drooping and melting into putty right in between your grasp, and you can’t catch it

“can you just give it a rest?” he goes from facing the wall to sitting up, the curtains flutter slightly in the wind and it tussles his hair in a way that makes you want to cry

“no i can’t fucking do that! i’ve laid out my life right in front of you and i’ve given you myself yet it’s still not enough! you’re a hero who doesn’t get to sleep at night fine i get it! but i’m not any less important so don’t you ever go around and speak to me like that ever again! you promised me all those eight years ago in that basketball court the day we graduated, and you remember what i said yeah? if you did i’d fucking leave!”

all the work you’ve been doing the past ten minutes is rinsed down the drain, useless and helpless to end, the flailing of your arms has caused the box that stored all the metal utensils to fall onto the floor. chopsticks, spoons, forks and knives poke at the hardwood floor and at the edges of furniture, it doesn’t chip the wall, it chips your heart instead.

you’re tired, and even when you’re not dressed for the outside, in mere pyjama pants and a random shirt that you go to sleep in, you walk towards the door and leave the mess behind you

[cerise-on-top]

Could I ask for some fluff of a Hank x Reader x 2BDamned? If that's okay, please!

Hello! Of course you can! Here you go!

Poly 2BHank x Reader Fluff

I would say that the both of them are rather busy people, so you won’t be spending too much time together. It’s not like they can make too much time for each other either, though. However, they’ll try. It’s fairly risky for everyone involved, especially for you. If you’re not part of S.Q. then you’ll likely become the target of some attack if you’re seen with Doc. If you’re seen with Hank, if people can tell you’re affiliated with him, then they’ll attack you as well. So really, you’ll be at a disadvantage either way. However, it’s not like either of them feel like going out too much with you. Yes, Hank will want to get some hot dogs with you at some point since he does like those, but after a mission he’s usually torn as a rag and just wants to sleep. Doc is well aware of the dangers he poses towards your wellbeing, so he actively chooses to not go out with you too much either. However, that doesn’t mean that the three of you can’t be lovey dovey at home. It’s very rare to see Hank and Doc cuddle properly with each other, but it happens. Neither of them are touchy people, but sometimes you just desire the touch of a loved one, so you might catch Hank sitting on the floor next to Doc from time to time, his head in his lap. Hank could fall asleep like this too, actually, but he wants to protect you and Doc, so he usually doesn’t. Doc sometimes has a hand on Hank’s shoulder and gently rubs it to show he’s there for him, but he needs his other hand to go through files. If you join Hank on his endeavours, cuddling up to Doc yourself, then the grunt will sigh in feign annoyance and get away from his work for some time to give the two of you some attention. You can get him to settle down for the night like this as well, but he will only begrudgingly do so. 2B may not be the cuddliest person out there, and neither is Hank, but he does enjoy some physical touch from time to time. You will likely switch it up when it comes to cuddling. While you may be the little spoon now, chances are you’ll be the big spoon next time. 2B and Hank are versatile like that. While Hank may prefer holding someone as he falls asleep, if he’s not headed to bed then he can go either way.

Although it’s rare for Hank to show his softer side, he will do so for you and Doc only. Sometimes he’ll come back from a mission, bloody and almost entirely disassembled, holding a few flowers he found. Maybe even a nice scarf or a cool weapon. Despite being a very confident grunt, he knows he can easily protect you, he does believe that you having a weapon yourself would help you with defending yourself. Sometimes he’ll get you a nice katana, one like he has. Other times you can expect a rocket launcher or chainsaw from him as well. His metaphorical tail starts wagging whenever either you or Doc accept his gifts and thank him. He did a good job on this one, you will be safe and sound from here on out. Give him a nice pat, either on his arm or head, and he’ll happily grunt away. Doc pats Hank from time to time and Hank absolutely loves it. However, only you and Doc are allowed to do that, anyone else will be dealt with immediately. Hank definitely doesn’t mind being treated like a dog from time to time. If he’s in a good mood you can call him a good boy and put his face in your hands, he eats that right up. Be enthusiastic about it as well and he’ll lightly headbutt you. Don’t get mad at him for doing so, he doesn’t know what to do with these positive emotions, so he goes straight for gentle violence again.

