#I wrote this for a friend

[elementaldoughnut12]

"My Boyfriend Is A Cute Nerd"

*Warning this does involve CM Punk and if you don't like don't read! I made this for a friend so be nice!*

*This fluffy punkintyre fic is for my friend @thlayli-ra ! Hope you enjoy!*

Punk was a bit worried to keep it short. He was wandering around the nearly empty arena for his boyfriend Drew. “Drew! Where are you sweetheart?” Punk yells out with no response in return. Him and Drew were just casually eating and sitting on some crates in the hallway when Drew yelled “dammit!” and covered his mouth. Punk asked him what was wrong but Drew just ran away without saying anything. 

Now, Punk is still walking around and trying to find his boyfriend. “How the fuck do I lose a tall, burly Scotsman?” Punk says to himself. The last place he hasn't looked yet was their shared dressing room. He walked to the door and opened it up a bit to see if Drew was in there. He saw Drew was in there but was frantically rummaging through his gym bag. “Come on! Where is it?” Drew says worryingly. 

Punk watches as Drew sighs in relief but then his eyes widen in shock when he sees Drew pull out a tiny white bag. “Drew?” Punk says as he goes into the room. Drew's eyes widen in shock as he tries to hide the bag behind his back. “Are you using cocaine?!?” Punk asks as he walks towards Drew. “No! It's not what it looks like I swear!” Drew says truthfully as Punk gets in his face. 

���Gimme the bag Drew” Punk says seriously as he puts his hand out. Drew gulps knowing he isn't gonna win this argument and shakily gives Punk the bag. “Seriously Drew! You're an amazing wrestler! There's no reason you need… rubber bands?” Punk questions as he looks at the bag. It says “Dental Bands” with a green turtle logo on the front. 

“Why do you have dental bands babe?” Punk asks curiously as he looks at Drew. “You're gonna l-leave me if I told you!” Drew says through tears as he covers his mouth. Sensing his boyfriend was actually upset about what he would think about, Punk puts Drew's face in between his hands. “I would never leave you for some silly rubber bands babe” he says truthfully as he looks into Drew's eyes. “You promise?” Drew says quietly. “I promise” Punk says as he kisses Drew's forehead.

Drew sighs as he removes his hand and gives Punk an awkward smile. Now Punk understands why Drew has rubber bands, his boyfriend has braces. Two rows of metal run along Drew's teeth with silver and blue brackets topping them. “You have braces?” Punk says as lets out a little laugh. “You're making fun of me!” Drew says as he tries to get away from Punk. “No I'm not! It's actually kind of cute!” Punk says truthfully. 

“Really? You're not gonna leave me because of this?” Drew asks curiously. “Why would I leave you? I had braces when I was a kid” Punk says as he strokes Drew's cheek. “You might think I'm a nerd” Drew says as he looks away. “Wow! I may be an asshole but I would never leave you cause you look like a nerd” Punk says as he pretends to be offended, causing Drew to laugh. “Can I put my regular clothes on now?” Drew says through laughter. 

“Yeah yeah! Go on and put on your sexy dilf clothes!” Punks jokes, causing Drew to blush and grab his bag to change in the bathroom. “So all those times you got suspended you were actually getting fitted for those?” Punk says as he scrolls through his phone. “Yeah! I couldn't afford them when I was younger so I thought I'd finally get them so I can finally show my teeth when I smile when they get taken off!” Drew says truthfully from the bathroom.

“Why didn't you tell me you were getting them?” Punk asks curiously. “I didn't want you to worry about me! Plus I didn't wanna distract you from focusing on Summerslam!” Drew says as Punk hears him zip something. “You're just excited that you're gonna get your ass kicked by the best in the world!” Punk says smugly. “In your dreams babe! Ok I'm done!” Drew says as he walks out the bathroom. 

“Great! Are you ready to go… oh wow” Punk says in shock as he looks at Drew. Drew had his hair up in a low ponytail and he was wearing black rimmed glasses with thick lenses. He was also wearing a green shirt with a pixelated picture of Zelda and Link on the front with a pair of purple sweatpants with a retro MTV logo on the side and a pair of blue Converse. To top it all off he was wearing a black fanny-pack around his waist. Punk thought Drew looked absolutely adorable. 

“Punk? You ok?” Drew asks worryingly, interrupting Punk from his thoughts. Punk just smiles as he walks up to Drew and gives him a quick kiss. “Sometimes I forget how cute you are when you have your glasses on” he says affectionately, causing Drew to blush. “C-Can you help me put my bands in? My other one snapped when we were eating earlier and that's why I ran away” Drew says shyly. Punk forgot he still had Drew's bag in his hand and smirked at him. 

Without warning, Punk gently pushes Drew onto the bench and straddles his waist. “Open wide!” Punk says with a smile as he opens the bag. Drew blushes immensely but opens his mouth regardless. Punk pulls out a rubber band and gently hooks it on the back brackets of Drew's braces. “There you go beautiful” Punk says with a wink, causing Drew to blush even more. He then leans in and kisses Drew deeply. He feels Drew whimper under him as his tongue rubs against the metal brackets. 

