#a lot of fic needs a lot of time <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[tired-and-ticklish]

Bonding Exercise

Sequel to “Rough Day”

Summary: Angel and Husk try to escape Charlie’s new idea for a bonding exercise, but The Princess, her girlfriend, and a certain Radio Demon are persistent.

TW: Tickling (slightly intense), Swearing, Slight Restraints, Alastor being a bastard, References to Alastor’s past, Angel Dust being Angel Dust.

Disclaimer: I do not support V*v*z*epop, I simply like the characters and exploring their dynamics, usually in silly ways.

Part Three

“One~”

Despite the distance the two demons had put between themselves and the Radio Demon, they both could clearly hear his voice, accentuating how absolutely fucked they were. Angel was a bit faster, his longer legs giving him an advantage, but Husk wasn’t far behind, running quicker than he ever had in his life or unlife.

“Split up!” Angel exclaimed, quickly turning down a random hallway.

“Don’t need to fucking tell me twice!” Husk replied, almost skidding to a halt as he course-corrected down an entirely different hallway.

Charlie stopped upon seeing them both go in different directions, pouting slightly “Now who do we go after?”

“How about you two go after our effeminate fellow, and I’ll go after Husker?” Alastor suggested, though Vaggie raised an eyebrow.

“We’re not trying to torture them.” The bodyguard replied, to which the deer waved a hand.

“If I intended to torture either of those two, everyone would know.” Alastor replied, the radio effects of his voice becoming more sinister, but just for a moment. “No, I simply think our dear bartender needs to smile a bit more!”

“Come on Vaggie, I think I know where Angel’s running!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing her girlfriend by the arm before she could protest and starting down a different hallway.

Vaggie couldn’t help but give Charlie a smile, despite thinking the whole idea was a bit ridiculous. Still, it gave her an excuse to get Angel back for all the times the spider demon had messed with them, or done anything that pushed back his ‘progress.’ She also knew she couldn’t find it in herself to say ‘no’ to the Princess, especially when she got that determined glimmer in her eyes.

“Good luck, darlings!” Alastor called as they both ran off, before continuing his own pursuit of the bartender.

—

Angel ran as fast as his legs could carry him, listening for any signs of his pursuers. All he needed to do was get to his room and barricade himself in there until Charlie forgot this whole dumb idea. However, Hell was more likely to freeze over than its Princess giving up or forgetting any of her ideas.

The spider knew his room was close, and he hadn’t seen or heard any of the purseres. Maybe that all went after Husk? A small shudder went up Angel’s spine as he looked behind him. As much as he did not want to be tickled again, the idea of the cat demon being tickled by Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor was a fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone in the hotel.

“Oh Angel!” He was torn from his thoughts, looking forward and almost screaming as he saw The Princess and her girlfriend, waiting right in front of his door.

“Found you.” Vaggie said, grinning mischievously.

Angel attempted to turn on his heel, but couldn’t slow down enough for it to be effective. His legs got tangled in one another, and he tumbled to the floor, groaning as he did. Before he could even attempt to get up and flee, the girls were upon him, Vaggie holding his upper pair of arms over his head, while Charlie straddled his waist.

“L-Ladies please,” Angel attempted to beg, tugging his arms as best he could. “Y-You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, we know.” Vaggie said with a sly grin. “But we want to.”

Charlie immediately started skittering her figures on Angel’s stomach, making the spider snicker. Angel attempted to shove the Princess off with his lower set of arms, but anytime he tried, Charlie would ‘accidentally’ tickle a bit harder, making him lose focus. 

“C-Chaahahaharlihihihihe wahahahait!”

“Awww but Angel, you look so happy right now!”

“Behehehecause yohohohou’re tihihihihckling mehehehe!”

Angel squealed as Charlie’s claws made their way to his lower set of armpits, shaking his head. In his attempts to plead with the Princess, he didn’t notice until it was too late that Vaggie had changed her position, pinning his upper arms with her legs, soon feeling her fingers on his ribs.

“EEP! NohhoohoHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHerehehehe!” Angel shrieked, his face turning a light pink shade.

“Hey, Angel, do you have more or less ribs as a spider?” Vaggie asked, ignoring his pleas. “Guess I need to double check.”

“Dohohohon’t YOHOHOOHHOU DAHAHAHRE, Vahahahahagina!”

The pornstar felt Vaggie stop tickling him for a moment, making him realize he had just dug his own second grave. Any begging he could have done was soon cut off by the feeling of the hotel guard’s fingers slowly and torturously dragging over his ribs, followed shortly by her counting.

“SHIHIHIHIT SIHIHIHHIT IHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHRRY!” Angel cried out, kicking his legs as the girls continued tickling him.

“Two… three… Fiv- Wait, that’s not right.” The spider could practically hear the smirk in Vaggie’s voice “Can you hold still? I’m trying to count.”

“IHIHIHIHI CAHHAHAAN’T!” Angel whined

“Aww, sure you can Angel!” Charlie said encouragingly. “I’ll even go slower so you can focus!”

At that, Angel felt Charlie’s tactic switch from scribbling on his lower armpits, and a finger on each one just slowly start circling around the hollows, driving him up a wall. It tickled just enough to get him giggling, but also left him wanting more. The spider was starting to get the suspicion that somehow, someway, the girlfriends had gotten Cherri Bomb to tell them exactly how to destroy him.