Going on dates with the two of them mostly consists of something simple. Doc usually suggests Burger Gil’s since no one cares that Hank is there. People are there for the food, not to get mauled by Hank, so they usually leave you alone. Sometimes the three of you go to take a look at the red sun on a cliff as well, though, and reminisce about the better times. Hank still remembers the greenery that used to be in Nevada. He doesn’t remember it well since he doesn’t miss it in the slightest, but he’s lived a good chunk of his life surrounded by plants. Doc barely remembers them, but he still thinks back on them fondly. While neither of the two of them may be sentimental people, they do like discussing the past. There’s always something new to be learned about each other. There’s this unspoken trust between the three of you, so you know each other better than anyone else. For example, you know that Hank likes being picked up, even if he’s far too tall and heavy for that these days. Sometimes you pretend to try and pick him up just to make him feel good. One fact you’ve learned about Doc is that he sometimes, when you and Hank are asleep, likes to hold one hand of each of you. Sometimes he can’t sleep well, or at all, so he opts to spend that time resting from time to time. He won’t particularly go all out in holding you since he doesn’t wanna risk waking you, you’re both extremely tired, after all, but he does like holding your hands, sometimes playing with your fingers as well. He denies this, but you both know it happens. Sometimes Hank makes fun of Doc for it in his usual demeanour, but he secretly loves it. Hank’s favourite activity aside from killing and maiming is helping you and Doc out with whatever you need, even if it’s just holding the wrench. Doc loves showing you his creations. While he knows you likely won’t understand a word he’s saying, he explains them to you anyway. Besides, if he’s made a mistake thinking it over, then he’s more likely to find it while talking. Besides, he gets to spend time with you, what else could he possibly want?

[eikichi-supremacy]

nooooo don't think about kuwabara picking up smoking when yusuke leaves for makai as something to remember him by you're so sexy hahah

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

hi hi hi

i just found your immortal au and i absolutely love it omh i am obsessed

it is 2:20am. i meant to go to sleep three hours ago. i kinda really want to write something for your au. does it really not have any ao3 fanfiction yet? except i have no idea what to write so im just kinda sitting here with restless energy

i should probably go to bed now. i just really wanted to let you know that i love your au and everything that you make and you are such a good artist.

ok that's it, that's all, im gonna go now goodnight. you're fantastic

HI HI HELLO!!!!!!! SHAKES YOU

MNABJWJWK EXPLODES IN A BILLION CONFETTI READING THIS

It doesn't yet! I'm considering it but yk. I'd have to get actually good at writing first. Also world building which you'd think would be better by now with how old this au is. So that might take a while mshebeij

You are more than welcome in spending that energy taking to me abt it tho :D <3 I don't shut up once I start rambling so it might as well be the same as getting a full writing of it MBSHWI

Thank you tumblr user artundertalelover I am kissing you on the forehead. We are holding hands into the sunset. You are awesome

[eulalized]

“would you watch ghibli films with me?”

a simple question, maybe a bit silly, but you’d like it if kazuha can answer it. you like that he answers your questions (or at least tries to), you know he has the patience. you think that with a scarred heart, kazuha couldn’t answer this burden of a question—yet he’s always proved that thought wrong.

“i would love to watch ghibli films with you.”

and you think now, time and time again: kazuha always knows what to say. you, aghast—or is it more of an awe?��are left with the replaying of memories for what you have done to deserve him: still, you see none. he is not just flowery words; he’s given you the reality you always wanted, because he knows that you are something more (and you deserve that much).

“you would?”

“always.” 

if it was not prominent before, i should hope it is now, kazuha thinks. he wants to stay, with you and all that you are. he wants you to know that, through and through, he would never grow tired of you or the things he’d do for you. he would sing the melodies of deities, he would recite the words endlessly in his mind and out, he would paint for you all gems of the world—and of course, it would start with you.

“and if we finish them all, we can watch them again and again, as long you like.”

you ask, “are you sure?”

(you aren’t sure of the question. is it more of the intention of are you sure? are you sure you love me this way, that you would forever? because maybe forever isn’t a long time, maybe kazuha couldn’t keep up with forever.)

“of course. i would watch anything with you,” he reassures—he always does.

kazuha says, “if you want to watch another movie, we can watch it. if you want to watch the stars instead, then we can gaze upon them.”

if his love was not yet prominent enough, what could he do? kazuha would love you better, he’d write it in the skies—he’d align all clouds to reflect the meaning of you. he’d chant of your soul and beauty, in poems and in songs, to adorn all thorns of withered petals so that you may know how much he loves you.

(he’ll keep up with you. he’ll do it for you.)

