#I’ll write this one day guys

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

Currently drunk and imagining Green Lanterns being the resident alien experts in the Justice League/Titans/whatever superhero team they’re in

Like, when the JL first got together and Hal learned that two of his teammates were the last survivors of their worlds, he decided then and there that he would always support them in whatever way he could.

(Because as the first- and for a while, only- human in the Green Lantern Corps, Hal knew better than most what it was like to be the only one of his species in a room. It’s astonishingly lonely even when you know your planet and people are still alive and well.)

So Hal asks his ring for information about Krypton and Mars, which holidays their people had celebrated and held sacred, what foods they had enjoyed that he could recreate with ingredients available on Earth.

Hal ends up becoming the third JL member after Bruce and Diana to learn about Superman’s secret identity after Clark has to explain that he came to Earth as an infant and most of his own knowledge of Krypton is as secondhand as Hal’s is. J’onn however, is very touched by Hal’s attempts at baking N���bisko cookies, as it reminds him of when he would make them with his wife and daughter.

Guy inadvertently makes Hal's practices into a tradition when he gets roped into some Fourth World drinking games with Mr. Miracle and Big Barda. Apokolips might be a flaming hellhole, but it was still once home to them both and they do miss it at times. Even in his Warrior years, Guy keeps his pub stocked with food and drinks that are popular in space, in case he gets a hungry visitor from the stars.

From then on, it becomes a duty of their shared legacy. John in his rookie days didn’t listen much to Hal but this was one of piece of advice he did heed: You might end up with an alien refugee as a teammate at some point, and it is your job as a Green Lantern to be there for them when they’re homesick. John was never a member of the Titans, and he's certainly no mentor to the team's alien princess, but he does visit Starfire on days when her banishment from Tamaran weighs most heavily, like the Blorthog Festival.

Kyle had no idea about any of this when he inherited the last ring in the wake of the Corp’s twilight. Expecting him to pick up where his predecessors had left off would have been just another weight to carry on his shoulders. So instead the heroes who'd once been touched by a Green Lantern's kindness now return the favor for their only successor. They tell Kyle about the Corps that were the keepers of peace and justice across the universe for thousands of years. They tell him of how the emerald knights of Oa were brave and kind and loved by so many people.

They tell him these things because they see that the Green Lanterns were more than just an organization of lawmen. They were a legacy, a family, a culture. Unorthodox insofar as that every member was an adopted one, but that only meant Kyle is just as much a son of the Corps as Hal or Guy or John had ever been. He may be Oa’s last son, may not have known that he belonged to the Green Lanterns until their light was all but gone, but he would never have to be lonely.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Eddie drunkenly calls Buck from wine night, confesses some things. On ao3 here.

Eddie calls him at 11:34 pm, and it’s a Thursday, so that means a few things. It’s wine night, the biggest thing. It’s wine night, at Hen and Karen’s, and he knows those start around dinner time so Eddie’s got several hours of alcohol in him. It’s 11:34 pm and Buck got off work at 10:45, another thing, so it’s a toss up whether Eddie timed the call to when he was walking through the door (a feat possible after years of going back and forth between the station, the loft, and the Diaz house at all times of day and night) or if it’s just a drunken coincidence.

“Hello,” Buck answers the phone, dragging out the first half of the word, tossing his keys into the bowl on the counter.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice bright and not very slurred, but he’s only said one word so far, and Buck sometimes secretly thinks he could probably say his name pretty steadily no matter the situation. Buck is pretty sure he could be all drunk or half dead and still be able to say Eddie just fine, anyway. “Hello. Are you home from, did you get home from work?”

Ah, so, somewhat drunk then. “Did indeed. You still at the Wilsons?”

“Did you, uh- was there fire?” Eddie sounds like he’s trying very hard to sound normal. Buck bites his lip against a snort.

“No fires. Just a half shift, remember. Pretty boring one, honestly.” I missed you probably isn’t fair to say, Buck covered the shift of his own volition, he could have been at wine night if he really wanted. But Donovan’s sister had a baby, what was he gonna do, not let the guy meet his niece? “Hope you had a better time.”

“Great time,” Eddie says, enthusiastic. “They had, uh, mini quiches.”

Buck grins at the empty room. “You’re a man who loves a mini quiche.”

A few seconds of whooshy silence where Buck assumes Eddie is nodding enthusiastically. “The- uh- they had the bacon kind. The kind, and with the- you know, there’s spinach? Can we go to Costco?”

“Sure,” Buck agrees, opening his admittedly pretty sparsely populated fridge. “Could use a grocery run.”

“And get the, get more quiches?”

Buck grabs a protein bar, smiling as fondly as he wants to with no one around to see him. “Yeah, Eds, we’ll get more quiches.”

“And you’ll take the spinach ones? And I get the good ones?”

Buck laughs. “The spinach ones are good. You can barely even taste the spinach, they’re just, like, warm and eggy.”

“Mmm,” Eddie says, doubtfully. “It’s not nice to lie, Buckley.”

“I’m not fucking lying,” Buck cackles. “Your spinach hatred is so unfair, what’d it ever do to you?”

“Taste bad,” Eddie says, adding a blegh sound for emphasis. “It’s like- like- it’s gross, I don’t believe you actually like it, actually. You just want to eat grown up food.”

Buck snorts. “Man, I hate to break it to you, we both turn 34 this year.”

“And I don’t feel like I have to prove that to anybody by eating nasty food,” Eddie says, nose definitely in the air. Buck shakes his head and takes a bite of the protein bar.

“Whatever, man. You just have to live with the fact that Chris is the one sneaking vegetables into your food.”

“You’re so mean. I’m not letting you have any of my actually good quiches.” Empty threat, they always end up sharing, both of them know it. “That’s not even what I called about. That’s not even-“ Eddie huffs so hard it sounds all crackly in Buck’s ear. “I called to tell you that I love you.”

Buck grins. Oh boy, affectionate drunk Eddie is here. He’d wondered just how much wine they’d got through and it seems like Eddie must be nearly a bottle in. “Aw, love you too, bud.”

“No,” Eddie says, and Buck can see the frown from here. “Buck. Listen. I’m in love with you.”

