#a close and affectionate relationship

[tweedfrog]

Extremely minor nitpicky annoyance but I really dislike how "egg" has basically become a fanon nickname for all the aegons before Aegon V up to and including the CONQUEROR like i think the whole point of a silly little nickname like egg out of Aegon was that 1. He was never meant to be the king he was the random 4th son of a 4th son with zero importance so he got a childish nickname and 2. Egg was raised very differently to other Aegons who assumed the throne and had??? I guess less self importance??? Initially at least he had less of the whole grandiose "the throne is MINE" BS going on which set him apart. Now given Summerhall he possibly didn't retain that personality but yk

I think him being called egg says something very specific about *this particular aegon* and idk I don't like the fact that it's kind of used as a general nickname now. The conqueror would probably eat someone who tried to call him Egg

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[ruporas]

drank too much

[ID: Digital Art of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. Vash’s body is turned slightly away from the viewer as he holds a staggering Wolfwood by his shoulder. He has one foot ahead of the other, the foot in the back used to stabilize himself from tipping over. Wolfwood is tethering into Vash, his weight pressed into him with his arms wrapped around Vash’s waist and his face is hidden away as he leans against Vash’s shoulder. Vash’s expression can be seen, his eyes wide and mouth tight-lipped, and his face is flushed red. A speech bubble comes out from Wolfwood, saying a drawled “Spikeyyy...”. The background are desaturated pastels of blue and green, showing night time, as they stand in the middle of an empty street that is also lit by the moon not depicted. Yellow light is seen coming from the inside of a saloon. End ID]

[violinsandblood]

messy polycule for the win

[canisalbus]

If Machete and Vasco were roommates before they became a couple, there had to have been moments of innocent touching/body contact, followed by deep gay panic.

.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance flicks on the lights and his soul damn near leaves his body.

“Jesus H. Christ one a one-wheeled motorbike, Pidge,” he gasps, hand pressed to his galloping heart. She doesn’t laugh — Pidge doesn’t laugh often — but Lance has learned to read her, in the year or so they’ve been in space. He recognises the twitch of her mouth, the flash in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your lock code is embarrassingly easy to guess,” she says in lieu of an answer. Lance smiles reflexively at the matter-of-fact, half chiding tone. He pulls finally away from the wall, having caught his breath, and starts rifling through his cabinet.

“Yeah?”

He hears the shuffle of blankets, the muffled hits on a pillow being shoved into a lap. When he glances out of the corner of his eyes, he finds her sat comfortably in the dead centre of his bed, criss-cross-applesauce, nails picking at the threads of his pillowcase and eyes blinking owlishly behind her glasses.

“Yes. Fifty eighth most common four letter password.” She pauses a moment. “Spelling F-A-R-T with numbers is very immature.”

Lance snickers. He’d forgotten what his password spelt, he’s used the same combo so long. “Is that right?”

“Yes. You should come up with something more secure. It was my second guess.”

“What was the first?”

Pidge doesn’t seem to notice his curious look. Her eyes are focused on the items in his hands, watching diligently as he sits on the floor next to a dish of water, squeezing some soap into his hands and rubbing it all over his bare legs. Her head is tilted with a similar look of inquiry.

“Your birthday. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Lance removes the cap from his razor and starts to carefully drag it down his calfs, rinsing it every two strokes in the water. Pidge watches with rapt attention.

Weirdo, Lance thinks, fondly and hypocritically.

It doesn’t take long for the questions to start firing off.

“What’s the point of shaving your legs?”

“Gets rid of the hair.”

“Why do you want to get rid of the hair?”

Lance takes a moment to gather his thoughts, answering truthfully. “Lots of reasons. Not all of them I’m proud of. I started mostly ‘cause Veronica did it and I used to do everything she did.” He pauses. A sad smile pulls on his lips, and he swallows around the comfortingly familiar lump in his throat. “Well. ‘Used to’. If she was here I’d probably still be puttering around after her.” He finds Pidge’s eyes and smiles at her, winking. “Older siblings are easy to hang off of, huh?”

Her mouth twitches. She breaks eye contact, resting her chin on her knees and moving the pillow under her legs. “No. Older siblings are annoying. And ridiculous. I once followed Matt around all day and wrote down every single time he said ‘ow’. He said in on average twenty-three times an hour.” She meets his eyes again, mouth pinched and eyebrows raised. “Your average is twenty-four.”

“I see.”

“You should tie your shoes.”