“Five… six… Huh, you’re actually doing a good job.” Vaggie said as she tickled between his ribs “Guess the redemption work is paying off.”

“Well, he hasn’t asked us to stop.” Charlie pointed out, making Angel’s face turn an even darker shade of pink. “Maybe he’s enjoying this~?”

Fuck, despite how kind Charlie was, she was absolutely fucking evil when it came to tickling. 

—-

Alastor hummed as he casually walked the direction Husk went. Sure, the Radio Demon could simply summon the bartender to him, but where was the fun in that? If there was one thing he loved more than the act of killing, it was the thrill of the chase. The fear and desperation in people’s eyes, the absolute panic that washed over as they were cornered, before he descended upon them.

An expression he’d like to see on that obnoxious, pompous, piece of shit television one day.

It was an expression he had seen Husker make many times over their years knowing each other. Though, often that was because the cat had done something to make the deer angry. Now? Now, Alastor would be seeing the hotel’s dear bartender making that expression for an entirely different reason.

It was one of the reasons he suggested to be the one to go after Husk. Not just due to their longer time knowing each other, but because the Radio Demon was already aware of what would cause the cat to break from his usual grumpy demeanor. Surely, people would assume Alastor of all people would think tickling was a waste of time, but oh, how he enjoyed it.

Spending time with both Husk and Niffty, he had learned a few things. Specifically, the maid wasn’t at all ticklish, whereas the bartender was entirely too ticklish for his own good. If nothing else, Alastor was known for dealing in extremes.

“Ah, there you are!” Alastor exclaimed, seeing Husk had run himself into a corner, the cat quickly turning to look at him.

“Shit, fuck, dammit!” A string of expletives left the bartender’s mouth as he tried to look for a way to escape. Any hopes of that were cut off by the shadows that followed the Radio Demon pinned the cat to the wall. “Look, boss, t-this whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Oh, on the contrary, Husker, I think this will be quite enjoyable!” Alastor said, looking the bartender over. So many good places to start, and each eliciting a different reaction from Husk.

Husk, meanwhile, tried to free himself. If he hadn’t known any better, the cat would have assumed Alastor somehow planned all of this. Which, he really couldn’t put past the deer, but planning for Nift to tickle Angel, leading to this whole thing? That was the type of planning not even the Radio Demon could come up with.

Mostly because no one could really ‘plan’ for anything with it came to the hotel maid.

“I recall this,” Alastor began, the claws on his right hand gently wiggling on Husk’s chin. “Being a wonderful place to start.”

The reaction was instant, the cat’s fur quickly puffing up slightly as he bit his lip. He wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction, not if he could help it. Of course, he had tried, and failed, in the past, but that didn’t mean he was just going to give in to the Radio Demon’s antics.

“Still trying that tactic, are we?” The deer hummed in amusement, moving his other hand to Husk’s side. “I never understand why you must make things so difficult!”

A few snickers came out, but the bartender was determined, trying to squirm away from Alastor’s hands. Said hands simply followed where the cat moved. Now, Alastor could use his powers to tickle multiple spots at once, but that was something reserved for those who pissed him off enough to face his wrath, but not enough to where he’d be satisfied by killing them.

“You know, Husker,” Alastor said casually, like he wasn’t tickling the demon before him. “When we were filming that ridiculous commercial for the hotel, I had half a mind to have our darling Niffty tickle you, just off-camera, so you’d be smiling!”

“Bihihihihite me!” Husk replied, doing his best to glare at the Overlord.

“A poor choice of words, considering who you’re talking to.” The Radio Demon chuckled, now slowly moving his left hand toward the bartender’s side. “You should really think before you speak.”

Husk tried to growl at Alastor, but it was cut off by the ticklish feeling on his side. More snickers gave way, the cat demon’s lips forming a wobbly smile despite his best efforts. He felt the deer’s right hand move from his chin and start poking his ribs, making the bartender snort a bit. He knew the deer was messing with him, taking his time before going right for Husk’s death spot.

“I never tire of counting your ribs, Husker.” Alastor mused. “Afterall, I need to make sure you’re all together!”

“Yohohohohou cohohohohocky bahahahastard!” Husk retorted.

Alastor tsked, and the cat felt himself start to panic as the Overlord’s hands went toward his stomach. “Always with the fowl language, that should be reserved for birds!”

If Husk could groan, he would. Of course Alastor had to get one of his stupid ‘jokes’ in while the bartender couldn’t just walk out of the room. Though, the puns did help whenever the Radio Demon wanted Angel Dust to leave him alone. He didn’t know what was worse, the Overlord’s love of ‘dad jokes’, or his insatiable sadistic streak. 

“Wohohohuld yoohohhou stohohohp- FUHUUHUHUHCK!” Husk exclaimed as Alastor scratched and clawed at his stomach. The first of the bartender’s worst spots.

Once he was sure Husk couldn’t escape, Alastor snapped his fingers, causing the shadows to let him go as the bartender slid to the floor, still trying to run away from the Radio Demon’s fingers. The deer poked and prodded, even circling a finger slowly around where the cat’s belly button would be.

“Don’t cats enjoy having their stomachs petted?” Alastor teased, a small laugh track coming from him.

“THAHAHAT’S dohohohohohgs yohohoHOHOHO PRIHIHIHICK!”