Oh. God. Oh god. “Uh-“ Buck says, stomach swooping all over the fucking place, “Uh- I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having while you’re-“

“Oh, fuck off, shut up. Shut up. It’s fine.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck,” Eddie says, in the annoyed voice he uses when Buck is trying to get him to eat yogurt with his fruit in the morning, or even a dastardly spinach quiche. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I knew you’d- why- stop it. Listen. I feel like this all the time. It’s stupid that I’ve never, like, I never just say this all the time. You’re, like-”

Eddie cuts himself off and Buck waits — sort of fearfully — for him to continue, but the silence keeps stretching on. Buck knows the other side effect of this level on the Eddie Diaz Drunkenness Scale is heightened distractibility, so he probably noticed a nice color or perhaps a bug. They spent a good twenty minutes hanging out with a grasshopper at Hen and Karen’s wedding towards the end of the night, because it was a lovely shade of green and a funny little guy. Oh god, Buck thinks again. I love this man. I love this man a ridiculous amount and we should absolutely wait to talk about it.

But: “You’re tall and you’re in my house,” Eddie says before Buck can do anything to stop him.

“I’m-” Buck glances around the loft. “Eds, I’m at my place.”

“What?” He sounds so indignant that Buck has to cover his mouth to hold a laugh in. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live here?”

“That’s stupid. You should live with me in my house.”

“Should I?” Buck asks, laugh escaping a little bit. “Also, wait, what does me being tall have to do with it?”

Eddie sighs, long and exasperated. “If you live with me you never have to go home and leave me because you’re already at my house. Your house. If you live with me you never have to go anywhere.”

“Never have to go anywhere?” Buck thinks he’s in shock, maybe, about all of this, but teasing Eddie is something that’s always easy to fall into. “I don’t have a job in this scenario?”

“Well you’d go to work. And other places. But you just come back to me all the time.”

“I’d like to come back to you all the time,” Buck says, choking a little on how simply it explains every ache in him. “Eddie-“

“And you’re tall because… it matters because you’re tall because…” Eddie’s voice is soft, his breathing is soft. Buck wonders where he is in Hen and Karen’s house. In a hallway, tucked away from everyone, the nice light from the stained glass lamp they have there warm on his face? On the back porch, out in the cool night air? Buck wants to tell him to come home, wants to make sure he’s warm. “I never had to look up at anybody before.”

“I’ve got like two inches on you,” Buck replies, but his voice is pretty quiet.

“It’s a big two inches,” Eddie says, just as soft. Then, also quiet but of an entirely different flavor, “That's- Sorry- that's what she said.”

“That's-” Buck snorts. “What-” and then giddy laughter bursts up out of him, baking soda and vinegar, foamy and ticklish. He cackles till he’s breathless, listening to Eddie’s responding chuckles over the line, and sinks down to the floor, back against the kitchen island. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I scored better on my certification exams than you.”

“That’s not even true!” Buck protests over Eddie’s continuing laughter. “Only in two categories!”

“Overall percentage was higher!” Eddie reminds him, as he does every time they have this argument.

“Well, I remember building construction and related hazards better than you and that’s written down on official paper somewhere.”

“Not fair,” Eddie says, as he always says. “You- you did- you built those. Unfair advantage.”

“I think you’re overselling the kind of experience I got in a few months working construction like a decade ago.”

“It wasn’t a decade when you took the tests,” Eddie points out. “Whatever. Nevermind. And I don’t want to sound like- you’re good at remembering things. You’re not stupid. I don’t want to sound like you are.”

Buck taps his boot against the sink counter in front of him. “I know. You’re not either.”

“I know,” Eddie says, soft again. “But your hands are big, and… you’ve got stubble sometimes, and…” he trails off into just breathing on the other end of the line for several long moments. “Buck,” Eddie whispers in sleepover voice. “Have you ever kissed a boy before?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, knowing Eddie knows this, but playing along anyway. “I have.”

“What's it like?”

Buck hums, closes his eyes. He thinks about the few guys he’d made out with but never followed home when he got to Los Angeles. Thinks about the room he’d crashed in with Connor in Peru, with it’s one mattress and both their clothes living in suitcases because they were too broke to buy any other furniture. He’s still got a t-shirt for a school he never went to, a few sizes too small. The way they hadn’t shared a room once they were in LA, the girls Connor started seeing. He thinks about John from the ranch who left town the next day. He thinks about high school, Len McGuinty under the bleachers in the summer before senior year, both of them giggling and half terrified and the way they’d pretended to barely know each other when school started back up. Hard jawlines and stubble and muscles and height. Having something, for however long you get to have it. Wanting something, very badly. He opens his eyes and it’s almost a surprise that he’s still in the loft. That he’s not at Eddie’s house. All the time in the world there wouldn’t be enough. “It’s good, Eddie. It feels good.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, shivery.

“I want to live in your home all the time, and never have to go anywhere,” Buck says, repeats. “I’ll kiss you, if you want.”

“Buck-”

“I’ll love you, if you want.” Eddie is still drunk, Buck tries to remind himself. But it might actually kill him not to say it out loud when Eddie had said he feels like this all the time. How could he not say he feels like this all the time, too? “I’ll love you back. I love you back. I’ll eat all the spinach quiches for you.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t know what expression is on his face, doesn’t know what look is tied to this tone of voice. Is desperate to find out. Quiet down the line for a few moments. And then: “It’s late.”

Buck pulls his phone away from his ear for a second to check the time. Nearly midnight. “Yeah.” His hands feel clammy. It was too much. They should have waited to talk. Eddie wants out now, and that’s fine. Buck will —somehow, skin of his teeth — find a way to be fine with that.

But: “I want to go home,” Eddie says. “Buck. Come and take me home.”

“And then-”

“And then stay.”

“Okay,” Buck gets to his feet, tosses the half eaten bar in the trash. Eddie’s house has food. His home has things to eat.

“Okay,” Eddie says, confident now, everything decided, everything for sure. “I’ll see you soon.

“Minutes,” Buck says, grabbing his keys, half running to the door. “I’ll be there in minutes.”

“Minutes,” Eddie says back. And Buck can hear his smile.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

AU where even after death our favourite Finwëions are being stubborn as ever so a new solution is found. Finarfin just wanted to help his grandson in law.

