#this is just a snippet tho

[sorryiliketoscreenshot]

➣ Appreciation Post ››› Connor's Eyes

[awriternamedart]

Narukami Yu wasn't the touchy type. He wasn't against it or anything, it just wasn't really his vibe most of the time.

That was, until Hanamura Yosuke came into his life.

Yosuke wasn't a big touchy person by any means— he was actually pretty distanced from a lot of the people around him. Chie, Yukiko— he rarely came into physical contact with them. Even when Kanji, Teddie, Rise, and Naoto came into the picture, his gestures never went beyond fistbumps or the occasional handshake.

In fact, the most he had really noticed was that he was okay with giving Nanako a piggyback ride.

Which is why, when Naoto came up to him as they were finishing up preparations with that simple observation, it threw Yu for a loop.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Hanamura is far closer to you then the rest of the group." They said, rather plainly. It was if they were stating just simple fact, like 'you can breathe air.' "You and him often exist in each others personal space. I'm surprised you two don't have a duel tactic like Amagi and Satonaka, or him and Teddie."

Yu had kind of blanked on them, admittedly, humming noncommittally before Naoto turned the subject back to their tactics for battle. But it had circulated around in his mind, suddenly becoming far more aware of his partner's antics.

Like whenever they were idling at Junes' for some reason, Yosuke would be leaning towards him, if not on him if Yu was sitting down. Or he'd sidle right next to him and elbow him in the side to get his attention, or constantly be next to him whenever they were resting or sitting or in preparation phases. It was a little embarrassing as he became so aware of how close Yosuke simply just resided near him— but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Until he realized Yosuke had stopped.

It was strange. There was this chill that seemed to permeate when he first noticed it. It began not long after Naoto had brought it up to him, when Yosuke seemed to suddenly disappear from his side. It wasn't that far away, he was still nearby, but now there was this distance. It was unfamiliar, chilling.

He didn't like it. Not one bit.

Yosuke seemed surprised when Yu divvied up the exploration team into pairs this time around, and took Yosuke with him. It wasn't meant to be any sort of serious mission, he was just looking for some items for some people, but when even Rise and Teddie were paired up to scope out the place, it was a little concerning.

Especially when Yu took Yosuke as his partner for this investigation.

They were barely a few rooms in when Yu suddenly pulled them to a stop for a break. Yosuke had barely even broken a sweat from the two fights they had gotten into, wiping his blades clean as he looked to his partner, who had sheathed his own blade and set it aside.

"You good, partner? If I didn't know better, I'd say you made up a ruse for us to hang out!" He had to poke fun a little, but genuine concern colored his voice. Yu cracked a faint smile at that before he set his sword down. "Seriously, Yu— whats going on-!?"

His voice taped off into a small squeak when Yu suddenly collapsed on top of him, arms loosely wrapped around Yosuke's waist. A small sigh escaped him as he shoved his face into Yosuke's shoulder with a faint murmured apology.

"Sorry."

"Woah-hahah- a little close there, Yu— the others, they could— you uh- you— whats going on-?" Yosuke scrambled to gather his words, idly pushing on Yu's body to no avail. He gave up after a few seconds, stiffly just standing still, "Seriously, whats with you??"

Yu seemed to pause for a second, though he didn't budge much. If anything, his embrace got tighter.

"You've been avoiding me."

Yosuke flinched immediately, and Yu knew he had hit the nail on the head. So it had been purposeful.

"Geez, you- you noticed that..?" Yosuke murmured, ears turning a vibrant red. before his voice got a little bit louder. "Whaddya mean, partner? I haven't— been avoiding you. I'm right here!"

Yu stood up just enough to give Yosuke an unimpressed look, he had heard him clear as day, and Yosuke took all but two seconds to crumble, sheepishly folding his arms as Yu finally stepped away.

"Sorry, partner— I thought you wouldn't notice.."

"So you were avoiding me." Yu put his hands in his pockets, bangs drifting as he tilted his head to the side.

"I wasn't avoiding. I was just— putting more distance so you weren't uncomfortable!" He stumbled over his words, trying to brush his hair out of his face. "Naoto asked me about it so I figured you must look uncomfortable or something, so I just—"

"Did I ever say I was?"