[another-corpo-rat]

wip wednesday

tagged by @corpocyborg, ty!!! <3 tagging with no pressure!! @theviridianbunny, @wistereia, @wanderingaldecaldo & @luvwich tfw work has slaughtered most of my motivation to work on things, but i do have some wips in the pipeline, starting with the closest to done:

Pale Yellow

featuring @pozerjacket's darling boy Kauri, and Victoria in a not great mood. Titled after the woodkid song. there's just a few more paragraphs that need re-written before i comb through it again

It’s a familiar enough thing; Stunzer’s voice was always as bright as his mood when he was off-duty – and she was yet to be privy to him not in a good mood. He was one of the rare few who could claw genuine joy out of the shithole that was Night City, a skill she would perhaps envy were she a lesser woman born to parents selfish enough to bring a child into a life condemned to the gutters. But a lesser woman she was not and she’d have no need for it now, not with a one-way ticket booked for London. First-class of course, because she wouldn’t allow herself to suffer lesser.  She was in agony enough as his smile and tone grated against already raw nerves. “Stunzer.” She says, sharp and cold as if she was interrupting someone’s stupidity in a meeting— And really that didn’t seem far off. She did feel him utterly idiotic with that stupid smile and aggressively pleasant mood. Painfully genuine and foolish for it. But not entirely so, at her word the switch flips and his bright smile drops into something more presentable, practiced. Professional. Good. She did keep his contact details for reasons beyond warming her bed. “I have a job for you,” and she could do without her voice sounding rough to her own ears; the words rasping against her coarse throat, “no fixers, no middlemen. Meet me on the Ebunike in Northside if you’re interested, Maelstrom shouldn’t give you any trouble.” She cuts the call before he can speak and wonders why she didn’t just send a text.

That Unwanted Animal

and then there's the untitled very much in the planning stages smasher-getting-pegged fic thats still in the bullet-points format in my document atm. even the title is a placeholder from the amazing devil song

“Fuck you, Blondie.” “If that’s what you’d prefer.” There’s enough of a pause that he seems to be considering it, his jaw working as if he’s caught the safe-word between his teeth and is shaping it with his tongue. “Or,” she croons, with the practiced softness of a suit guiding someone towards the answer they want, “you get on your back instead. See how you feel then.” “And how the fuck will that help?” A click of her tongue, derisive. “You think I let the dolls look at me?” Another pause, another moment of consideration. It’s a bold-faced lie and he knows it, knows she’d sooner break their jaws for looking away rather than forcing their head into the pillows. But it’d hardly be the first time they accepted one another’s lie for their own sake, twisting and working with it just enough to iron out the kinks in their reasoning. Safely tossed away immediately after, to be brought up only when their bickering turns to arguments and a way to shake the other’s foundation. Her success is marked by another huff and the deep dip of the bed as he rolls to adjust his position, ungraciously kicking her in the turn. His smirk is too wide and the late ‘move’ too amused for it not to be purposeful. But her annoyance is short-lived, much shorter than she’d like but— anger is a difficult thing to hold onto as he gets comfortable, the air stolen from her lungs with the picture. [describe adam here. Be horny with it] Those thick legs frame her now as she settles between them, trailing a hand along his inner thigh and almost regretting having him on his hands and knees in the first place. Almost. If she didn’t suggest it for his sake; comfort was rarely a luxury offered in either of his lives, because what does an 8ft war machine need of goose-feather pillows and a gentle hand? Nothing, if he were to be asked, but he was extending a deeper trust than she expected, and so it was the least she could offer in return.

[rxskomi]

Moving to a foreign place for university isn't easy. The culture, food, environment, people, almost everything is different from what you're used to and it's quite hard to adapt. That is until you bumped into someone with big sturdy chest and greyish hair.

Bokuto was a year older than you, your senior to be exact. You two met by bumping into each other. You were staring at your timetable trying to figure out where your next class is and Bokuto happen to walk into you while talking to one of his friends. (Yes bump into his chest). That impact caused your timetable to slip from your hand and fly with the wind🍃. Bokuto saw your timetable taking flight and tried to grab it and so did you, this caused both of your hand to collide and you quickly retracted you hand upon contact in fear and embarrassment. On the other hand Bokuto was adamant on getting that timetable of yours to which he did indeed catch it and gave it back to you.

“Sorry about that, are you hurt? Oh my gosh how could I make it up to you? I’m super sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going!” Bokuto rambled on in nervousness and worry.

“I’m okay, I am not hurt…” You replied awaiting for this mysterious person to give you his name so can address him properly.

“OH! Sorry I am Bokuto, Bokuto Koutarou. I am currently in my 2nd year! Nice to meet you!” Bokuto beams in excitement.

“Ah Bokuto, I am Y/N nice to meet you. If you don’t mind can you please help me to get to my next class? It’s my first year here and I’m very lost” you asked politely. To which Bokuto straight away took your arm and held it up to see your timetable that you’re currently holding and leads the way to your next class.