Fëanor and Fingolfin are being stubborn as ever

It’s been three ages, their wounds are healed, they’ve made up and understood most of their deeds

But they cannot for the life of them get along, and everyone, from Mandos to their children and people, know that if they’re released in their current state, things will go right back to how they were

Even if their people are kept in line by their kids, it’s a very explosive situation

And in all honesty, Námo feels like they’ve put poor Finarfin through enough without this addition

He can’t keep them here forever. The halls aren’t meant to be a permanent residence unless it’s by choice, and they’ve started causing chaos in here too

…but speaking of the sons of Finwë

Finarfin himself isn’t doing particularly well right now. He feels great guilt for his inaction over the last two Ages, especially as Tyelpë and Ereinion turned up with their own tales

Then of course little Celebrian

(Doesn’t matter how much everyone tells him they’d genuinely be lost without him and his actions. The Noldor especially would’ve been outcast and alone. They needed a stable ruler, not another revolutionary. And the work he’s done is more impactful than either of his brothers ever managed)

Not to mention he’s still furious at his brothers despite what he’s convinced himself of

…and misses them greatly.

Truth be told, the Valar owe him a lot.

So they offer him a choice.

Ereinion’s skilled with managing all kinds of people and people don’t have a problem with the kid, so for a time he’ll be the High King

Finarfin is overjoyed at the chance to help his granddaughter’s family. Elrond is dear to many across all factions, and his children too.

…He’s less overjoyed at the news his brothers will be joining him if he agrees.

Nevertheless desire to be of use for once wins out and he accepts.

He gets a week or so to say his goodbyes and prepare for the journey. Asking around, particularly asking the third age elves who’ve recently arrived and Celebrian most of all, gets him the clothes and supplies he needs to somewhat blend in.

They’re still his colours (though he has none) and his symbol is carefully hidden under the cloak.

And he heads to the Hall’s Opening.

“For what it’s worth, Arafinwë, I’m sorry for the additional baggage. We’ve asked much of you, but hopefully this at least will benefit us all.”

Námo is kind when he stands and opens the gates.

“I know you’ve missed them too.”

The soft whisper dissipates into the wind with the Vala and now two figures are walking out. Tall. Broad shouldered. Eyes shining with light.

Clad in their usual blue and red, weapons strapped to their backs and hips.

Fëanaro and Nolofinwë have returned at last.

Before he can say anything there’s a whirl of light and the three elves are swept away.

Aragorn did not sign up for this

A bright flash of light all but blinds him, leaving three figures in its wake.

Three very tall. Very Elven. Figures.

And if that’s not enough, they look strangely familiar. Like he should know them from somewhere.

“That damn Vala! He couldn’t have warned us!”

And now they’re speaking Quenya.

“He did. It’s not his fault you don’t listen to anyone but yourself,” the one clad in blue says viciously.

The third elf, the only one with blond hair, groaned and glared at the two others. Aragorn winced at the look, thankful he wasn’t under it, though neither of the others so much as flinched.

“You’ve been back how long?” He scoffed. “And here I thought I missed you.”

To his credit the one in blue showed some regret and bowed his head. Beside him, the red one huffed, but it was much less heated, and his hands clenched into the leaves around him.

“Forgive me, Arafinwë,” the blue one said.

Aragorn’s hand found his blade. It couldn’t be…

“Depends what you want forgiveness for, Nolo,” was the cold reply, tinged with hurt.

No way.

But it was there. The uncanny resemblance to the portraits he’d seen in his books as a young boy learning his history. This was no doubt Fingolfin, and beside him Finarfin. Which only left-

“My feud with Fëanaro has long tainted our relationship, little brother,” the blue elf- *Fingolfin* replied bitterly, glaring at the third elf. “I’d like to start again.”

“Well I’d like you two to shove your issues aside for once and try and get along!” Finarfin hissed back, and his older brother’s eyes widened. “How long will you keep fighting?! How long will you divide your people, your children! How long will you make them suffer for your egos?!”

Aragorn expected Fëanor to scowl, angrily proclaim his youngest half brother had no right to speak that way, but the elf only glared into the floor. Fingolfin stared into the trees and Finarfin turned away, eyes clouding with pain.

Only to stare right at Aragorn.

“Fëanaro, Nolo. Swords up.”

To their credit the elves immediately stood and followed Finarfin’s gaze to Aragorn. The Ranger carefully stepped into the light as the three sons of Finwë stared him down.

“It is not polite to lurk, stranger.” Fingolfin said in the common tongue and Aragorn vaguely wondered if he’d been taught it in the halls. He put his hands up, free of weapons, and lowered his hood.

“Forgive me, my lord Fingolfin. But I had to identify if you were friend of foe. You appeared in a strange manner wearing faces of old, and the enemy is skilled in his deceit.”

“You dare accuse us of being Sauron’s creations?” Fëanor’s eyes lit with a fell fire and Aragorn would have shuddered was he not accustomed to seeing much worse from his own father. Elrond could be… rather terrifying when he decided he’d had enough of his son’s’ shenanigans.

“He was being cautious,” Finarfin retorted. “Something you could learn from considering how your life ended.”

“I didn’t know what Balrogs were!”

“The great Fëanaro admitting to not knowing something, have the end of days come at last?”

“Some would say his presence here is an indicator of that,” Fingolfin muttered as Fëanor scowled at the blond. The scowl turned to him and he met it squarely. “I said what I said.”

The situation was fast unravelling and Aragorn had Nazgul on his tail. For all his training in Elrond’s house, nothing had prepared him for dealing with three Princes - Kings??? - of the Noldor at each others throats. Sending a prayer that this wouldn’t get him skewered, he whistled sharply and the three elves spun his way. He raised his hands in apology.

“Orcs and other fell beasts roam these lands, my lords. I’d advise a quieter argument?” He grimaced at the two stunned faces, wondering when it would turn to explosive anger that ended the line of Elros once and for all.

But Finarfin tilted his head, a small smile playing about his lips.

“It takes great courage to step between the arguments of the House of Finwë. What’s your name, stranger.”

The Ranger bowed his head.

“The trees have ears, my lord, I’d take you to an Elven safehaven before telling you that. But for now, you can call me Strider.”

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

(Small, frivolous rant incoming, apologies)

One thing I wish the Destiny fandom did more of was dabble in the utter horror this universe holds, especially when it comes to portraying the vile atrocities committed by many of the cosmic level characters.

Destiny‘s T rating holds it back so much in my opinion (but it still manages to lay down excellent foundations for horror and more mature themes!!) and I really wish there was more fan works that explored the unimaginable tragedies that occur in lore!!