“Ah, forgive me.” Alastor said, not at all sounding apologetic “I was never a ‘dog’ person. Cats are much more amusing!”

“Thhihihihihis IHIHIHISN’T AMUHuhuhuhuhumsing!”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, but you wouldn’t be laughing if it wasn’t!”

Husk was going to kill him. Okay, no, he wasn’t that stupid or reckless, but he was going to make sure the Radio Demon paid for this. However, Husk’s plans of revenge were cut off by the feeling of two of Alastor’s tendrils stroking his wings, causing the bartender to scream with laughter.

“You know, I think Niffty needs to brush your wings soon, when was the last time she did that?” Alastor asked, despite knowing Husk wouldn’t be able to answer.

Despite both Angel and Husk being tickled out of their minds, they both hated to admit they were having fun. Maybe Charlie’s idea wasn’t so dumb.

[fuumiku]

Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

[vulpixisananimal]

"And you're absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure about this?" (Isabeau asked, he looked at you, concerned. He had worried about you all morning, helping you get ready for the day, checking for bruises, for anything wrong at all. But no, the only issue you had was the same issue you had yesterday.)

"I'm sure, absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure." (You nod. It was, it was the only place you could think to go.)

(The Favor Tree.)

(You were going to be useless in the house. Drag them all down, get them killed, fail over and over again if you just ran into that brick wall called the House of Change. No, no what you needed, was, some time alone.)

(It took some convincing, but eventually, everyone agreed. Isabeau would help you to the Favor Tree, sit you down, and you'd wait for them to return. You tried to subtelty give them tips, hints on how to get through the house without you, but it was hard without giving anything away.)

(They would be the heros this loop, you'd just be another frozen soul in Dormont, unless you looped back beforehand, naturally.)

"I-I could still carry you! I wouldn't mind! I can beat sadness AND help you through the house!" (Isa was practicly begging, but you couldn't go, not this time at least.)

(You chuckled, and smiled.) "Hey don't worry, I'll be waiting for you right where you leave me, okay?"

"Ha, haha. ." (The laugh was forced. Jokes wouldn't help warm the air here.)

(Eventually, the two of you ended up at the Favore Tree. It loomed above you; imposing, menacing, taunting. You kept your forced smile, Isabeaus arm holding you up. You still. Couldn't. Fell. It.)

". . . The Favor Tree's pretty cool, isn't it?" (Isabeau says.)

"Yeah it is. . ." (Ah you knew this line.)

"Glad you agree!"

(Make the pun. Make the pun it's the one thing you gotta do each time to stay sane just, make the pun.) "One could say it's a pretty. . ."

". . Uh huh?"

"Tree-mendous tree!" (You say, just like before.)

". . Heh, hehaha! Ha!" (Isabeau laughs, you laugh. This time at least it wasn't as forced but. . . You could still tell he wasn't happy with it. With your whole situation.)

(He doesn't reach for you. Good thing too, you couldn't step back either.)

"Any place you want to be set down, or. . ." (Isa asks)

"Oh uh, just that root over there." (You gesture with a nod. Isa helps you over and sits you down, leaning your back against the tree. He steps back. He was looking at you, his face was full of, pitty? Great, it was pitty.)

"And, you're absolutely, sure?"

"I'm sure, Isa, okay? I promise." (You keep smiling.) "See you after the day's saved, okay?"

". . . Okay, I-I'll, I'll see you. Later. I'll see you later. After we're back."

"You'll do great! Isa! Big buff guy Isabeau! You'll do great!"

"Yeah!!! It'll go great!!" (Isabeau finally smiled back. As forced as it was.)

(He waved, you smiled back, he walked away. You wait untill he's gone. A beat, two, three, four. . .)

(. . .)

(. . . . . . . .)

". . . . Wow Stardust! You've really caused quite the stir!" (And in an instant that familiar voice filled your ears. You turn your head and sure enough, Loop was there. Oh Loop. Reliable, wonderful, annoying as hell. They didnt have a mouth but those eyes were all they needed to grinn.) "You have Isabeau carting you around like royalty! My, lucky you!"

"Loop. . ." (Your breathing gets heavy.)

"Was it all to get more time with me, Stardust? You know you could have just snuck out~"

"Loop I, I can't-" (Your stomach hurts.)

"What, can't move?!?" (Loop huffed, looking away.) "Come on, Stardust! You went back in time! So what if the King snapped your spine, it's fine now!"

"But, it's not-" (Why didn't they believe you?)

"It's fine!! It has to be fine!!" (Their tone changes, angry, or-) "You changed time!! Whatever you did it doesn't matter now!! It gets, turned, back!!"

"THEN WHY CAN'T I DO ANYTHING?!?" (You yell, you yell and yell. You yell and cry.) "WHY CAN'T I FEEL ANYTHING?!? WHY CAN'T I MOVE?!?! WHY AM I JUST, SO, USELESS?!?!?!"

(Loop doesn't reply. You keep crying, you can't, you can't stop yourself.)

"I can't do anything!! I'm useless!!! A sack of rocks to be hauled around!! I can't do anything by myself, always needing help!!! Do you think I want that?!?"

"I can't move!! I CAN'T MOVE!!!! I can't check for traps!! I can't look for keys!! I can't fight I can't walk I can't eat I can't flip pages of a book I can't do ANYTHING!!!"