“Ah yes! Professor (name)’s class! I’ll bring you there, lets go c’mon!!” Bokuto enthusiastically says and leads the way.

All this while Bokuto is still holding onto your arm whilst leading the way to your next class. Once you reached the door to your class he finally lets go.

“Here we are! Hope you enjoy Professor (name)’s class. They do a great job of teaching and if you don’t understand you can always come find me for help!” Bokuto beams with that golden smile of his and you can’t help but smile with him.

“Thanks Bokuto, I’ll find you if i have any confusion or enquiries in the future! But for me to do that I do need your phone number..” You said with an embarrassed smile.

“OF COURSE HOW COULD I FORGET” and thus Bokuto gives you his phone number and a friendship between the both of you blossoms.

[magistralucis]

Hello! Can I please get a "I'm right here" for soft gop sebinsky? 🥲

"I'm right here." - Soft Gop!Sebinsky

-------------------

Ever since you moved to the dacha much about life has been easier. Even insomnia is easier. It is how you lie awake now, greeted neither by the weight of work nor pinprick blinks from the opposing apartment, the windows lighting up one by one as the neighbours begin their day. Here there is only darkness. Darkness, and blissful quiet, punctuated in tandem with yours and your lover's breathing.

But there's more out there, of course. If you choose to look.

You close your eyes for a long moment. Count the indeterminable seconds, and open them again, gazing beside you where Vincent is fast asleep. Then slowly, you rise, slipping from the covers as a page slides from an envelope.

This routine's as familiar on this floor now as it was in your city apartment. One foot then the other, from rug to slipper. Some years ago you mutually agreed to have the beds downstairs, and so as soon as you get up, the rest of the dacha is yours to explore. You look back at Vincent for a moment, tussling with the urge to stroke his silver hair or leave him be - before compromising with a gentle touch upon his shoulder, after which you depart, tiptoeing to muffle the sound as you set out on your night-journey.

Two dozen steps every way and that would've been it, back in the old apartment. Here, though, you can make it a real journey if you want.

(Do you want?)

Consider the indoors. There's the kitchen, the counters, half of a syrup loaf from the earlier afternoon. (Mixed nuts and dates, topped with demerara sugar.) The hand-carved chairs, freshly cushioned and covered by Vincent last winter. Table with papers laid out upon it. Summer comes early in these parts of the land and even in this early hour you see blue, damask blue, painting gentle dots across the floor through the sheer net curtains. They drift beneath your feet and you feel as if you're standing in the middle of the lake.

It'd be nice to go later, when it's light. You might even go fishing. What Vincent's been teaching you since last summer won't go untested.

A tiny smile drifts to your mouth. You're not conscious of those things normally, let alone in the middle of insomnia walks, where past the initial waking your senses tune towards anything but yourself. At the dacha and in the woods, though, it's hard not to be aware of those things: just about everything that's around you was here long before you came by, you are the changeable element, unlike in the city where everything shifts all the time. How good it is, then, that you have friends who change in tandem with you. Some right next door, some in the city (cities), some abroad. The last thing you did before going to bed was to draft a letter to one of them. That's the papers laid out on the table; you don't sit at it or anything, just look, tiptoeing on the wooden floor as the dawn rosy-fingered drifts between the blue and lights up the last page enough to be legible.

... to your newest exhibition. We're still waiting on L. and M. on the plans to meet them halfway, hopefully we can bring them along; autumn in Moscow is an incandescent time, and I'm counting down the days before we're all sat together again, gathered around the same table once more. Send Bob our greetings. See you both very soon.

P. S. You are probably no longer surprised to hear this, but yes: last year's bumper crop is still keeping Vinco and I fed. We're down to two jars that need to go before the strawberries comes in, but by the time this letter reaches you it might well be that time, so: might I tempt you with a jar of gooseberry jam when we come? Or two? Either of you? Let us know.

All that's left are well-wishes and the stamp. You'll take it to be posted in the morning.

(You think that like this isn't morning, functionally speaking.)

That's as far as you can go this way, unless you have business in the kitchen. You might well stop here and make tea - you've greeted Vincent that way many a time in the past, sitting quietly by the table upon the other's awakening, soft steam rising from your cup - but the dawn-light holds you back, beckons you to come join it for the time being. You step into your outdoor shoes and slip out the door.

In the single second you cross the threshold your breath streams white, then fades totally into the daybreak.