“Ready to go? I'll order us pizza from room service” Punk says as he pulls away and helps Drew to his feet. “S-Sounds like a plan” Drew says shyly as he looks through his fanny-pack. “Oh no! Where is it?!?!” Drew says with a panicked tone. “Looking for this?” Punk says with a smirk as he hands Drew his inhaler. “Where did you find it?” Drew asks curiously as he takes a few puffs from his inhaler. 

“You left it in my bag by mistake” Punk says with a laugh as he pulls out his phone. “Sorry” Drew says embarrassingly as he puts his inhaler back in his fanny-pack. “You don't have to apologize to me, you know that right? Anyways, let's take a picture together!” Punk says excitedly, as a way of trying to make his boyfriend feel better. 

“Are you sure? You don't wanna wait til I get them removed?” Drew asks hesitantly. “I'm not waiting two years to take a pic with the love of my life” Punk says truthfully, causing Drew to smile as he stood behind him. “Ok smile!” He says happily as he takes a picture. He looks at his phone and sees Drew beautiful smile in the picture. “Who knew my boyfriend was a cute nerd?” Punk says affectionately. 

Drew smiles even more and gives Punk a quick kiss. “I love you so much” Drew says with adoration in his tone. “Love you too big guy! Now come on! Pizza awaits!” Punk says excitedly as he grabs Drew's hand and marches towards the door. Drew just laughs as they leave the arena knowing that he would never have to hide himself from Punk because his boyfriend loves him regardless of what he looks like. 

[onceandfuturewarlqck]

just sliding here my andrew minyard-centric fic dealing with grief and healing i wrote the other day because i recently read all for the game and he has stolen a huge piece of my heart.

there is no more now, no more light, gold and low by starrylance

Summary:

An almost-life was as useless as any what-if, but with its drops still lingering on his lips he pictured a boy with light hair swinging his legs sitting at a table, stomach full, a woman's soft smile directed at him.

not a merlin centric post (sorry folks) but feel free to check it out and reach out to tell me what you think (+ if you have any prompts im willing to write a fic for you)

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[viva-uwu]

sponsored by gepard c3r1 on my account

[ditzybat]

tim with a knife in his hands: damian, step away from the computer

damian reading superbat fanfiction on tim’s personal laptop: i wanted to play roblox, but this is adequate writing, are you in need of a beta reader by chance?

[kittykittyhunter]

[Posted 6 May 2013] the miracle is And I do not know this feeling in my lungs only what it resembles: nostalgia, creeping up from the depths of a yesterday (forgotten / lost) tapping on panes with 2-inch nails, noise seeping beneath the door. But hardships pass become embraces – fleeting, trapped between the pages of books with gilded sheets and spines so strong that they are adamantine bone. The smoke disperses. We are left with emotions which heal and cleansel we wrap ourselves in golden love remembered / found.

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

from the start !

so. . what are we ??

you’ve been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember.

sure, he had never outwardly called you his girlfriend, but when you were both seven years old, he came up to you. chest heaving slightly from running up and down the hill where he had gotten you a freshly plucked out bouquet of flowers. the roots were still clinging to them and he got dirt all over your hands from forcibly grabbing them and shoving the bouquet in them before you could even form a sentence.

“since you accepted the flowers, you’re mine now.” he mumbled, his little hands tightened into fists at his sides and chubby cheeks a cute shade of pink, staring at you as confidently as he could.

a grin grows on his face when you respond with a simple “okay !” and a bright smile. the grin on his face never disappears even as his mom scolds him for getting you both all dirty.

you were katsuki’s in middle school too, when the boys in class decided to play kiss, marry, kill and he had somehow gotten dragged into it. the girls in your class tried their best to seem uninterested, claiming the boys were being childish, but you noticed how hard some of them were straining their ears trying to hear what the guys were talking about in their own little corner of the room. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little curious as well.

katsuki was as ruthless as you’d known him to be, choosing to kill any girl that wasn’t to his liking, which ended up being all of them. much to the other boys’ chagrin, claiming he had no taste.

then your name was brought up.

at that, his eyes widened and he turned in his seat to see if you were watching. you had never turned your head away so fast in your life and you were pretty sure you heard something go “crack”.

he clicked his tongue. mumbling something about how stupid the game was before muttering out a “kiss yn, marry yn and kill that other bitch.” before getting up and stomping away, claiming he had to go to the bathroom followed closely by the whoops and hollers of his two friends behind him.

you both made eye contact when he walked out and you think you’ll never forget how red his cheeks were.

you were katsuki’s when he was the one to walk you to and from school everyday, claiming you would somehow get lost without him. you were katsuki’s when he had begrudgingly shoved homemade valentines day chocolates into your arms, mumbling something about how you had been upset nobody had gotten you anything last year, conveniently leaving out the fact he had scared off all the other guys trying to offer you anything.

you were katsuki’s when he grabbed your hand during the winter because he said you’d “end up dying of hypothermia with the way you’re chittering over there.” and you were his when you were the only person he laughed around. loud, genuine laughter that you and only you could squeeze out of him. you were katsuki’s when he randomly kissed you goodnight at your door one night and he’s been doing it ever since, and gets all pouty when you turn away from his kisses to tease him.