Yosuke's face got redder.

"N-no, but—.. no. No, you never said anything." He gave up trying to defend himself under Yu's pointblank stare, hanging his head. Yu at least chuckled a little, getting Yosuke to glare at him— which only got amusement in return.

"What did Naoto say? They only mentioned that you were closer to me then the rest of the group when they talked to me." Yu had to admit he was a little curious. While Naoto was a valuable asset to the team and was only attempting to connect by sharing their examinations, Yu knew Yosuke would probably overthink it just that little bit.

"Sh- they only said somethin about me only really bein touchy with you. Or something like that." He looked to the side, pushing his headphones up a little. "It was a- wait, they said something to you as well?"

Yu nodded.

"They had mentioned to me their surprise that we didn't have a joint attack, and that you and Teddie instead had one instead of me and you." He rolled his neck a little, before looking bacl to Yosuke with some sort of forlorn look on his face. "Can I hug you again?"

"Wh— dude, seriously?!"

"You haven't been near me in a week and a half. I miss you." Yu's plainspoken nature never failed to throw Yosuke off guard. He said whatever he wanted to, with this same sort of smoothness that made it seem like no matter what the words were, he was going to be right. Yosuke could only stare at him blankly, cheeks burning a brighter red by the second, before he relented under Yu's stare, groaning.

"…you can't say stuff like that, partner." He put his arms out, Yu's face lighting up with the barest shift in his calm expression. Almost immediately he was melting back into Yosuke, this time his face nearing Yosuke's neck, arms tighter as Yosuke hesitantly put his hands on Yu's back. "Not to me.."

"Why not? Its the truth. Why would I deny you the truth?" Yu was genuine, but he couldn't see the scarlet that drowned Yosuke's face and neck, the tips of his ears matching the rosy red as his heart raced, faster then he had even at the riverbank. He didn't respond to Yu's question, instead just curling his hands into fists and holding onto Yu's school uniform jacket.

Hate it as he may, he had missed their casual intimacy too.

-

Casual Touch - awriternamedart

p4g has gripped me so tight im about to pop its not funny anymore

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The hero let out a wet groan, pushing themselves up as the blood ran down their side. It was in itself a funny feeling.

It was a good feeling.

Absolutely no one in this rotten city was able to challenge them. Physically, they were stronger. Mentally, they were quicker. And their dedication, their devotion was like a holy prayer that guided them through their nights.

The hero knew it wasn't a good thing - the longing for a challenge, the desire for an opponent that could actually make them a better fighter. It was a dangerous wish and they had to remind themselves regularly why they were doing this job in the first place.

To do good. To be good. Not to find someone who was their very own nemesis.

However, with the villain's boot on their ribs and that brutal nature of theirs, the hero was struggling not to find this utterly satisactory.

"Yeah, right there," the hero wheezed. "Make me scream."

The villain tilted their head and tutted, nearly bored of the hero's games. They let out a sigh and grabbed the hero's hair, yanking them up.

Another wheeze.

And the villain crouched, holding the hero by their hair. Very close. Very intimate.

"Do you think I am stupid?" the villain asked. Their lips brushed the hero's ear and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, the hero could only concentrate on the adrenaline rushing through their body.

"No," the hero said. They had to grin. Sometimes, they wished they could devour the villain, that they could change them and ultimately, that they could control them.

The hero knew it wasn't right. They knew it wasn't good. But they had never felt this kind of obsession towards anyone. In previous relationships, they hadn't gotten jealous, they hadn't gotten angry. They had never struggled like this. They had never doubted themselves like this.

"I know your dirty little secret," the villain said. "I know you like me. You like this."

"I didn't try to hide it," the hero said.

"Not from me. But the public."

"What are you trying to...?"

"Oh, poor hero," the villain murmed. "See, the difference between you and me is, that I do not care about you. If this gets to one, just one flimsy reporter, the people will turn against you. I can ruin your entire career. Your entire life."

The hero had miscalculated. Obviously, they hadn't expected their nemesis to feel the same. But they also hadn't expected them to tell the public. To use the public against the hero. It was a little shameless. But the hero was even more disgusted by their admiration for it.