“Nah.” He taps the razor on the side of the dish, gently sliding it to the other side of him and switching his razor to his left hand. “Anyways. When I was your age I mostly did it ‘cause Ronnie did it. Helped with swimming, too. But as I got older…” He frowns. “As I got older, I started feeling like I had to, I guess. Like I was ugly if I didn’t.”

A pinprick of pain makes his hand still, lifting the blade from around his ankle. A tiny drop of blood swells at the base of it. He sets the razor down, quickly grabbing a towel and dabbing at the nick. Ankle wounds always bleed so much — it doesn’t even hurt anymore, but he can’t pull the towel away or he’ll stain the floor.

“…Do you feel that way now?”

Lance doesn’t answer for a long moment. He hears Pidge fidget, clicking her nails together. The blood finally slows enough for him to pull away the towel, and he resumes shaving the last half of his leg — much more slowly, this time.

“Not exactly,” he says carefully. “I recognize why I feel that way. I know where that pressure comes from, why it’s harmful. But it’s still…there. I still catch myself thinking cruel things; I have to spend a few minutes talking myself out of them. I tried stopping for about a year. I didn’t like it.”

He finally finishes swiping up the last line of soap, rinsing off his razor and then gently running a cold, wet cloth over his legs to get rid of any lingering suds.

“Do you think you’ll try to stop again?”

“Hm. I don’t think so. I like the feeling of smooth skin more than hairy skin, I’ve found. It’s nice on fresh sheets, plus sometimes hair tickles me and makes me jumpy. Plus, it’s easier to moisturize.”

“Ohhh,” Pidge says, and when Lance looks up there’s a real look of understanding on her face — not the practiced one she puts on when she doesn’t actually get something but doesn’t want to look dumb. “Like — it’s the same as why you don’t like jeans and socks.”

Lance smiles. “Exactly. I’d walk around in nothing but shorts and a big t-shirt, if I had the choice.” Legs clean and clean-shaven, he picks up his tube of lotion and starts dabbing dollops all over the skin. “That’s all I ever wore back home.”

“Arizona is freezing half the time!”

“Cuba,” Lance reminds her.

“Oh yeah,” she says again. “But what about when it rained?”

Lance shrugs. “Better to wear flip flops and get wet feet than wet socks. Wet socks are the worst.”

“Yeah.” She shudders. “Like prickly sweaters.”

He hums. The lotion smells like juniberries, which kind of smells like pineapple and hibiscus mixed with a strange, almost spicy scent. Not quite home, but close enough to be nice.

He doesn’t ask Pidge why she broke into his room while he was in the showers and sat in the dark waiting for him to get back. The same way he doesn’t press when she follows him down the halls, disappearing behind corners when he turns to look, or sits by his feet during movie night. He lets her be prickly with affection and learns to hear the undercurrent in her constant comments and rambles, learns to read her questions about every thing he does as curious rather than judgemental.

She would ice him out for weeks if he said it out loud, but there was this stray cat that lived near his house, when he was young. It hissed and spit and clawed if you came halfway near it; Mamá had forbidden him from trying in case it was sick. But he used to leave out water for it at night and sometimes even sneak Abuelo’s heating pad, and every once in a while it would let Lance sit near it without clawing him. Once it even attacked one of the older kids who used to chase him after school.

It’s no coincidence that Pidge always happens to be in the same room as him 90% of the time. Or that she can guess his passcode easily.

“Hey, Pidgeon,” he says, unwrapping the towel from his hair and starting to work in the leave in conditioner. “The lockcode on my snack drawer is the same as the room code. Just so you know.”

She stares at him for several minutes.

Her mouth twitches.

“I could have figured that out myself.”

“I know.”

“You’re weird.”

He smiles. “You too, nerd.”

[todorokis-girl]

Alright! I have some fluff ideas!

Could I please request shinso, hawks and dabi with an affectionate and oblivious reader, please? Like don't notice how close they get sometimes or how awkwardly they grabbed the boys arms.

Thank you!

masterlist

Shinso

In the bustling halls of U.A. High, Y/N often found themselves caught up in their own affectionate world. Shinso, with his cool demeanor and sharp wit, was often the target of Y/N's unintentional displays of closeness.

One afternoon, as they walked together, Y/N absentmindedly slipped their arm through Shinso's, not noticing the subtle blush that crept up his cheeks. "Oh, look at that cute cat poster!" Y/N exclaimed, pulling Shinso closer to get a better look. Shinso's heart raced, but he kept his composure, enjoying the warmth of their touch despite the curious glances from passing students.