"We'll never make it out!!! We're STUCK here!!! AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!!"

(You were sobbing, you couldn't stop. You were stuck here. You couldn't move, you couldn't fight, walk, win, live, do anything. You'd never escape, you'd never get out.)

(You're doomed.)

(It's quiet. You don't know for how long it's quiet for. You sob, unable to stop, eye squeezed closed. Loop doesn't say anything. You hear the wind rustle the leaves of the Favor Tree. You feel the sun on your face.)

(You calm down, taking a few deep breaths, one, two, three, four, five, sex, seven. You're okay, you're fine, you're okay now, you're.)

(You're. Over. It.)

". . . . . . Siffrin, I. . ." (Loops voice. You don't open your eye.) ". . . . I'm sorry."

". . . It's fine."

"No! It's not fine!" (They huff.) "If- since it looks like you really are stuck like this, we need, a new plan."

". . ." (You sigh.)

"You won't be getting anywhere by moping Stardust~" (Loop giggles.) "Who knows! This could be some twisted blessing in disguise!"

"Yeah right. . ." (You roll your eye.)

". . . Well? Are you just going to sit there being sorry for yourself?"

"Sorry, let met just stand up and be sorry somewhere else." (You stick your tongue out.)

"Hah! Hahahaha!!" (Loop laughs, and claps their hands together.) "Well now that you're feeling better, how can I help you out on this wonderful new loop, Stardust?"

[tunastime]

hiccuping tears into the shoulder + ranchers by chance?

hiccuping tears into their shoulder (1087 words) (x)

For the first time in a good, long portion of his life, Tango despises how silent the night gets. It's not without its natural noise—the balmy, sticky humidity and breeze in the grass, or the crickets, the cicadas quieting down, the sounds of animals rearranging themselves to a comfier sleeping arrangement. He should be doing the same, but he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his spine a rigid line. He can feel the blood in his body, he can feel the spaces where his muscles connect to each other, with every breath he can feel his lungs separate out the oxygen. It's at the very least startling, and at the very most, he feels like he might dissolve on the spot if touched. 

Tango knows how death feels—painless respawn and a few seasons of a life game behind him, but to feel someone else die, too. The echo of death alongside your own. He didn't like that! Not good at all. All his blood and heartbeat-y things are rushing around in his ears. He doesn't even hear Jimmy the first time he speaks up from the other side of the bed, with how his voice scrapes out.

"I didn't know they were aiming for us," Jimmy says.

"Of course not," Tango says, furrowing his eyebrows. "I know you didn't."

He's still looking at his hands, running his thumb over the lines in his palm and pushing into the tiny bones and muscle there. Jimmy flexes his hands like he can feel the pressure and bones moving around. He watches him fold his hand tight around each other and slump, pulling his shoulders to his chest. His breath squeezes in his chest as Jimmy deflates tiredly.

"I just don't want you to think—"

"I'm not gonna think this is your fault, alright?" Tango says, frowning at him. "Why would I?"

Jimmy sighs. His jaw works.

"Cause it usually is," he grits. Tango scrunches his nose on instinct, recoiling out of habit before he manages:

"That's not fair, man."

"This whole game isn't far!" Jimmy huffs, waving a hand about.

"Sure but—"

"But nothing, Tango. I just—I can't lose and drag you with me. That's more than not fair."

"I don't care."

"I care."

Before Tango can argue, though, he tastes the faintest hints of anger and frustration at the back of his mouth fade. He watches Jimmy's face contort as he tries to come up with a better sentence, something he probably thinks Tango deserves. Maybe an apology. 

Tango just looks at him. He kind of feels bad, that little bit of gut wrenching cold that trickles in, but mostly he's just confused. Jimmy's words bat around in his brain like dust particles. Dust bunnies. He definitely assumed they were done with this. That maybe Jimmy made peace like he did—though really he hadn't had that much time to make peace, if he's being honest. He's still bitter. He's sure a lot of people are still bitter. But in terms of Jimmy's whole situation? It's not like it could be helped. They just had to be careful. So Tango was being careful, and Jimmy was taking what Tango thought was a calculated risk, so he was mad, sure, but he couldn't really stay mad for a long time. So he takes a long breath and sighs it out his nose. It still tastes surprisingly reminiscent of smoke.

"So what are we going to do?" he asks softly. Jimmy inhales.

"I don't know," he says. "Go to bed? Wake up and start planning?"

Tango hums plainly. He likes that idea. The small spool of feeling in his chest that must belong to Jimmy gives a little tug, like it wanted to take him down with it. 

"Yeah," Tango says, voice coming hoarse. "Yeah, I think so."

For a moment, Tango runs his tongue over his teeth, runs his thumbs over the seams of his knees. He sighs, and then he leans into Jimmy's shoulder with a definitive huff. He's tired. From the ache in his bones, to the breathlessness of dying, to just taking in Jimmy's stress. Man. He's exhausted. Jimmy snorts quietly. He feels him press his cheek against Tango's head. The hand Jimmy had been fiddling with in his lap ends up at the base of his spine, splayed over the fabric. Tango squeezes his eyes shut.

"Thanks Tango," Jimmy says shakily. He sounds like he's on the knife's edge of crying, so Tango fumbles out a hand and lands it solidly on his knee. It's not a terribly comfortable thing to stretch one of his achy shoulders or biceps that far but he does anyway, and Jimmy huffs out a damp laugh. "Guess I'm just... pissed off."