"So?" the hero asked. Losing the public was a detrimental loss, that much was clear. But was it even measurable next to the fights with the villain? Did it even matter? When the hero could feel this euphoric? This alive? When had the public ever made them feel that way? "I would still have you."

"I do not love you," the villain argued. "You're not as important to me as you think."

"Give it some time," the hero said. "You will love me, don't worry. Everyone does."

The villain simply laughed at that. It was nearly soft. Or maybe the hero wanted it to be. It didn't matter.

"I have to admit, I am quite interested in what you have in store for me. How will you act once the public calls you a traitor? What will you do when I refuse to fight you? You are-" with their index finger, the villain traced the hero's thoat "-so very unique."

"Is that attraction?"

"Obligatory interest."

"And you say you're not in love."

They stared at each other until, finally, the villain dropped them. They cleared their throat and tilted their head. But the hero swallowed blood when their head nearly smashed against the concrete floor.

"I like toying with you, that is all."

"Sure," the hero said. They clutched their heart, tried to breathe. Being close to the villain was a gift, no matter how much it hurt. The hero loved it, loved their words, loved their personality, loved the challenge. It was insane, the hero felt completely deranged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

And the hero was excited. So very excited for the next weeks.

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[the-broken-pen]

love your writing yo can I ask for a little hurt-comfort mlm

“Oh. Oh. That’s—that’s a lot of blood,” the voice above him sounded strangled, like they were choking on every word.

The hero cracked an eye open, dizzy and cold and tired, and hummed something that could have been an agreement.

“Hey,” he said, voice raw, and his friend stifled a sob as they collapsed onto their knees at his side.

Their hands pressed hesitantly against the wound, and they were trembling. His hands were slick with blood. It took everything in them to drag them, shaking, to rest on top of his friends, and press down hard.

The pained noise he made caught in the back of his throat. Just barely.

“You have to press harder,” he managed. The pain had swelled to something almost unbearable. He was drowning in it, to the point where it was almost the kind of pain where it became something wretched, something else that swallowed you whole. “The bleeding, it—“ he had to stop, gasping for a breath.

His friend had started crying, but they pressed harder, dutifully. He loved them for it.

“I don’t know what to do,” they sobbed. “You don’t do hospitals. What do I do.”

He let go of his friends hand, digging for his pocket. His grip slipped the first two times; he managed it on the third, sliding his phone onto his stomach.

“Speed dial,” he offered, and closed his eyes before the look on his friend’s face made him vomit.

“Speed dial? Speed dial. Okay. Okay,” his friend said. “It’s fine. Everything is fine.” He was certain his friend wasn’t saying it to him. Their free hand scrambled for his phone.

By the time they managed to get it to ring, the world around him had turned into something muffled and cotton around him.

“You? You’re his speed dial—don’t…I don’t know what….bleeding…not responding…please, just….”

A crack cleaved the air, the smell of ozone suddenly stronger than the smell of his own suffering, and then a hand was replacing his friend’s. The other found the side of his face, thumb curving under his jaw.

“Hey,” and oh, he knew that voice—something raw in his chest eased. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

He managed, just barely, and the villain peered down at him.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“You’re bleeding out,” the villain said, and it was the softest he’d ever heard him. “You need care, or you’re going to die. Can I move you?”

Do you trust me?

“Always,” he tried, but it came out weak and desperate.

The villain pressed harder, and he keened high and pained in the back of his throat. On instinct, his hand darted up to the villain’s wrist, latching on too tight for anyone without superpowers to handle. The villain didn’t flinch.

“You’re okay,” the villain murmured. His thumb brushed over the hero’s jaw, soothing.

There was something the hero was forgetting—

“My friend,” he choked out. “Where—are they—where—“ he struggled to sit up, and the villain simply guided him back down.

“They’re fine,” the villain promised. “I sent them home. Maybe a little traumatized, but they’re okay.”

“Okay.” The hero nodded to himself, or he tried, or he didn’t. “Okay. They’re okay, okay, I’m—“

“Okay,” the villain finished for him, and even half sick in pain the hero could tell he was intentionally keeping his voice easy. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

His hand shifted underneath the hero’s back.