When you really dwell on the scale of many of the disasters that happen in lore, it really dawns on you just how sinister and monstrous many of the larger villains are. Antagonists like Eramis are much more grounded, certainly not saints though, but some of the antagonists we have encounter are truly odious in their behaviors, even if they are deluded into thinking what they are doing is correct (like the Osmium siblings ravaging whole star systems in pursuit of the sword).

For example, it’s no secret that I LOATHE the Witness like no other. This wicked entity has me fighting bile at the mere thought of it and I truly think the way it delivers cruelty with such a sense of compassion and righteousness to be the most stomach wrenching form of being baneful. I could not think of an entitlement more deplorable than the Witness‘ and it’s existence is a travesty that has caused irreparable harm that spans EONS.

Yet, in my experience, I never see much content that taps into the horrors experienced by those touched by the Witness and its pawns, such as the Noesis and humanity during the collapse. There are INCREDIBLE artistic and written works that tap into the psychological horrors of exos and the unethical hell Clovis was putting people through, but not as many on the more cosmic horrors from what I have seen!!

This may just be a me thing and the personal reasons why I want the Witness put under a hydraulic press speaking, but I often see plenty of depictions of the Witness being uncharacteristically soft and having deeper feelings towards its disciples, but works about its vengeful rage, simple mindedness, violation of the autonomy of others, and predatory grooming are quite barren.

I wish to see just how HEINOUS it is displayed in all its turpitude and how it leaves a festering rot on everything and everyone it touches. I love the Witness because it is so evil in it‘s actions and my heart SINGS any time I see people tap into the trauma it causes, especially for characters like Rhulk or Savathûn!!

There is so much room for exploring just how vast the Destiny universe is when you decenter perpetrators in stories and focus on the incomprehensible number of victims.

Destiny genuinely has a character running around with the title „The Final God of Pain“ haunting people and refusing to permanently die, but there is only so much a T rated game can do and I feel like Destiny enjoyers can go beyond what’s in game in such creative ways!! Just thinking of the fall of Torobatl has me going „Wow, I’m actually so sick to my stomach, I need to honor Caiatl and really capture the pain of such an event!“

The latest lore on the Qugu? My chest HURTS.

Some of the hive experimentations? The hive in general? Hell is not hot enough for what the Witness lead them into.

But you know what they say, be the change you want to see in the world! Create the content you want to enjoy and promote the content you do enjoy!! I wish to dabble into the darker areas of lore, and of course, promote Witness hatred any chance I get!! Hopefully I get more time to write about these things and really value the work the Destiny writers have put into portraying such strong feelings of loss time and time again!!

And also!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read The Garden‘s Witness by Titanmaster_117 !!! ESPECIALLY THE FIRST CHAPTER, I COULD RANT ABOUT THIS BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF PROSE ALL DAY, IT GENUINELY MADE ME CRY!! PROMOTE THE CONTENT YOU ENJOY ALL DAY, EVERYDAY!!

But this is just something I’ve been thinking for some time now. This isn’t condemning anyone in the fandom or saying there is an issue, just a desire I would love to see (and hopefully fulfill if I ever get back into writing for Destiny!) If you guys have any recommendations for Destiny works that are horrific, focus on themes of loss and devastation, or hate on the Witness, feel free to mention them so other people can find them!!

Not enough Witness hate going around for my liking… this looks like a job for me.

[tang3r1n]

currently losing my mind over dudes who copy your moans and fuck you with a big ass grin slapped on their stupid fucking face.

i fucking love this baby

[omgpoindexter]

we need to talk

nurseydex, 31k Break Up (but not who you think), Getting Together, Paris

“Caitlin's moving to Paris,” Dex says. “Chris isn't,” he adds, even though that much is implied. Nursey whistles through his teeth. “Fuck.” Or, in which despite grand romantic gestures and relationship therapy on rooftops, there is always a room in Dex’s apartment for Nursey to return to.

[jujuscrolled]

love, actually

☆ in which if you look closely, you’ll find that love actually is all around (ft. toji, choso, yuta)

Toji

Toji had become increasingly worried about his son. Megumi had never been quite the talker - always resorting to a shrug, a nod or a side eye. Toji had become accustomed to their conversation (or lack there of) - so much so that he could read Megumi like a book. Their routine went like such: Megumi would come home, they’d have minimal conversation over how his school day had gone, he’d leave to do his homework and come out by dinner time (he’d complain about the taste or smell or anything else that didn’t meet his expectations), then they’d watch reruns of Crayon Shin-Chan and demolish exactly half of a large bucket of red vines. That was what Toji liked, it was a nice routine, he thought.

Until about a week ago - Megumi had eaten his dinner (without complaints!) and while they still had their nightly father-son bonding over Shin-chan Megumi had only eaten about a third of what he usually ate of red vines, and God forbid he tried asking about school.

Toji was at a bit of a loss considering he wasn’t much of a talk about your feelings kinda guy but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about his son. So, the obvious solution? Talk to the most emotionally available person he knew: you.

You were their neighbor and Toji’s close friend - though, really more of his only friend. You were the only one that would genuinely tolerate and even enjoy both his and his son’s emotional constipation.

“So, you’re worried about him… Because he’s not complaining about your food?” You asked as you sat at one of the barstools that faced his kitchen.

“There’s more to it. ‘Sides, i’m not worried i’m just…” Toji paused, thinking of a word to properly describe what he was feeling but his mind was far too jam packed with thoughts to formulate a proper word.

“It’s called being worried, Toj. And honestly? Considering you’re trying to make dinner with a chicken breast and a single carrot - i’m worried now too.” You mused, standing up and making your way over to him. (He had asked you to help him make dinner earlier but you had refused knowing that you’d end up doing most of the work.)

Toji watched you as you leaned onto the counter, back against the drawers as you looked at him curiously. He felt his hands get sweaty.

“Well, have you asked his teachers if he’s been off in class too?” You asked causing Toji to roll his eyes, “‘m not asking his teacher about my son.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him, “don’t be silly. They spend a lot of time with him - it’s not a bad thing to ask about your son as a concerned parent! Besides, you’re asking me about him and I’m just your neighbor.”

Toji scoffed at you, lifting his hand to flick your forehead.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re more than just our neighbor. ‘Sides, the brat likes you.” He looked away from you feeling uncharacteristically bashful as you grinned up at him.

“Awww, you guys like me?” You cooed, poking at his side making him swat your hand away. Toji was surprisingly ticklish for being such a burly man so you always found it funny to poke at the not so metaphorical bear.