During training sessions, Y/N's supportive nature shone through. "You were amazing out there!" they said, practically bouncing on their toes. Without thinking, Y/N grabbed Shinso's hand and squeezed it, their eyes sparkling with admiration. Shinso's breath hitched, his usual stoic expression softening as he gazed at them. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, secretly cherishing every accidental touch.

Hawks

Hawks, with his easygoing charm and playful demeanor, found himself often caught off guard by Y/N's innocent affection. During a mission briefing, Y/N leaned in close to point out something on the map, their breath tickling his ear. Hawks chuckled, trying to focus on the task at hand while his mind raced with the proximity of Y/N.

"You're such a good listener," Y/N said one day, wrapping their arms around Hawks from behind in an impromptu hug. Hawks felt his wings twitch with surprise, but he quickly melted into their embrace. "Well, it's easy when you're talking," he replied with a grin, his heart fluttering at the unintentional intimacy.

On a rare day off, they strolled through the city, Y/N's hand occasionally brushing against Hawks'. Each time, a shiver ran down his spine. "Look at that bird!" Y/N pointed out, grabbing his arm to steady themselves as they peered into the sky. Hawks' pulse quickened, and he silently thanked the universe for giving him someone so obliviously affectionate.

Dabi

Dabi, with his tough exterior and fiery personality, was perhaps the most perplexed by Y/N's unintentional closeness. One evening, as they sat together by a crackling fire, Y/N shifted closer, their shoulder pressing against his. Dabi tensed, unused to such casual intimacy, but he didn't pull away.

"You must be cold," Y/N said, wrapping their scarf around both of them without a second thought. Dabi blinked, taken aback by the gesture. "I'm fine," he muttered, though he secretly reveled in the warmth of their shared scarf.

During a heated battle, Y/N rushed to Dabi's side, checking him for injuries. "You scared me!" they said, clutching his arm tightly. Dabi's usual smirk faltered, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm fine, really," he assured, though he couldn't ignore the way his skin tingled where they touched.

Even in the midst of chaos, Y/N's oblivious affection was a beacon of light for Dabi. Whether it was an accidental brush of their hand or an unplanned embrace, he found himself drawn to their warmth, cherishing every moment of their innocent closeness.

[her-penetrating-soul]

"I want to whisper poetry into your mind and imprint love letters to your soul and dance with you in an empty white room of potential."

~Jeffrey McDaniel

[pianokantzart]

The urge I get to rip my flipping eyeballs out at proships🙃

It’s even made me hesitate to write the brothers showing brotherly love to each other in fear of people tagging it as ship *inhuman screeching noises*

Honestly, after surviving the trenches of the TMNT fandom, I feel like I've gotten pretty good at ignoring the bs.

Proshippers can pry platonically sharing a bed and washing each other's hair and cuddling and play fighting and falling asleep leaning against each other and laying in the grass watching the stars together out of my cold dead hands.

[philtstone]

hello shules nation just saw the Very Close Talking episode properly for the first ever time & i can feel the 9 yr old in me being fundamentally changed forever

[beeh0rnz]

The scrunklies <3333

[demigodofhoolemere]

Helen and Siegfried’s friendship means the world to me

[moe-broey]

Winter concpets.....

(these first ones are At Least a year old 😭😭😭)

First up, a Winter Sharena concept!

And a little comic about it

The last panel would have been Sharena begging to "steal Alfonse's body warmth" while Alfonse subtly/sarcastically teases her about it, Moe trailing behind them (I lost steam/focus though 🥲)

This was The Year Of Bruno as well, and I was testing out/playing with the scenario presented (From the Tempest Trials and from what Winter Bruno says, it seems Alfonse and Sharena spent the holiday together while the Summoner was spending it with Bruno the Envoy)

(funny aspect of this is I don't even really enjoy "why does so and so call you babygirl" jokes anymore LMFAOOO like. Nothing wrong w em and was a decent set up here, but Moe would Not Fucking Say That skskksk) (also you can Tell this is Early On in Moe's development bc its fangs aren't even piercings 😔)

This year I Did revisit Winter Concepts, espp wanting to redo my Idea of a winter Moe who's helping out Bruno with Envoy Duty

All it needed was to become more of a furry and some loose BDSM gear inspo 👍 I was also thinking about a few different things! Like how Bruno's fit is literally just his regular outfit with some Santa suit on top LMFAO. But I was also thinking about how Moe is probably not meant to be recognized here? If it is hanging out with Bruno? Who is actively avoiding being seen by Alfonse and Sharena? So Moe keeps the shoes/tights, but little else!