Tango snorts.

"If you think you're pissed, just wait until they rile me up," he says into the fabric of Jimmy's shirt. Jimmy laughs. Tango tries to hold in a grin that he also smothers into his shoulder, but fails. Jimmy's hand skips over his knuckles and squeezes the hand on his knee.

"Sure thing, Rancher," he teases. Tango makes a half-suppressed noise of indignation, squeaking as he bolts upright. He nearly knocks into Jimmy's jaw as he untangles himself with all the grace of a cat trying to weasel out of someone's arms. 

"I'm just sayin'," he grumbles, crinkling his nose. "You seem like you're in a better mood though."

Jimmy sighs, rounding out his shoulders. 

"Think so," he says, working his cheek between his teeth. Tango feels the sensation of prodding in his mouth. Bleh. "Think so."

"Probably a good idea to make good on that sleeping... thing,” he says, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. He barely stifles a yawn as Jimmy stretches, twisting his tall body around in a way that feels surprisingly pleasant to Tango’s stiff muscles. He can’t imagine, especially with the way Jimmy holds all his emotions in his shoulders, that his upper back is doing him any favors. Jimmy makes a little noise in confirmation as Tango turns, attempting to make ample space for him in the small bed. He knows they’ll end up back to back at some point, but as he lies down, shoulder to shoulder, an easy comfort rolls over him. Sure there’s all the red blood rushing around in his ears, and sure he feels it right up on his skin like a bad rash, but for now, next to Jimmy, he shuts his eyes.

They’ll make this time count for something, at least.

[gwinverarrouz]

A timeline of Bisig!! Since I've decided her birthday was in July, I felt it was time for a little retrospective :>

Thought it'd be fun to see how the way I've drawn her has evolved over the years!

[arcanegifs]

[pippytmi]

For the fake dating thing 11 with whomever you want!

“Do you always get into fist fights on first dates, or am I just lucky?”

There is a bruise already forming on Kara’s jaw, and her hand still has a phantom ache that won’t go away. There might be a touch of blood on the lapel of her shirt, too, but she has been unable to confirm without ready access to a mirror. But it’s this—the firm click of silver six-inch heels against pavement announcing Lena’s arrival—that brings Kara an instant sense of uneasiness.

“It’s kind of in the job description,” Kara shrugs off the rhetorical question. “You know, of being a girlfriend.”

Lena Luthor has an uncanny ability to make Kara feel completely, totally inept in any situation just with a quizzical quirk of an eyebrow and a ruby-red lipsticked frown. Not because she deliberately tries to, but because that’s just the Luthor™ way. Every member of that family seems to have mastered the ability to stare hard enough to make anyone squirm. Even though Kara has known Lena since they were kids—even though they know each other better than anyone else in the world—the effect is the same.

“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve said all night.” Despite her stoic expression, Lena’s voice is surprisingly soft. “You should have walked away.”

“That would have been worse than not punching Mike Matthews, I think,” Kara says. “Really, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m supposed to defend your honor, or… whatever the saying is.”

And the strangest thing happens; a glimpse of amusement cracks through Lena’s frown, visible in the ever-so-gentle upturn of the corner of her mouth. “Sorry, did I miss the part where we time traveled a hundred years ago?”

“It’s—you know what I mean,” Kara says. “If I was your real girlfriend everyone would expect me to punch guys in the face for you.”

“Or,” Lena counters, “it might be overkill, since everyone knows you are not inherently a violent person.”

Kara sheepishly tugs at her collar, unable to stop herself from flushing when Lena gazes at her so pointedly. “Does it matter if everyone who meets Mike wants to punch him? Because I’m pretty sure he could make a nun violent.”

“Wow,” Lena says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a mean thing about anyone before this.”

“Yeah, well…” Kara grimaces. “Mike Matthews brings it out of me. Or maybe this stuffy party does.” Her hand unconsciously goes back to her jacket, and she has to shrug it off all at once, suddenly feeling constricted in her suit. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Lena must be far more uncomfortable than Kara is, with those high heels and the skintight dress and the overall burden of familial expectations hanging on her shoulders, but she masks it remarkably well. “Practice,” she says—sighs. “And whiskey.”

“Gross,” Kara says, unconsciously crinkling her nose as she works at undoing her tie next. “I’m more of a Capri Sun girl myself.”

A short, stunned laugh emerges before Lena can likely quell it. “Right, how could I forget,” she says, and tilts her head in that curious way she does whenever she has a question she isn’t sure how to ask. But it must pass, because her actual question comes out in the form of: “Is there a reason you’re stripping in full view of the paparazzi?” 

“Fan service?” It’s a weak joke, but it makes Lena roll her eyes in that mock-exasperated way that Kara knows would be a laugh out of anyone else. “I just need to cool off, maybe. Then I promise, I’ll be your doting girlfriend for all the cameras again.” She allows a beat before she adds, perhaps unnecessarily, “Without any violence.”

“Yes, I think my mother would very much prefer that.”

Kara laughs, remembering the horrified look on Lillian Luthor’s face with—admittedly—a bit of glee. “Yeah,” she says, “I’m sure she’s thrilled with how tonight is going.”