“Well alright then, I’ll do what I can. Now please move, I doubt boiled chicken and half a carrot can hardly provide anyone with the necessary nutrients to survive.” You muttered pushing on his beefy shoulder so he could move.

“I put seasonings and shit in here too, don’t piss me off.” He muttered, but moved away from the stove regardless.

Four bowls of chicken noodle soup (Toji had seconds), a few episodes of Shin-Chan and three-fourths of a jar of red vines later Toji found himself in his room, mouth ajar as he stared at his phone.

From: Toji (don’t answer)

no fuckin’ way. he’s 6. u pullin my leg?

To: Y/n

you’ll never find me anywhere near ur nasty ass leg, old man. ur welcome btw !! xoxo

Toji deadpanned at your message before rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn’t even that much older than you. Shaking his head and focusing on the main topic; he supposed a crush wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

The next day the three of you found yourselves walking down the street, per your suggestion of course. You’d thought the Christmas decorations would help get Megumi to talk about his crush. Some kid in his class that he refused to tell even you more about. Toji couldn’t lie, his interest was piqued. It wasn’t often that the Fushiguros were interested in people so clearly this kid has got to be something special.

“So, school got any fun things going on?” Toji asked awkwardly. Out of his peripheral he saw the way you had face palmed.

“Not really, no.” Megumi said, eyes not rising from where they’d been the entire walk; the floor.

“Right.” He muttered feeling dejected. As if sensing his father’s dissatisfaction, Megumi cleared his throat before shoving his hands in his pockets, “actually, there’s a play coming up. For Christmas and stuff.”

You and Toji looked at each other, eyes wide. “Oh! Are we invited?” You asked, only getting a shrug from Megumi.

“Well I’m in it so I have a few tickets if you want them.” He said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just dropped the most unexpected bomb on his father. “You’re in the play?” Toji asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible so not to scare off Megumi’s invitation.

“Yeah. A friend of mine convinced me.” Toji glanced over at you, watching as your eyes sparkled.

“Cool, well we can help you practice, if you’d like.” You said, looking over at Toji who cleared his throat, “yeah, and I can help build stuff or whatever.” Toji kept his gaze in front of him, not wanting to scare the young boy off.

He pulled out his phone having felt it buzz and arched a brow at the message.

From: Y/n

wasn’t I the one that helped you build everything in ur house ? :p

Toji reached over, behind Megumi, to shove your shoulder surprisingly gently before texting you back.

From: Toji (don’t answer)

help me get the kid w his crush i’ll take u to dinner. on me

Toji stuffed his phone in his pocket, refusing to turn to look at you since that same damned warmth in his cheeks that you always seemed to cause was back and warmer than ever.

choso

Your fingers clicked against the keys on your keyboard, filing out yet another dreaded email. With the holidays coming up it seemed like less and less people were using their brains.

One of those people being your boss: Satoru Gojo. Who was currently standing beside you, the rolled up sheets of paper that he’d probably had some poor intern print out just to give them something to do, tapping against your head in attempts to get your attention - though really, he just found a wicked sense of pleasure in annoying you.

“Yes, Gojo?” You sighed, clicking send before turning to look at him.

“Come to my office please, I’d like to discuss a very important topic.” He said. Now, if Gojo was normal you’d be very concerned at his words. Thankfully (or not, depends who you ask, really) Gojo was far from normal and if the cheshire grin and the pure evil lurking behind his cerulean eyes were anything to go by; he was just playing on something else that would surely cause you a headache.

Sure enough, the second you were in his office he was grinning even wider at you.

“So. How’s my beloved friend doing today?” He asked, leaning forward onto his elbows, his head supported by his folded hands.

“What do you want from me, Satoru.” You sighed, patience unusually thin due to the long string of his emails that he’d tasked you with replying to claiming that you did all the ��proper talk” better than he did.

“Okay fine, i’ll cut to the chase but only because I have last minute party planning to do; when are you gonna do something about your little problem?”

You only stared at him, unable to find it within you to somehow guess what the hell he was talking about this time.

“Pardon?”

“Sheesh, and you say i’m the childish one. Look, because you’re my friend and I love you; we have a bet going on and while I can afford lose a grand; I’m not about to let my best friend be alone on Christmas so if confess by tonight i’ll personally give you the thousand that I have riding on this.”

Satoru was insane, you knew this, but this was just far beyond insanity.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’ll even be your wingman!” You could only gape at his words, the rest of his speech finally processing in your mind and only humiliating you further.

“You said the entire office has a bet on this?!” You whispered shouted, feeling your cheeks heat up as you thought about all the times you’d caught people staring at you whenever you and Choso spoke. It all made sense now, though really, you had hoped you’d just been paranoid. The reality of it all was much more horrifying than your mind.

“Well… Yes… We weren’t aware that you were trying to keep it lowkey, sweets…” You groaned at his words, moving to slam your head onto his desk but his hand reached over blocking you from doing so.

“Does… Does he know?” You asked, unable to look at him in the eyes.

“I think you know the answer to that…”

“I’m putting my two weeks in.”

“Nonsense! Sweets, you have this in the bag alright? And especially if you have me as your wingman! So here’s the plan-“

And so you found yourself standing awkwardly in the corner of the stupid Christmas party Satoru had thrown to “boost morale”. You had to give him credit though, despite your sour mood - the rest of the office seemed to actually be having fun. The dance floor was filled with your coworkers dancing and talking together - Satoru in the middle of it all of course, eyes bright and santa hat tilted atop his head. The man didn’t even have to drink to have that much fun, you couldn’t help but smile at the realization.

“He seems to be enjoying his own party.” Your eyes widened at the all too familiar voice next to you, swallowing your drink harshly as you turned to look at him.

Kamo Choso. Looking devastatingly handsome in a white button up, sleeves rolled up and exposing his forearms. The black slacks he wore always were a joy to witness. And as if you needed any other reason to gawk at the gorgeous man in front of you, he had decided to wear his hair down. Oh, what a treat.

“Huh? Oh! Er.. Uhm, yeah, he’s quite the party enjoyer.” You inwardly cringed at yourself, party enjoyer?! Really?

Choso only laughed, looking back over at your friend who was now doing the sprinkler - Suguru and Shoko throwing confetti at him as if it was money.

“I take it you’re not?” He asked, looking back at you before taking a sip of his own drink. You could only shrug, “I guess I prefer a quiet night in…”

“Me too.” He said, nodding to himself.