“Breathe for me?” The hero tried, and managed a half wheeze. The villain just nodded. “Good. This is gonna suck.”

His other hand wormed its way underneath the hero’s knees. He blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision, and the villain stared at him. Barely disguised concern was written into every inch of him, like the only thing his bones could remember was panic. For him.

The villain was scared for him.

That was bad.

“What’s going to suck—“

The villain hauled him upwards, and his vision went white.

He woke up some time later, chest heavy and head floating somewhere above his body.

He hummed something that might have been a question, and the villain was above him in an instant.

“Are you in pain?”

The hero blinked at him for a moment. Mostly because he couldn’t really remember how to do anything else. The world felt sluggish. A second delayed behind normal. Which should have been concerning, panic worth and world ending, but it simply just…was.

“No,” he said finally, and his voice sounded weird. His throat ached, separated from him by a wall of warmth. “I was screaming?”

The villain swallowed, hard, and the hero managed to drag his gaze down to the needle and thread clutched in the villain’s hand.

“Yeah.” The villain sounded like he was choking on the words. “You were screaming.”

He opened his eyes whendidheclosethem and peered upwards again. He was on a couch. Or a bed? Bed, he decided a second later. The villain was kneeling next to him, and there was something soft tucked around his legs. He went to sit up, look down at his stomach; the villain’s hand came up to rest on his forehead, gently keeping him down. He must have made some noise of displeasure, because a moment later, the villain’s hand carded through his hair.

“Easy,” he murmured, focusing back onto the hero’s side. He heard the snip of thread; the sound of the villain throwing something onto a side table without care.

“What did you give me?” The hero’s tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“Lots,” the villain said.

“Lots,” he said back, managing to sound more incredulous than he actually cared to feel at the moment, and the villain snorted. “Haven’t heard of that one before.”

“Had to make something special for the boy wonder,” the villain smoothed a hand down his side, and the hero half leaned into it. Mostly he managed to sink further into the mattress. “You burn through shit fast, you know?”

The hero did know. He knew very well, unfortunately.

“Thanks,” he managed. His head lolled to the side without his permission, resting against the villain’s arm.

“You’re going to pass out again,” the villain informed him. He made a noise in the back of his throat that could have meant anything. The villain seemed to understand regardless.

Am not, he tried to say.

The haze of medication and blood loss stole him first.

The next time he woke, he was half sprawled against the villain’s side. Something cold was set onto his cheek, and he reached up to remove it, hand clumsy. The villain caught it before he managed to remove anything.

“You spiked a fever,” he said quietly. “I just got it back down. That’s probably why you woke up. How are you feeling?”

That was…a lot.

“No pain,” he said eventually. He thought he felt the villain give a heavy sigh of relief.

The world was clearing itself up bit by bit, settling the furniture back into the correct places until it no longer felt like things were sliding around him.

The villain’s hand was back into his hair again.

“Good,” the villain said, but the hero wasn’t really sure it was meant for him.

Something in his chest loosened.

“I thought I was going to die,” he admitted, and he wished his tongue was still numb, because the villain stilled, hand curled in his hair.

“That’s not what you told your friend.”

And yeah, the hero half remembered the pieces of that. A promise he was okay. Everything would be fine. He was always fine, wasn’t he? How strongly do you have to will to will someone to stay. Exactly how many pounds of force does it take to stop someone from bleeding out—

There was a chill curling itself around his ribs.

“I thought I was going to die,” his voice was raw. It wasn’t because of his throat. He sounded afraid, even to himself.

“I would never have let you do that,” he managed a moment later. His hand resumed in his hair.

And somehow, despite the knowledge of how hard it truly was to save someone, how long it took to learn that kind of information, the knowing of exactly what was survivable and what couldn’t be escaped, how strong you had to be to shift through rubble—the hero believed him.

“I know,” he said, because the villain had to know. That he believed him. That he would always believe him.

He melted into the villain’s side.

I trust you, I trust you, I trust you

The villain hummed, in that way of his that told him he understood exactly what the hero couldn’t vocalize.