The clouds are thick above your head. Still darker than the surrounding firmament, though even as you watch you can swear it's getting lighter by the minute. The perimeters outside your garden and fence remain dense and impenetrable, but right here's the banya - the chicken coop, the hens within clucking sleepily as you tiptoe past - the quail run, the dovecote, two fishing rods propped up against the wall.

The breeze is cool. You close your eyes as it brushes your cheek, feeling as if you were never awake; it's not so much the sense you're in a dream, but that you never took shape upon this universe at all, as if you were but a distant watcher high above or sideways. You are not tired, it does not weary you. You are like a river.

How fast the time, those years gone by, rolling like raindrops off your hair.

You remember the first times Vincent brought you here. When you both came just to look around, the time Vincent turned at the gate, holding up the keys with a sunshine smile; the day you spent moving in proper, your belongings in bags and boxes and suitcases, and shared the first meal at your new home. One could argue these instances lay along a single continuity of events, but to you it felt like something new every time, even at the same site with the same house by the same person. Monotony is not a guest in your life. The joy you feel about existing, combined with those not-awake liminal moments, apply constant renewal to your moments.

This is the fifteenth year of sunflowers. You step around the dacha to examine the flowerbeds behind it: already the stems are as tall as the fence, soon to tower over your head. As you lean in you notice one of the side-buds has grown too heavy for its stalk, and has snapped it and itself sideways. Nothing unusual in the grand scheme of things, but you are thankful you saw it in good time. You gently pull the stalk free. With any luck it might bloom in a bud-vase, or it'll bask in the sun by the window, eventually to become part of a dried bouquet. They're a good way to make use of what you find in your land or the forest - that, or the various flower-crowns Vincent is fond of making for you. In midsummer you'll often find him sitting outside, taking a break for lunch or watching the birds, idly weaving the colourful stems in his large warm hands. Roses, sunflowers, berry-blossoms in pink and white.

Life is beautiful. You and your beloved are encased in it.

---

When you come back indoors you find that Vincent is awake, his hands interlocked casually behind his head. You've probably been out for over half an hour, but he has not left the bed, nor is he remotely surprised that you've been roaming: he's only borne witness to this for about three decades, after all. Perhaps he was awake from the very beginning, perhaps not, but either way he knew exactly what was up. He grins sleepily in greeting, and you smile back, crossing the room to find a bud vase for your flower. "Gone adventuring, Seba?"

"Not nearly far enough for an adventure." A trickle of water, then in the sunflower goes, many-angled sunlight dancing within the glass. "Did I wake you?"

"No, but when I woke up you were gone." Vincent turns to lie on his side, his gaze softening. "I missed you."

Something vast and golden blossoms in your heart. You look at Vincent, unable to hold back your smile, the sort that feels almost like the precipice of tears; it's such a simple thing, to be missed when you are absent, another thing you are always surprised to feel. Nobody made you feel like that when you lived alone - a period that objectively wasn't long, and has been thrice outcompeted by the life you spent by Vincent's side - and that is the feeling that anchors you fully to the waking world again, as it has done so many times before.

"Well, no longer, I hope." You say, and slip carefully back into bed at once. Your body is cool from the outdoors, and for a moment you think your lover might not like that, only to be proven incorrect when he wraps you happily in the covers. "I'm right here, Vinco. I haven't gone away."

[playername-player-of-games]

Hii

I am asking you very niceys for a c!Hermes drabble /np (I love the way you write about tick /gen)

"Uhm...Hermes?"

"Hm?"

"Your uh- your shapeshifting," the faerie asks, wringing its lower set of hands together, "does it- can you only shift into those four beings?"

"No?" Hermes answers. "I can shift into anything I want, basically."

The faerie nods, red eyes unblinking as ever, "could you uhm. Could you try shifting into - into someone? For me?"

Hermes shares a glance with Ides, then with Wicker, who shrugs.

"I suppose I could," Hermes looks back to the faerie, who immediately perks up, its little ears flicking, "what exactly are you looking for?"

"Uhm I'm- I didn't think you'd say yes," it gives a nervous little laugh, gesturing to its antenna with its upper set of hands, "he's like- he's like me but- but bigger, uhm. Can you- can you be an endermite? And a bee, but also...also shaped like me?"

"I can try," Hermes answers, giving it a smile that tick hopes is reassuring. Tock gestures for the faerie to turn all the way around - it does. Tick begins to shift.

Four arms, a set of antenna, a set of broken wings. Within moments they hold up two sets of black and white hands - the pixie looks as if its about to be sick.

"Black turns purple," it says. "and white turns yellow," it points to its eyes, right first, then left, "eyes are - are yellow and red."