Final version would have most closely resembled this one!

And another little comic

Once again I'm parsing how okay well how are they interacting with each other. What's the vibe here?

I wanted to draw a bigger piece of them hanging out, maybe spending the night together by the fire with hot cocoa after a hard day's work (again thinking about how it's implied the summoner spent the holiday separately from Alfonse/Sharena). I may revisit the concept again, I feel like there's a lot of potential story-focused comic wise here.... and a lot of set up for some funny conflict later.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[ievaxol]

This one is kinda cheating but:

Seike #3 👀👀👀

På andra sidan jorden är vi samma kött och blod Det är nåt som aldrig kommer ändras När vi tittar upp så ser vi ändå samma sol

Liten & Lost - Myra Granberg

Alisaie's hand hovers in the air like a question. The door to Seike's quarters looms large and uninviting in front of her and she's already started the march back to her own room twice before angrily circling back, glaring at the door as though it would simply give way.

It's just -- it's been a long time.

There is a sucking pit in her stomach and every time she blinks she is half asleep again, transported back to the nightmare that woke her and she really needs some company but it's been a year and it's the middle of the night on top of that, she really should just go back to her room and wait it out, Seike is probably asleep --

The door swings open, because while her head was busy running wild her body knows the familiar motions and let Alisaie's hand fall twice on the wood.

Seike is the very picture of exhaustion, hair tossed back in a messy bun and slouching in a way she'd never be caught dead doing otherwise -- but her red-rimmed eyes light up upon seeing Alisaie.

Alisaie attempts stoicism but it melts away the moment Seike places an arm around her shoulder and leads her inside; she lists against her with a shuddering breath, so grateful for the company she can barely process it.

"Alisaie!"

Of course Alphinaud is already here. A smile tugs at the corners of Alisaie's mouth at seeing him sitting on Seike's bed, duvet covers piled around him and a cup of tea in hand.

"Little brother." She acknowledges him with an exaggerated, haughty sniff and is rewarded with a shaky grin.

"No fighting now," Seike murmurs, squeezing Alisaie closer for a moment before she lets go and heads toward the tea kettle. "It's way past your bedtime."

Alisaie crawls onto the bed with Alphinaud, scuffing him aside and unashamedly stealing a little more than half the covers. He shoves her shoulder in retaliation, but she can tell it's mostly the ritual of it.

"Trouble sleeping?" He asks quietly and she shrugs noncommittally. "Me too."

They fall into silence until Seike returns and presses a cup of steaming herbal tea into Alisaie's hands, following up with a playful flick at the tip of her nose.

"We say thanks for the tea in this room."

"Thanks," Alisaie says dutifully and then sticks her tongue out just to see Seike smile, quietly glad that some of the fatigue seems to lift as she does.

Alphinaud hums next to her and Seike rakes his fringe back with her fingers, affection bleeding out of her and crowding out every single bad thought, every last dreg of nightmare -- for both of them, Alisaie imagines.

Sometimes Alisaie thinks about the fact that Seike had an entire village of siblings before them, and her heart aches with it; sometimes it feels as though Seike didn't know what to do with all the love that remained when they were gone, and Alisaie is selfishly glad that she and Alphinaud can share in it.

While she hasn't worked up the courage to tell Seike straight out that she regards her as an older sister and that she knows for a fact Alphinaud does as well, she is comfortable enough to demand that she sits down in front of them so they can play with her hair.

"I missed you both," Seike says so quiet it's near lost to the night, and Alisaie feels a lump form in her throat.

"Likewise," they echo.

Morning finds the three of them sound asleep, draped over each other like fox kits.

[chushanye]

been seeing an increasing number of "women and men can't stay friends after that man gets into a relationship" posts (on Instagram, to be clear) and i gotta say that shit is always so fucking sad to me.

and i legit think this wouldn't be playing out like this if people were taught to be normal about aro and/or ace people and queerplatonic relationships. because it's crazy to me that the solution is "stop being close" and NOT "it is possible to develop deeply nourishing non-romantic relationships and work on developing trust in your romantic relationships"

the way romantic relationships are seen as the penultimate from of relationship everyone should strive for and the way that intersects with heteronormativity to create this environment where i read shit like "im a girls girl. i stoped huggung my best friend when he got a girlfriend so she doesn't feel threatened" that's sad. thats just fucking sad. what