“Well, she does think it’s all part of a rebellious phase,” Lena muses. “She’s convinced I’m doing this just to spite her.”

Kara has felt the brunt of Lillian’s disapproval back since she first befriended Lena when they were kids, back when they were auditioning for the same movie. Honestly, there is no telling why Lillian has always disliked Kara. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a nepotism baby like all the rest of crowd, or maybe it was because Kara would sneak Lena out of the giant Luthor mansion to go to the movies, or maybe it was because when they were teenagers Kara had wrecked the Porsche (on a dare)...but that disdain has been steadfast ever since they were young, and it’s never once wavered. Everyone knows it. Lena knows it.

Which is why Kara is unable to keep the confusion out of her voice when she says, “Uh. Aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I…what?” Lena repeats, lost.

“Pretending to date me to spite her?” Kara prompts. “You know. Since she hates me?”

Lena’s brow furrows ever-so-slightly. “I didn’t mean dating you,” she says. “I mean dating in general. She thinks it’s a distraction.” She absentmindedly picks at one of the sequins on her dress, a nervous tic that she has never been able to shake. “God, it’s getting cold out here.”

The temperature is just right for Kara, but Lena has always run cold; Kara’s poked fun at her for it once or twice (or for their entire childhood, but who’s keeping track). An unbidden smile, fonder than it has any right to be, inevitably forms. “Well sit down, so you can leech some of my body heat. Besides, you make me tired just looking at you in those heels.”

“Then I’ll be colder,” Lena objects, eyeing the stone of the fountain edge that Kara is currently sitting on. “No way.”

“You’re the most high maintenance fake girlfriend ever,” Kara feigns annoyance. “Here, then. Sit on my lap. And you can put my jacket over your legs.”

It’s hard to exactly tell with the dim lighting of the streetlights, but Lena—blushes? Maybe? And immediately shakes her head. “I’m too heavy.”

“No such thing,” Kara retorts. “I’ll keep stripping if you don’t sit down, Lena. Then your mother will really have a reason to hate me.”

“You are trying to create scandal everywhere you can tonight, aren’t you?” Lena says, but doesn’t move, only crosses her arms and gives Kara an exasperated look. “It would be a hell of a front page.”

“Wow, Lena, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” Kara says, undoing the first two buttons of her shirt while Lena continues to glare. Then, for fun, she continues up until she hits the top of her bra and Lena’s jaw fully drops in alarm.

“Oh my God, Kara, stop!”

But the ruse works, because as Lena moves forward as if she’s about to button Kara’s shirt back up (or just push her into the fountain), Kara is able to wrap an arm around Lena’s waist and tug her down. Lena yelps in surprise, arms coming up to squeeze around Kara’s neck, and Kara has to hide a grin into the curls that hit her full force in the face.

“Geez, Lena, you’re like an ice cube. Don’t you own a sweater?”

“You asshole,” Lena says, but there is no bite in her voice, only annoyed defeat. “If I get glitter all over you, I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’ll let it slide, this once.” Kara doesn’t mention that there’s nothing in the world that she wouldn’t let Lena get away with. That’s the inevitable truth of being in love with this girl pretty much her whole life—Kara caves first, and she always has. Whether it was what flavor of Gatorade to get from the vending machine, or whether it was who got to sit down in the only remaining chair for a last minute casting call, or whether it was to tag along to Lena’s prom date so the boy wouldn’t try to kiss her, Kara always let Lena call the shots.

Lena exhales; Kara feels the warmth of Lena’s breath against her temple, feels the steady weight of Lena’s body as she shifts on Kara’s lap, feels the rough pattern of Lena’s dress sequins against her fingertips. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Lena says suddenly.

Those words always make Kara’s heart skip a beat, like they’re right back to being fifteen and nervously holding each other’s sweaty hands while poring over crumpled scripts. “I’d better be,” Kara quips, if only to keep her sappiness at bay, “or I’m returning the BFF necklaces I brought as our first-anniversary gift.”

“I’m serious,” Lena huffs, and her grip around Kara’s neck tightens just a hair. “Will you let me be serious?”

“Okay, okay. One hundred percent seriousness from here on out, I promise.”

For a moment, the only sound is that of cars passing, of the trickle from the water fountain, of the faint music coming from the party. And when Lena speaks at last, it’s quiet. “I know my mom’s not the…easiest person,” she says. “And if pretending to be my girlfriend is going to make you uncomfortable because you have to deal with her, you don’t have to do it.”

“I’ve been dealing with your mother forever, Lena,” Kara says lightly. “She hasn’t been able to scare me off yet, for as much as she’s tried.”

Lena scoffs, but her hand is unmistakably tender as she fiddles with Kara’s shirt collar. “What happened to being serious?”

“I am serious! Do you or do you not remember that time we went to the water park? I swear she cut a hole in my water tube slide. And let’s not even bring up the whole prom incident, because I swear my hip has never been the same since falling out of your window.”

“She didn’t even know that was you.” Lena laughs, and it’s still somewhat hesitant, but just affectionate enough to reflect her feelings about that memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Kara inhales, shakily, both the sweet scent of Lena’s perfume and some much-needed air. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Lena presses her forehead into Kara’s jaw, her skin still cold enough that it makes Kara sympathetically squeeze her tighter. “Can you just promise to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable?” she asks, and ignores Kara’s question entirely. “Either with my mother, or…just the pretending part with me.”