Tock nods, making adjustments. Black fur ripples over into purple scales, white turns fuzzy yellow. Tick blinks, changing their eyes. Their clothes shift as well, taking on the pixie's loose shirt and breeches, split black and white. A tail, thin as a whip with fluff at the end, curls around tock's ankle.

The faerie stares, unblinking.

"His wings are a little more put together," it whispers, no longer staring at Hermes but instead at...something else, something far away, "sky blue on the left and lavender on...on the right."

Then it goes quiet, hovering and unblinking.

Hermes shifts back into tickself, wings disintegrating into nothing and four arms melding back into two. Within moments they're Hermes again, purple jacket and green eyes. Tock waves a hand in front of the faerie's face.

"Apollo?"

It flinches, red eyes snapping up to meet green, "I'm not Apollo anymore."

"Sorry."

"No it's-" the faerie hovers back, closer to Wicker, "I should- I should be sorry. Uhm. Thank you for- for shifting, for me. That was. Thank you."

"Anytime," Hermes smiles. "Glad to be of service."

[dokoni-mo]

How it started: Man it’s kinda hot when Vader is choking that guy in ANH...

How it’s going: *Scouring the Darth Vader x reader tag*

Your work is beautiful by the way 💋

LMAOOOOOO NAHH BC THIS IS HOW IT WENT FOR ME TOO 💀💀 bro awoken smth in me for realll

BUT OMG TYSM!! im glad you enjoyed :)))

[kyoupann]

For the drabble requests, how about Hornet and Cloth interacting? (Those are my two HK faves)

Drabble requests open Please send a character and a word/sentence

Wandering through Hallownest in search of the one beast to be her last kept her mind occupied, kept it from dwelling on the painful memories of a past life she couldn't recognise as her own anymore. Cloth doesn’t go around looking for friends, she doesn’t have time to sit down and chit-chat. But there had been something about this creature clad in red that just compelled her to stop and be. They looked so small just sitting against the slab of what once was a column or maybe a bench. And she recognized it then, the look in her eyes; filled with fatigue and grief. And those were two things Cloth was too familiar with. So, she sat down next to the creature, keeping a safe distance. But still, she wanted to give this tiny creature all the encouragement she hadn’t had at the time; she wanted to do something for someone else.  She wanted to say: I get what you’re going through, it’s sad and awful. But it’s okay if you feel lost now, you’ll find a way to keep going. They didn’t need to know that she had found her reason to keep going in her own death. She wanted to say all this and yet, “It’s lovely around here, isn’t it?” is all that escaped her instead.

A little bit over the 100 word count but, here ya go! (: Just good old girlie Cloth trying to do the right thing even if unnecessary. Thanks for sending something! <3

[nitronapalm]

So Close Yet So Far Away

-{A little drabble I’ve wanted to write for a few days but haven’t cause I’ve been sick. I blame @pompedia for this. xD I’ve had BakuMari/DynaBug brainrot for a while now too.

Anyway, enjoy~! (Under the cut due to length.)

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Katsuki, or rather, Dynamight at the moment, settled down at the edge of a building, legs dangling off and pulling off the gauntlets to set them off to the side, only to pull out two sandwiches and toss one to his red with black spots-clad partner. Thankfully she caught it and didn’t fumble it, and he felt her settle in next to him after a moment, murmuring a “Thanks” in response before unwrapping it.

It wasn’t like he had to hide anything anymore, not since that whole ‘getting akumatized and blowing up half the city’ thing. The thought of it still made him cringe, but he took it better than he used to. It was freeing now that someone knew that both identities were the same person.

It was a comfortable silence, as most were when they were out on patrol together and they didn’t feel like talking much but still enjoyed each other’s company. Katsuki just took the chance to enjoy the breeze once he was done with his sandwich, listening to Ladybug finish off her own sandwich and watching her out of the corner of one eye while he shifted to rest one foot up on the ledge he was sitting on and rest his arm on it.

It was times like this that let him enjoy being Dynamight just as much as being able to kick akuma ass did. He could be himself, in whatever he wanted to do.

The comfortable silence persisted until he heard the telltale signs of nervous fidgeting to his left and let out a sigh as he shifted to turn towards the source -- which was, of course, Ladybug herself. “Alright, Spots, spit it out. What is it?” He knew if he didn’t confront her on it now, she’d just keep fidgeting over it and it’d interfere with her fighting and make her stupid clumsiness make her drop everything.

Which, quite honestly, he found endearingly cute... and now he needed to get those thoughts out of his head. He was not a fucking sap. He was not.

Aqua-colored eyes looked over at him. “What’s.... your type?”