“are we dating ?” you had asked him. you’re both in high school now and you’re in his dorm room. your legs are on his lap and he’s got a comfortable grip on your leg, which tightens after he registers your questions “hah?” he looks utterly confused and a little insulted as he looks back at you, his entire face scrunched up in confusion. you pinch his nose and he swats at your hand.

“are we dating ? like—am i your girlfriend.” you say again and katsuki’s face scrunches up even harder. he huffs and looks back at his phone, landing a little smack on your leg still placed in his lap. “ ‘course yer my fuckin’ girlfriend.” he spits out, obviously irritated. then he looks back at you “I haven’t made it obvious ?” he says sarcastically. one of his eyebrows lifted as he pokes at your leg still very much in his lap.

you simply shrug “s’not that. it’s just because you’ve never actually asked me out before, so i was a little confused on where we stood.” you mumble. he stares at you while you speak and he stares a little longer before sighing. then he leans towards you and flicks your forehead.

“ow !”

“dumbass.” he murmurs. there’s a slight pout on his face and his cheeks are light shade of pink when he looks you in the eyes again. he grabs both your cheeks with one hand and smushes them together to push your lips out and presses multiple wet kisses onto them that have you squealing and squirming. his wet lips are pulled into a smirk when he pulls back and you try your best to at least look a little angry, you really do. but it’s useless when he looks at you like that.

“of course you’re my girlfriend” he reiterates. his smirk’s been replaced for something softer, something more sincere as he gazes at you with so much unadulterated affection it makes your head spin a little. “you’ve always been mine.” he says it in a teasing tone and his hand is still smushing your cheeks out and it hurts a little but his eyes are still the same. they’re warm and soft and so, so enamored with you and only you.

when he finally let’s go of your face and pulls you fully into his lap, you realize katsuki’s been yours for as long as you’ve been his.

you smile brightly at him but turn your nose up when he leans in to kiss you again. “i still haven’t heard what i wanna hear though, mr. bakugou.”

he rolls his eyes and pinches at your thigh as he mumbles out a “don’t call me that.” sighing, he looks at you intensely and you suddenly feel very shy.

“will you be my girlfriend, ya shitty girl ?” and he says it as a joke, you both know it is cus his lips are already forming into a smirk the second he finishes his sentence. and you’re pulling at his nose the moment you register it, but you’re both smiling hard. he laughs and you’re sure you’ll never get tired of the sound. “what’s your answer, pretty ?” he asks playfully and you pretend to really think it over just to mess with him, and giggling out a “yes!” when he suddenly pounces on you. flipping you both over and tickling you mercilessly, calling it revenge for you “taking too damn long to answer.”

you’d been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember, and you hope you can be forever.

[sweetaru1]

PARKOUR CIVILIZATION ART DROP!!!!!!

I was gonna render this one but I didn't feel like it, so I just slapped a gradient map and said good enough

And some from my sketchbook (with a Branzy cameo)

Can't believe this is my first time drawing clown and it's because of parkour civ of all things

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alfred: A old contact is sending a representative on his behalf. I need you all to be on your best behavior while he is here.

Bruce: aka, do not embarrass Alfred in front of his old spy buddies

Jason: you're the most embarrassing one among us

Bruce: How so?

Jason: *gesturing to Batcave*

Bruce: Well, at least I didn't get my city dragged into a dimension of death when I was a teenager.

Jason: What?

Alfred: He's talking about Danny. He is the young ward of my old contact Clockwork. Master Bruce has a rivalry with Danny since they were both young

Bruce: It's not a rivalry. That implies he is my equal which he isn't.

Alfred: Of course, Master Bruce.

Later in the evening

Danny: Bruce.

Bruce: Danny.

Danny: Still single, I see.

Bruce: Still ugly, I see.

Danny: Whore

Bruce: Virgin

Alfred: Danny hasn't even stepped through the door yet. Master Bruce, could you please behave for one weekend?

Danny/Bruce: Sorry Alfred he just gets on my nerves-WHAT DID YOU SAY?!

Alfred: *sigh* this will be a long seventy two hours.

Jason: What is going on between them?

Alfred: It's a tale as old as time young master. Spite at first sight.

[tawnysoup]

the fritter (frin critter)

[linkedin-offficial]

youll never guess where ive been

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[claitea]

"The sweetness of her voice speaks to Volo's love for her."

Then perhaps he'd like to hear it himself when it matters most.

~

left it a little open ended because i couldnt decide how exactly this happens:

1) arceus straight up does give him the ability to understand pokemon. it does not consider this either a blessing or a curse. it is simply allowing him to hear what they've been saying this whole time.

2) going off how iris only understands the hearts of dragons as opposed to n's ability to directly translate, maybe understanding pokemon is some sort of hyper-empathy thing. volo gains such a strong connection with his pokemon through fighting god he can actually understand what they feel

3) his guilty conscience catches up with him and he's imagining this just based on what n told him

either way. get guilt tripped idiot