“Y/n!” You felt your entire body tense at Satoru’s call, eyes closing in fear of what was to come.

Sure enough, an arm was thrown around your shoulder. “Oh, hello, Cho!”

“It’s Choso.”

“We’re all pals here are we not? Anyway! This is perfect, i’ve been trying to get Y/n on the dance floor all night but since we’re all paired up already, do you mind a few rounds with my good friend here?”

You felt like pinching yourself, wanting so desperately to wake up from this very obvious nightmare you were having.

Unfortunately, the pinch only added to your pain and suffering.

“Uhm…”

“You really don’t have to do that, Choso. Our boss here was unfortunately dropped far too often as a child and it clearly must have caused irreversible damage.” You said, glaring at Satoru who only let out a loud laugh before patting your back far too harshly causing you to stumble forward.

“Have fun! Not too much fun though.” He winked, walking away leaving you to clean up the mess he’d caused.

“I’m… So sorry…” You cringed out. Not having the heart to face the man next to you.

Much to your surprise, he only let out a chuckle.

“Don’t be - I’ve actually been meaning to ask you to dance but couldn’t figure out how to so I guess now I’ll just have to thank him later.. If you’ll have me of course…”

Yuta

“Yuji what the hell are these?” You asked as you stared down at the ridiculously bad pictures Yuji had taken on your phone. You had put your entire trust in him seeing as he had been bending down and allegedly breaking his back to take “the perfect photos” but as you stared at the blurry atrocities on your phone - it was clear that while he meant well, Yuji was far to hyperactive to take steady photos.

“Huh? whats wrong with them?” He asked, leaning over your shoulder to look at them with you.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with them?! Are these even of me? This is a blurry picture of a dog!” You whined, hearting the picture so it’d be put into your favorites folder - it was actually a pretty cute dog, blurry or not.

“Aw man! I must’ve accidentally had the one second delay on them, i’m sorry.” He said, grabbing your phone so he could get a closer look at the photos.

“It’s okay. I don’t even really need them anyway.” You sighed, patting his head. He only pouted, handing you your phone.

“Maybe you show up in Maki’s pictures? Or inumaki’s! He took some too!” Yuji said.

“What about my pictures?” Maki asked before you could say anything. You and Yuji looked over as she walked closer to you and Yuji, Inumaki and Megumi following behind her.

“I took crappy photos of Y/n so I was just talking about your photos and how you might have better pictures of everyone!” Yuji explained, sitting next to you.

“Why’d you take crappy photos?” Maki asked, frowning at Yuji who only let out an offended scoff.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” He replied only causing them both to argue if it had been intentional or not.

“Guys! It’s fine, really, but if I happen to show up in the background of any of your guys’ pictures then send them my way please.” You begged, clicking off your phone before leaning back on the bench you were all squeezed onto.

The campus was abnormally empty, though with the temperature dropping you couldn’t say you were surprised. Sitting outside during the winter was not something any of the other students wanted to do so you guys chose to sit there to avoid the indoor crowds. Nobara, Yuta and Panda refused to go out in the cold if it could be helped so you all usually met in the library once Nobara sent you a text telling you that the crowds had dispersed.

“Oh! Wait, I’m pretty sure I remember Yuta taking photos of everyone.” Maki said causing you to look away from Megumi and Yuji who were debating if your professors Geto and Gojo were dating or not. They just seemed to have too much unspoken energy in the air around them.

“Yeah maybe of you guys.” You sighed. Maki rolled her eyes at you, “i’m serious. He’s the likely candidate for having pictures of you. Good ones too - you’ve seen his portfolio.”

You could only shrug at her words, unlocking your phone again to see if maybe you’d missed any hidden gems.

There was nothing.

“Just ask him, Y/n! Why are you so scared?” Maki sighed, grabbing your phone and forcing you to look at her.

Your only hope was Yuta Okkotsu - the guy who honestly would’ve been your first choice (aside from Megumi who was too busy with finals to join your group) but unfortunately for you, he hated your guts.

“Oh my Gods he does not hate you.” She groaned, as she scrolled through the pictures. You watched as she grimaced at them only furthering your feeling of despair.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t even need the pictures or anything.”

“Need them or not - Yuta will have some. So speak now or forever hold your peace.” Maki said handing you your phone back.

“Well, lucky for me I enjoy my peace quite a bit.”

The week had passed with you refusing to ask Yuta for pictures. Maybe he didn’t actually hate you but you highly doubted he liked you.

Every time you’d try to speak to him, he’d find an excuse to leave the conversation as soon as possible. If it was ever just the two of you waiting for the rest of the group, he’d miraculously always receive a silent phone call that he just had to answer. If you ever asked to hang out (though this had been closer to the beginning of your friendship with the group) he’d find an excuse for that too.

Overall, the guy avoided you like the plague and had never tried to get close to you despite the rest of the group being welcoming. You couldn’t help but let it bother you a little bit since you really didn’t think you’d done anything to start off on the wrong foot with him but at the end of the day - you also didn’t want to force a friendship with him if he wasn’t open to it.

You groaned into your pillow before pulling your phone out, your finger hovering over Yuta’s contact number.

You supposed it couldn’t hurt to just ask… Though as your luck would have it, your finger must’ve been hovering a little too close to the call button and now before you could even process it, the phone had started to dial his number making your eyes widen.

“Hello?” His voice sounded leaving you with your mouth wide open and your heart about to beat out of your chest.

“Uhm… Hello?” He asked again, making you sit up as you put the phone to your ear. “Oh! Uhm, hi, yes sorry! It’s Y/n…” You said, face palming.

“Yeah… I know…”

“R-right… Sorry, uhm, I was just calling because Maki had mentioned something about you taking photos the other day? Or, last week would be more accurate…” You let out an awkward chuckle as you were met with silence.

“Uhm, hello?” You asked after a moment. Had he hung up on you? You checked the screen only to see the call was still ongoing.

“Oh. Uhm. Yeah, I did but i’m not sure if they’re any good.” He muttered into the phone. Despite his tone, you couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled in your chest.

“Wait, really?! Wow! Is it okay if I stop by to see if-“

“Uhm, I don’t think… I mean, they’re not great. Probably too blurry - they won’t be any good.” He explained but you were far too excited.

“Trust me, anything will be better than Yuji’s blurry pictures.” You said, jumping off your bed and slipping on your shoes.

“I can be over in about ten minutes! Thank you so much!” You said, pulling your phone away from you so you could hang up.