“I feel plenty comfortable,” Kara tries, but Lena just reiterates,

“Promise me, Kara. I don't want to lose you.”

Something about the urgency in Lena's tone shifts the mood entirely; Kara swallows tightly and nods obligingly. “Okay. I promise. But you have to tell me, too, if anything becomes…I don't know, too much.”

“Fine,” Lena agrees readily.

“No, wait, but listen,” Kara presses. “Being friends is one thing, but dating is another, and—even if it's fake, we're going to have to do couple things. And I don't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I also don't want to ruin our friendship,” Lena says. “Which is why I brought it up first.”

“Good. Okay. I just wanted to be sure.” Kara awkwardly shifts, all too aware that this might not be the ideal time and place for this conversation. Much less when Lena's still in her lap, clinging to Kara as if afraid to let go. “So on a scale of one to ten, how badly have I messed up the friendship by fighting Mike?”

Lema hums, considering. “That depends on what he said about me.”

“Um, nothing nice,” Kara says haltingly. “I'd rather not repeat it.”

“Then I'll let it slide…this once.” Lena's hands find their way up to Kara's face, fingertips gentle against the bruise on her jaw. “But you are still an idiot.” She thumbs warmly against the apple of Kara's cheek and gazes at Kara from underneath thick mascaraed eyelashes, then whispers, “And you're my favorite.”

“Your favorite idiot?”

“My favorite person.” Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Kara is sitting on Lena's bedroom floor still tugging at her tux because it itches. Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Lena is biting her lip and unable to catch Kara’s eye. Suddenly they’re seventeen again, and Lena is whispering I wanted you to make sure he didn’t kiss me because I want you to be my first kiss.

Kara blinks, mouth opening and closing for a pause, before she has to fall back on a safe feeling—fall right back to humor, so Lena does not comment on the way Kara’s body automatically tenses. “Aw, Lena,” she manages, “that sounded a lot like you like me.”

“I’m just a good actress,” Lena says mock-haughtily, but her eyes are searching as they lock onto Kara’s, expression softening the way no one else ever really sees. To the world she’s always been some cold, aloof superstar, but to Kara she will always be the best friend who wanted her first kiss to be with the person she trusted most in the world.

“Well for the record,” Kara swallows thickly, “you’re my favorite, too.”

There is a split second—a charged, electric second—where Kara swears Lena is going to kiss her. Her eyes are hooded like they’re about to close, and her face sways closer, her hand still resting on Kara’s bruised jaw. But then she sighs, and Kara can feel the distance before she sees it.

“We should go back inside,” Lena says, abruptly stumbling off of Kara's lap. “Sooner or later we'll have to do damage control.”

It takes a beat for Kara to catch up. “Right,” she says, hastening to button up her shirt and follow. “It wouldn't be a Luthor party without damage control.”

“It's the first time you're the cause, though,” Lena throws over her shoulder. “And don't forget your tie!”

“Got it,” Kara calls, undoing her tie entirely and tossing it into the bushes. “Hey, wait up! Come back and hold my hand.”

That makes Lena freeze in place. “What?”

“For—you know, the cameras,” Kara says, shrugging her suit jacket back on. “So we can show a united front.”

Lena gives her an inscrutable look. “You say the weirdest things sometimes,” she says, but she allows Kara to catch up and intertwine their hands together without further complaint. 

“How else is everyone supposed to know you're not mad at me?” Kara reminds her. “Or that I'm the best girlfriend you've ever had?”

“I doubt they're going to make that assumption based on hand holding.” But as they climb up the steps to rejoin the gala, the low, golden light illuminates that dimpled smile of Lena's that makes Kara breathless. “What makes you think you're the best, anyway?”

“Just a guess,” Kara says, squeezing Lena's hand as they reach the entrance. “Am I?”

“Let's see if you end tonight without any more fights first,” Lena quips, and while her voice is teasing, her smile grows exponentially tender. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Kara echoes quietly, and allows Lena to lead her right through those double doors knowing that she would follow Lena anywhere.

[siliconforbrains]

Okay, it's like 10pm on a work night and I haven't had any coffee today so my thoughts are a little scrambled BUT. I WAS THINKING.

(About In Stars and Time of course I'm always thinking about that game)

A couple of years ago, at the height of Steddie -my sister was big into it and recced me some fics okay- I read this fic about Steve dealing with time loops ("The one in which a time loop is fucking exhausting" by badpancake) and there was this specific detail about the epilogue that stuck with me.

It was the idea that, once the time loops were done and over with, people would slowly start to remember bits and pieces of what happened in earlier loops. After being fractured for so long across dozens of timelines and experiences and outcomes, time was finally healing, and broken shards of lost memories would find their way back into people's minds.

And that got me thinking about a post-game what-if scenario where the same happens to the gang as they travel through Vaugarde.

Like they still don't remember everything -just bits and pieces. Experiences so emotionally charged that they found a way to cross the sands of time and reach them again.

The question is, what would those memories be? The first answer that comes to mind is some of Siffrin's deaths, of course. I can't imagine watching your friend get pancake-d by a boulder would be pleasant, nor witnessing them turning their own dagger to themselves. Or offering him a slice of your favorite snack only for him to go into anaphylactic shock in front of your very eyes, for that matter!