“I’m your #1 speed dial?” He questioned after a moment.

The hero huffed a laugh.

“You’re my only speed dial.”

The villain froze.

And then he was shifting, pulling the hero closed to him. The villain tucked him close, chin settling onto the top of his head. The hero pressed his face into the hollow of the villain’s neck.

“I will always come,” he said, and this time, his voice was the one that was raw. “You call, and I will be there.”

He said it like it was easy. Like it was that simple.

Maybe it was.

Maybe for them it always had been.

A fondness he couldn’t put words too settled onto his shoulders.

He simply breathed into the villain’s neck, and the villain’s arms looped around him a bit tighter.

“You’re okay,” the villain said into his hair. Like he was confirming it.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re lucky you have super healing.”

“I’m lucky I have you.”

The villain laughed softly.

“Suck up.”

“And what? You gonna stop me?”

He could practically feel the eye roll. “Been trying for years. Hasn’t stuck.”

“Well, you had the perfect opportunity—“

The villain hushed him.

“Just. Shhh for a bit,” he said softly.

The hero, obediently, shhh’ed.

The villain’s hand ran through his hair again, and his eyes shuttered closed, settling further against the villain’s chest.

“Cheater,” he murmured, and the villain huffed a laugh, but didn’t deign a response.

And together, comfortably, curled around one another like two halves of a whole, they just breathed.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.

oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.

and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.

so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.

(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)

and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!

and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.

then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???

so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.

(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)

soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.

he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.

and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.

(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)

and the rest is... well.

you know how it ends.

[solaestial]

more rpgmaker experimentation with a potential little scenario :>

[teehee-vibes]

Finally started listening to Riptide, new hyperfixation just dropped

[syluses]

Ngl the new caleb ficlet im workin on might break me (and you guys 🥲)

Prepare thyself :,)

[wikiangela]

several sentence sunday

so this is another fic I started on my vacation (I started three, and had one idea I haven't started yet lol - and one is already posted) - also, the two weeks here might change bc I'm struggling with the timeline (which doesn't matter but also it does lol) but I'll figure it out haha

(I'm still writing all my other wips btw, and gonna get to all the asks, but the writing beans have been gone lately, and I've been too exhausted lol - and my brain is so all over the place with my wips, idk what I wanna get to more)

___

Evan knows he’s in love with Tommy about two weeks into their relationship.

(...)

They still barely know each other, but Evan knows. He can’t explain why, can’t explain how, he just knows. Tommy Kinard is it for him.

The moment he realizes it with utmost clarity is nothing special, really. He just spent the night at Tommy’s – not the first one, but it’s still new enough to fill him with nervous, giddy excitement, butterflies swirling in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt in years before Tommy. Everything about Tommy makes him feel like this. Tommy’s eye-crinkling, nose-scrunching adorable smile; Tommy’s eyes, always so fond when he looks at him; Tommy’s lips that taste so amazing Buck never wants to stop kissing him; Tommy’s big, big hands that feels so good in Buck’s, those strong arms and broad shoulders… – just everything about Tommy. At first Buck thought it’s the newness of this, of Tommy, of knowing about his bisexuality. But he’s also gotten so comfortable with Tommy in such a short time, and it doesn't even really feel new anymore, he knows it must be just him, must be Tommy making him feel like a giddy teen with a crush. Except the way this feels… Buck’s a grown man with tons of experience, and he knows how infatuation feels, how a simple crush and attraction feels, how real love feels. And he knows, deep down in his core, in his soul, in his heart, that this is real, that this is definitely more than a crush. This is what love feels like.

___

no pressure tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed):

@dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss @pirrusstuff @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazheartsbuckley @giddyupbuck @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @your-catfish-friend @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @beyourownanchor6 @weewootruck @kirkaut @jewishbuckley @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @reformedplayerbibuck @spotsandsocks @bucked-it-up @theotherbuckley @drcloyd @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @girlwonder-writes @perfectlysunny02 @dadbodbuck

[kikimorart]

lil sketch i made for martch day 20: love. none of my ocs are in relationships and i'm not that huge into shipping in general, so i went with familial love.

5 year old kirik trying to copy the work of his caretaker, agafia.