That immediately got a blank stare from him. “Hah?”

“Your type! You know... the kind of person you like.” Vibrant blue-greens refused to look at him and she was fidgeting even more.

Now he could definitely feel his ears starting to go warm. Where the fuck had this come from? It had him staring at her for a second before he shifted to drop his leg so it was hanging down with the other one, turning more towards her. “S’this cause of that cat fucker again?”

That one had her waving her arms almost frantically with a flush. “No! I mean... I was curious, you never seemed interested in anyone, so I wanted to know.”

Katsuki eyed her for another minute before letting out a sigh, shifting to lean back on his hands and tilt his head back to stare up at the sky, musing on that for a few minutes as his expression smoothed out, turning thoughtful. The type he liked, huh... he’d never really thought about it, never really needed to.

“Someone I can count on to have my back,” he said finally. “In both a fight and whatever the fuck else. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell someone the fuck off ‘cause they’re being a fucking moron or doing stupid shit, but also not afraid to stick their neck out to help someone if they gotta.” He gave a hum. “Someone who can see me for me and not as an asshole or an arrogant dickwad like most people seem to fucking see me as but is also not afraid to call me out on my shit or kick my ass into gear when I need it.” Someone who let him be himself and didn’t try to change him into their idea of what he should be, that just took him for who he was and what he’d already become and just let him be what and who he wanted to be.

Which, now that he thought about it, Marinette and Ladybug both fit...

And whatever he’d been on the cusp of figuring out slipped away yet again, as it had many, many times before and frustrated him to no end. It was like he held an ancient artifact and was about to discover its secrets when it just crumbled to dust seconds before he learned the truth of it.

Eyebrows furrowed slightly in annoyance before he shook his head and looked over at Ladybug, only to find her staring at him with what he could swear was a flush on her face and the most mesmerized look he’d ever seen on her.

He only had to stare at her for a few seconds -- during which he wondered if she’d always had freckles or had he just not noticed those? -- before she seemed to snap out of it with a jolt, and it was at that point he decided to add, “Your turn, Spots.”

A few confused blinks were returned at him from behind a red-spotted mask. “Huh?”

“To spill, obviously. You know my type, now time to spill yours.”

“EH?!” This time he was sure it was a darker flush that spread on her face, which had one corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Ah -- b-but -- what if it gets into some tabloid or rumor or something--”

Crimson eyes rolled at that, Katsuki letting out a huff. “You make it sound like I’d go running and fucking telling everyone, idiot. ‘M not a fucking moron, I wouldn’t fucking do that.”

“I... w-well, yeah, I know that, but--”

One eyebrow quirked. “But what?”

“It’s embarrassing!” She covered her face with her hands and again the word cute flickered through his mind, which he internally waved off.

He was not a goddamn sap, damn it.

This time it was an exasperated sigh that left him. “Could just fucking say you don’t wanna tell me, y’know.” Although why did that leave him so disappointed?

She stayed where she was for a minute before finally lowering her hands, looking thoughtful, and it let him stare at her again while she stayed silent, finally looking over at him again, mouth open to speak before she stopped, and.... when had they gotten so close? He could actually count her freckles with how close they were right now...

The ash blonde actually found himself doing that now, leaning closer right before scarlet met aqua, although instead of moving away, something just had him leaning further forward until he felt their breaths mingle, and holy shit did she always have that many colors in her eyes--

A sound of a click and a flash snapped him out of it and immediately had him jerking backwards, feeling his ears go very warm now, at the same time hearing Ladybug make a shrieking squawk he could swear he’d definitely heard before.

“Ohhhh my God, this is amaziiiiing,” he heard a familiar voice say in a singsong tone. “Dynamight and Ladybug almost kissing, oh my GOD.”

“CHLOE!” he heard Ladybug yell, “Don’t you dare post that anywhere--”

“Too late~!”

He only vaguely registered the two of them -- had he really almost kissed Ladybug?!

Fuck. FUCK.

Did that mean he actually liked her?!

Oh God, he really was a sap.

Fuuuuuuck.

He finally cleared his throat, brain still rebooting for the most part. “We should get back to patrolling.”

“Uhm, yeah. ....We should,” Ladybug agreed, hesitantly.

Katsuki just pulled his bracers back on and took off without another word, no bye to the other blonde or anything; he just wanted out of there so he could at least try to get his thoughts in order, although it was reassuring to hear the other set of footsteps nearby not long after.

Even if the rest of the patrol left a not-so-comfortable silence between them after that.