You could’ve been at his dorm sooner but you figured you’d get him a coffee or something as both a peace offering and a thank you.

So with a coffee and a slice of pistachio cake you stood outside Yuta and Inumaki’s shared dorm room.

You heard shuffling on the other side of the door before it opened slowly. Yuta stood awkwardly, hands at his sides as he stared at you. You pushed through your discomfort and offered a smile before raising the treats towards him, “a small thank you - for your time and maybe for your photography skills as well.”

He only rubbed the back of his neck, glancing behind him before he cleared his throat, “uhm, look, I really don’t think you show up in any of the pictures or videos… So… Sorry to have wasted your time and stuff.” He muttered, not meeting your eyes.

You felt your eyes sting, hands lowering since he still hadn’t taken the cake or coffee from you. You were feeling rejected and embarrassed.

“Oh… Well, since i’m already here… Do you mind if I still look through? I’m sure they’re lovely regardless…” You asked, trying to keep face as you smiled up at him through teary eyes.

“I-… Uhm…” He sighed before moving sideways allowing you into his room.

You’d been in the dorm before, though it was the first time he had also been in there with you considering every time Inumaki invited you over Yuta was always suspiciously gone.

He was slow to pull out his laptop, clicking through files before he placed it down in front of you.

“These are the only ones that were salvageable.” He muttered, allowing you to click through.

Sure enough, they were gorgeous. Yuta was the only one in your group with a professional grade camera and a certain eye for photography as well so it really was a no-brainer that they’d be perfect. You couldn’t help but smile at the photos of your friends. Small ache in your chest as you realized that he had taken special care in not including you in any of them. He’d even gotten some of Yuji, who had been glued to your side the entire day, and managed to not even have a finger of yours in frame. Truly talented he was.

As you clicked through, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the recently opened file, your eyes landing on a file with your name on it, excitement filling your chest.

Figuring they’d probably just be the non-cropped versions of what you had already seen, you clicked on the file without really giving it a second thought.

Instead of that though, you were met with an entire portfolio of just you. Pictures of you smiling, closeups of your hands and eyes, videos of you just existing loading onto the screen.

“Oh…” Was the only thing you were able to whisper. “They’re… They’re beautiful, Yuta... But I- I thought you hated me?”

He stayed quiet, not meeting your eyes that had once again filled with tears. Happy ones this time.

“Yeah, well… Hopefully those work for you… I’ll uhm… I have to go but send yourself whichever ones you want.” He said, grabbing his backpack before darting out the door, leaving you with far too much to process.

a/n; tysm for reading <3 comments n reblogs always welcome ! oh and yes ! this is very much based on the movie love actually ! :3

[hungharrington]

Obsessed with Polaroid Steve stuff, imagine asking him to take Polaroids of you two having sex ugh

got possessed by smth and was like dear god. this needs to be mean!steve so @stevenose shawty & monarch of mean!steve, lots of ur lil thoughts inspired this tehe <3 MDNI this entire blog is 18+, afab!reader, mean!steve, photos taken during sex, p in v other polaroid thoughts here, here, and here

Delirium runs rampent beneath your skin, each nerve fired up as you brain drools out one thought: Steve, Steve, Steve.

The sheets scratch at your forearms, head bowed as you arch your back prettily. Your thighs have a tremble to them, all worked up from taking Steve’s cock from behind— his thighs slap yours with every thrust. Your hot cunt gushes with every slide of his cock, dripping down your thighs.

“Steve,” you gasp, fingers clutching the sheets tighter as you plead for more. The squelch is loud, your slick inviting his cock in further, deeper, faster. You hear Steve’s gravelly moan, his hands on your hips tightening, and you moan in response. “Steve, baby, I- ah, fuck—”

Steve’s chuckle rumbles lowly, sliding one hand forward to skim along your tummy, nearing your clit. He doesn’t help, doesn’t give you what you need, just teases, his hand smoothing down to hold your hipbone. His hips snap into your faster and you keen, tits brushing the sheets beneath you in a way that only adds to your mounting pleasure.

You moan again, the noise forcing up your throat, making you press your face into the bed. Throes of pleasure make your clit twitch— Steve’s been fucking you for hours, making you bounce on his cock before pressing you down into the mattress but it’s just not enough, you need just that little bit more. Even so, the stream of stimulation has driven you a little bit brainless, everything Steve. You’re as fucked out as you get.

“Oh, honey,” Steve coos, slowing his hips but deepening his thrusts til he’s nearly stopped. Your moan turns to soft whimpers, your hips moving instinctively to try fuck back on him but he doesn’t allow it. The hands around your hips slide up, giving a moment to pinch at your nipples with a smug noise til he tugs you up gently by your shoulders.

“C’mon, baby, sit up, sit back.” He instructs. You go willingly, trying to find feeling back in your arms to push yourself up. At the same time you press up onto your hands, Steve sits back onto his heels, thighs spread wide. His hands shift from your shoulders, wrapping around your middle to pull you back onto him — a pathetic moan bursting from your lips as you sit properly on his fat cock.

“Mm, that’s it.” He’s got that sweet voice on, just a lilt of condescension in it. It makes you shiver, hands grappling to hold onto something — you find his thighs and brace yourself on them, head lolled back to lie on his shoulder. Steve continues, his words a murmur as he kisses along your shoulder and neck. “Y’so fucking pretty when you’re on my cock, honey, so pretty and so good.”

You whine, chest heaving and hole clenching around him— you miss the stimulation already, the intense pleasure fading but right as you begin to use your aching thighs to bounce, Steve’s entire arm wraps around your waist to hold you still.

You whine again, this time in complaint.

“Sh, sh, I know,” Steve says lowly, kissing up your neck. “Open your eyes f’me, sweetheart— see how good you look spread open on my cock, mm?”

Slickness gushes at his words and you peel your scrunched eyes open, seeing that he’s manoeuvred you both to be reflected in the mirror across the bed. His hairy thighs bracket yours and you looking devastatingly pretty all stretched out sitting on his cock, his entire chest pressed against your back. Steve’s arm around your middle squeezes, his other hand shaking up to pinch your nipple again. You squeal and clench, a shaky moan escaping your lips as you feel a bolt of pleasure. Steve watches the whole thing through the mirror, gaze heavy with lust.