[prince-liest]

my toxic character trait is that I think I'm so fucking funny

[hella1975]

Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

anything in taob from tomnook’s perspective but specifically the original soup scene

1. Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

decided to add this to the taob one-shots on ao3 but here's a snippet this was soooo fun i forgot how much i love these idiots <3

“I’d rather take my chances with the firebender,” Kanut grumbled, before nodding towards Tomkin and Nanook. “Especially since Dumb and Dumber over here either blubbered their way through the fight or fell unconscious.”

read the full one-shot here :)

[bmpmp3]

RECENTLY IVE BEEN really into the idea of making up "fanunits" for vocal synths akin to what we do with love live characters, like fanmade duos, trios, other unofficial groups and like playing with what kind of names and outfits they could have and what kinds of songs would fit their vibes..... ive got a bunch of sticky notes all over the place full of little unofficial groups like this now.... holds out my hand. play toys with me.

[wikitpowers]

cassie after posting kit's letter really be like:

[quadrantadvisor]

This post reminded me of the time I got entranced by the idea of in-universe rpf and wrote an "excerpt" of a hypothetical accidental selfcest fanfic.

The Lore tm is that in a universe where Bernard never met Tim, he became a prolific Capes RPF writer as well as conspiracy theorist, and that the popularity of the Bruce Wayne/Batman ship gave him the fun idea of pairing up the Wayne kids with Batclan counterparts, which lined up surprisingly well! Tim, who frequents the Gotham Capes RPF tag for normal reasons (as a kid he wrote a surpisingly popular series of gen fics where his self insert oc got adopted by Batman, he was like 11 don't judge him) sees this fic and finds certain details, such as, y'know, shipping his family members with themselves, highly suspicious. He must investigate this person and find out how much they know.

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[...]

“What are you doing here, Nightwing?” Officer Grayson sighed. He looked tired, the hero noted. He understood that. A city like this could make a man tired in his soul. “The case is over. There's no reason to see eachother anymore.”

It didn't take long for Nightwing to find a reason. “There's no Batman in Bludhaven,” he said. “I need to take allies where I can get them, and you… I think you're in the same boat.” He remembered the photos of young, pretty Richie Grayson, smiling in the tabloids,  and thought about how the force could beat down someone like that. “I know you want to make Bludhaven a better place. We can keep helping eachother, working together. We need eachother.” That was all true. But none of it was why Nightwing had come to the officer's apartment balcony.

Grayson rubbed a hand over his face. “I don't think you understand how much trouble I could be in. If the other officers found out I was slipping information to a vigilante…” He frowned, the dark circles beneath his eyes even more pronounced with the expression. “They don't trust you.”

“Do you?” Nightwing couldn't help but ask.

Grayson clenched his jaw, and his gaze on Nightwing became piercing. Looking at him, the vigilante knew—he had been beaten down, but not broken. His free spirit compressed into something stronger, harder. There was fire in his eyes. “I don't know,” the officer said, “should I?”

In some ways, the display of dominance was adorable, and Nightwing couldn't help flashing his signature sharp grin. “You can,” he promised. “It's up to you. But I could show you.” He hopped onto the balcony's railing with his inhuman grace, and held out his hand. “If you put your trust in me, I'll make it worth your while.”

The man looked dubious, gaze flicking from Nightwing's shielded eyes to his outstretched hand. “How?”

“You used to be an acrobat, didn't you, officer?” the hero asked.

Grayson looked away. “That was a long time ago.’”

“Well,” said Nightwing, still grinning that wicked grin, teeth flashing in the dim light, “how would you like to really fly?”

The officer's eyes went wide, and for a moment, Nightwing worried he would close the door, shut him out, and it would all be over. Then a determined look swept over him, and he stepped forward, reaching out.

Grayson's hand slipped into his, and Nightwing took the leap.

[...]

End notes:

😭 why did you have to become a cop richie how am i meant to acab like this????

like yes cops are Bastard but like. Richie Grayson was an outlier and should not have been counted. he's perfect your honor. he's never done anything wrong in his whole life. no one tell me otherwise pls

also nightwing is some kind of fae creature but don't worry about that