[boyfrillish]

OMFG my head is super fried from lack of sleep but I just wrote over 900 words in a bit over an hour ADGAADFGADh the power of the silliest of silly fluffs, silly fluff of The OTP as personal bday treat from me for me ✨🥰💜❤

[obsesssedblerd]

“Oh, Nanaminnnn!” 

At the familiar, cheery voice, Kento looks up to see no one other than Satoru Gojo, leaning against the doorframe of his office with his usual grin. “Saw with my Six Eyes that you came to fill out those reports here instead of doing it from home. Been so long since you showed your face here and—” He cuts himself off with an excited gasp, then walks closer as his smile grows wider. “You brought my little mochi!”

In Kento’s left arm, his daughter—who had woken up from her nap about ten minutes ago—coos excitedly when Satoru enters her vision, reaching her hands towards him. “Well, hello there, sweetheart! I was wondering when I’d see you again!” He slides his hands under her plush arms, then picks her up, skillfully—and safely, Kento notes—holding her in his arms. Tiny hands brush against Satoru’s blindfold, and he lifts it so his niece can see his blue eyes. They immediately soften when the baby girl laughs when he gently tickles her tummy. 

It’s so cute that Kento can’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting. 

“Wait—Did I hear that right?! Nanamin’s here?!” 

“Itadori, wait for us!” 

“Kugisaki, you dropped your bag—Oh, come on, guys, slow down!” 

Rapid footsteps approach, then the three first years appear at the door, gasping in unison. 

“Oh, my gosh!” Yuuji, the pink-haired teenager shouts as he points at the baby in Satoru’s arms. “Nanamin, when did you have a baby?!” 

Nobara’s question comes a split-second after Yuuji’s is finished. “Is that why [Y/L/N]-sensei quit a while ago?!” 

Megumi walks to stand beside Satoru to analyze the little bundle in his teacher’s arms. “She’s… adorable.” He mumbles, gently smiling when she wraps her hand around his finger. “Very adorable. She has [Y/L/N]-sensei’s laugh.”

“Isn’t she just so precious?” Satoru asks, proudly showing her off to the first years. “So sweet and friendly, just like her Uncle Gojo.” 

“Hopefully she won’t be as reckless as you,” Kento says as he holds his hands out, and Satoru returns his daughter to him. “[Y/N] and I already believe that she’ll be the exact opposite of me.” 

Yuuji sits beside Kento to get a closer look at her. “She’s so cute. How old is she, Nanamin?” 

“Four months as of yesterday.” 

Nobara crosses her arms and pouts. “How come only he knew?” She asks, gesturing to Satoru. 

“Well, when I had to go away on a long mission, she was only a month old,” Kento explains. “He kept an eye on her and [Y/N] for me; made sure that they were both safe. I’m very grateful. We had plans to tell you about our daughter soon.” 

“Where is she now?” Megumi asks. 

“At home. I wanted her to have the morning and most of the afternoon to herself. I’ll be heading back shortly.” 

Satoru and the students share similar looks with each other, and Kento knows what they want to ask. He pulls out his phone and dials your number. “Hi, baby,” you greet when the line connects, “how’s our girl?” 

“Hi, love. She’s amazing, as always,” he says as he looks down, playfully poking the little one’s nose. “I’m with Gojo and our students. They want to know if it’s alright to come and see you.” 

“We’ll cook dinner if you’re too tired!” Nobara chimes in hopefully.

“Actually, better yet, I can just order something for everyone,” Satoru suggests. 

“And we’ll clean up,” Yuuji and Megumi say at the same time. 

You laugh, then answer Kento, “That’s more than alright. Bring them here.” 

“Thought you’d say that. See you in a bit.” 

“Yes!” Yuuji cheers. “Alright, I’m gonna ride with Nanamin so I can sit next to the baby!” 

Nobara glares at him. “Not if I get to the car first!!” 

When they sprint out the door, Megumi groans before rushing after them. “Didn’t I just tell you guys to slow down? We’re going to the same place!” 

Satoru laughs, then waits for Kento to finish up so they can walk out together. 

—

there was an ask in my inbox requesting a cute drabble for dad! nanami ft. gojo (as a trusted friend of his) and the first years, but it disappeared. hope u like it, anon <3 

[faithfulcat111]

idk if its been too long but trick or treat!!! 👻 🎃

It has not!!! A little three sentence fic for you:

Ghosts flickered at the edges of his vision as he hummed along to the catchy tune coming from Diego's radio. He could feel Ben's eyes rolling from the backseat just as strongly as he could feel Diego batting his legs down from the dashboard. He kept pushing though, determined to get a good distraction in from this hellish night.