“Fuck,” He mutters, tilting his head back for a moment. “You’re so hot, baby, I could just—”

You can feel him sit up straighter and then he shifts, his arm still holding you up as he fishes around for something in his bedside table. It only takes a few moments before he leans back up and he pushes something into your hands.

You tilt your head forward and your breath catches, heat exploding in your tummy at the sight of his polaroid camera.

Steve kisses your shoulder again, nudging your head towards the mirror. His arm still firm around your middle but the other traces down your side, trailing over your hip and wandering close to your inner thigh. You tremble.

“Take one,” Steve says, shifting his just a bit. It makes you shudder, a ripple of fire rolling through you. You clutch the camera tightly and all wrong. Steve nudges you again, voice raspy and low. “Take one and I’ll rub your clit til this pretty pussy is crying all over me,”

His hand swipes up your thigh meaningfully, close to your heat but not touching. “And then when you’re all whiney and embarrassed,” He murmurs. “I’ll fuck you into the mattress, okay baby? I’ll do all the work.”

Your hands fumble for the right buttons, righting the camera in your hand as you hold it out— your finger slipping and hitting the capture button too early. The flash is momentarily blinding and the whir of the camera blends with Steve’s taunting tsking.

“Baby,” He reprimands. He shifts his hips again purposefully, his cock pressing deeper inside you and you mewl pitifully. “Don’t waste film.” He reaches up to pinch your nipple as punishment.

You quiver around him, hands working to hold the camera right and this time you keep your finger off the button as you try to aim it correctly. It’s hard to tell what the shot will look like but you doubt Steve will want your face obscured by the camera. Right as you line it up as best you can, Steve hands shifts to cup your heat — palms hovering just off your clit. The camera tilts down as it shoots but you can’t catch it, can’t resist, your focus on bucking your hips forward to try meet friction.

Steve laughs a bit meanly, his hand moving up and away, without touching you. “Aw, honey, she feeling a bit neglected? Well, you know how to earn it.”

His fingers slide back down, spreading your lips with his fingers, so close you can feel the heat on your pulsing clit. He nudges your face towards the mirror once more, right as his other hand slithers up to curl around your throat loosely.

The flash goes off. Steve’s thumb presses into your clit and screw your face up and moan pathetically— until you cum on his cock, whiney and embarrassed, with Steve’s mean praise goading you through the whole thing.

And true to his word, when he pushes you down and fucks you into the mattress and makes you cum a second time, he does all work.

[thecrimsondandelion]

Idk what to do with these thoughts so putting them out there

Mechanic!Din, and Luke who, although is an absolute genius with cars/vehicles, on one occasion doesn’t have time to deal with an issue by himself

So he takes it to Din’s garage

But then he sees how handsome Din is and blue-screens

Din: So, what’s the problem?

Luke, gay-panicking: my car

Din: … uh huh. What’s wrong with it?

Luke: it’s broken :)

And Din assumes the pretty blond just has no idea about cars outside driving one (which he’s somewhat doubting even that, at that moment)

And Luke just keeps going back, with the smallest problems, even though he absolutely doesn’t need to. He pretends to know nothing about cars, and smiles and nods sweetly and listens carefully whenever Din explains something (even though he knows it already)

Leia and Han tease him mercilessly about it when they find out

[conundrumoftime]

Slightly surreal experience seeing people from one of my other ships confidently repeating that Tolkien never even said Galadriel and Celeborn were in love! and being like “??????” b/c that is one of the only things he did explicitly say about their marriage.

(and it doesn’t matter! it doesn’t cancel out any other ships! it certainly has not stopped me from shipping both of them with other characters as well as with each other! nobody has to take JRRT’s take on any elf marriage as The Truth anyway! and certainly you can (and I do) read all manner of tensions and sorrows into this particular marriage including what PRECISELY was going on in 2nd-Age Eregion! and people have different tastes on fictional ships anyway and my ‘fascinating millennia-long tensions within a marriage’ is someone else’s ’ugh they clearly hated each other’, sure! just kind of funny to me to see this specific claim when as a shipper of this particular ship, I’d have been so happy to see what Tolkien thought of the actual tensions instead of just a firm statement that they loved each other, is all.)

(first image is Unfinished Tales from ‘The History of Galadriel and Celeborn’, second is the Silmarillion, ‘Of the Noldor in Beleriand’)

[tetzoro]

the day the earth stood still is the day i felt your presence leave it, and then every day after that.

[whoblewboobear]

I will always love Lou Wilson for exclusively playing black characters and playing them unapologetically black and multifaceted. Warms my heart fr.

[kindlythevoid]

Y’all, y’all, I know this is (among many, many other things) the talk-about-your-fanfics site but I physically cannot talk about them without being prompted. However, because I am dying to talk about them, I have decided to do it in the format of an ask game.

What story (stories?) are you writing rn that you’ll most likely publish next? ∩(´∀`∩)

What story (stories?) are you writing rn that will most likely linger in your head for an undetermined period of time? (*´▽｀*)

What tropes do you like writing about the most? (´▽`ʃƪ)

Lore dump about the OCs (see tags for options)! (∩˃o˂∩)

One individual fun fact for each OC in the tags. ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ

Longest fic you’ve written (published or not)? ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

Shortest fic you’ve written (published or not)? ‹•.•›

Fic that is near and dear to your heart? ♡

Top three fics you’ve written (in author’s opinion)? ♡♡♡

Story Moodboard of choice (either you or author picks the story; author makes). (◡‿◡✿)

OC Moodboard of choice (either you or author picks the OC; author makes). ❀☉‿☉❀

Write another line in your WIP (rude, productive, but okay). ◔̯◔

Drop a playlist for a story! ♪♡♪

Umm… yeah, so feel free to reblog to use the ask game yourself!! Fingers crossed all those nervous writers get to lore dump, yeah?

[miiiwu]

need a TYO fic where they’re still being played by the wrong actor like that one scene in Bambi before they go to the launderette,, the existential horror and dysphoria of waking up and being played by the Wrong Actor and trying to fix it somehow (or carry on living in the Wrong Body,,, There’s Implications…)

[faiell]

It is the most flattering thing when someone asks me if my art is based off a fic, or if there's any fic with a similar portrayal to what I drew.

I've only gotten that sort of comment a handful of times but each time it makes me so happy bc fic is such an integral part of the fandom and i was able to capture some dynamic of them that has enough of an appeal that people would want to read something like it! 🥹🥹🥹

[chuluoyi]

a bit burnt out today — will answer asks tomorrow! :’)