But there would be other instances too, wouldn't they? Death is not the only thing that shook them to their core. What about their first death to the King? Or Bonnie's fate at the end of Act 3? What about basking in the blissful feeling of victory against the tormentor of your land only to turn to look at your friend and know something is very, very wrong?

What about fighting through the House with a party of 4 instead of 5, bloodied, confused, staring in the face of the King knowing you're about to die and wondering why your friend left you all when you needed them most?

I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this, but I've been rotating this concept in my head since this morning and thought I'd get it out on here so y'all can suffer with me tehee

[minhmynchi]

anyone want a sketchdump of my human loop feat. siffrin and also one (1) odile

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.

in short, my writing comfort zone <3

~

The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.

“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”

“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”

“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”

Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.

“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”

“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”

Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”

It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe. 

The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach. 

“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”

“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad. 

Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”

“Especially you.”

Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”

“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”

“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.” 

Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”

“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed. 

That’s not. 

That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home�� all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what. 

Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good. 

Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening. 

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”

Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”

“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”

“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”

“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”

“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”

“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.

Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?

He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting. 

Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation? 

Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind. 

Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”

“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”

Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes. 

The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.

For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left. 

He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.

Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense. 

Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-

His phone is ringing. 

Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-

“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.

“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler. 

“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”

All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.

“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”

Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”

“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.

“B. Beagle, yeah.”

The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.

“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it. 

“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”

Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.” 

Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.

“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs. 

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”

It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot. 

The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.

Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on. 

Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway. 

“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan. 

Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands. 

It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”

Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.

“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “

Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-

When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer. 

“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”

Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”

“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”

“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.

Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”

Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”

He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”

Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.

Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.

Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal. 

Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.

Wally flatlining on a metal table. 

Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-

“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway. 

Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier. 

Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors. 

Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare. 

That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.

Looks like he doesn’t have a choice. 

Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”

“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”

They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones. 

Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness. 

“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road. 

A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting. 

The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace. 

Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.

[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]

It’s bad.

The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman. 

Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.

“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”

Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own. 

When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him. 

If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it. 

For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things. 

At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?

Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning. 

Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…

What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors? 

That he didn’t make it?

The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.

“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”

The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without. 

“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”

Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”

“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties. 

“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”

“He’ll make it?”

Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”

Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand. 

“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks. 

“I’m not sure-”

“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.” 

Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”

Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.

“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.

Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”

Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time. 

“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”

“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”

“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”

Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?

In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves. 

“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”

What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet. 

Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive. 

One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. 

Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.

Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.

We’re doing our best.

“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”

Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on. 

The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time. 

“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”

Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.

“How can I help?” he asks instead.

“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes. 

“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”

It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.

“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”

He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-

“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts. 

Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”

It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing. 

Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.

“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”

It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there. 

“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”

Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again. 

A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.

Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained. 

They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-

Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

wip whenevertuesday

tagged by fellow enlightened Roach Enjoyer™️ @patchmates thank you so much 🫶🪳🫶

🧼🪳📞

Roach impatiently tugged at the waistband of Soap's jeans, desperate to get more of him into his mouth, and as Soap obliged and helped him push them down to his knees, the captains cell rang.

They both looked at the mobile phone for a second and then back at each other, Roach holding Soap's cock, slick with saliva, slowly running a hand up and down while he waited for further instruction.

Soap picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. He smirked and looked back at Roach. "Keep goin', love," he said as he picked up the call.

Roach kept a hand on Soap's dick, holding it at just the right angle to let him lick up his captain's balls, earning an appreciative grunt from Soap as he brought the phone to his ear. "Ghost."

this is for part 4 of my sweet tooth series hehehe

tagging: @lokibuswrites @roachsideblog and anyone who sees this and wants to post a wip snippet!!!!!

[presiding]

you'll never guess which level we're up to in this dishonored 2 rewrite

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ Some Father-son bonding ~

(A/N: I LOVE THIS ITERATION OF SONIC SM- ESPECIALLY HOW THE WRITERS WROTE THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEM HIM AND TOM FOR THE FIRST AND SECOND FILM. I- SOBSSSS. I LOVE THESE TWO SM SO U KNOW I NEEDED TO MAKE A FIC ABT THEM 💞💕💖💗😭!!!)

Lee: Sonic🦔💙

Ler: Tom🍩🤎

Warnings: A little bit of angst in the beginning, harmful stimming (I’ll tag where it starts and ends) and tickling. If you are uncomfortable with any of the following please feel free to keep scrolling down :)

Summary: It’s been a couple months since the epic battle between Sonic and Eggman. The electric blue hedgehog could finally relax…right? Well…yes and no. Sonic has been living with the Wachowski’s for those couple months and it’s been great! But…he keeps feeling weird. His stomach gets fluttery and he can’t stop laughing for hours at a time…it's…really weird. Maybe he should talk to someone about this…

(A/N: Parent and child relationship. Nothing more. Nothing less. It sickens me that I have to put that in there (bc it should be obvious) but you can never be too sure…I just needed to make it clear that they love each other as family.)

——————————————————————————————————

Sonic was sitting up on his beanbag and playing with the rubix cube Maddie gave him about a week ago. He was dressed in a sweatshirt, a gift from Tom that was like 3 times his own size, going almost to his knees and blue fuzzy socks. He groaned as he finished solving the cube again for probably the 12th time now. Speaking of which, you’re probably wondering where he got the rubix cube from…and before you ask, no he did not steal it. It was quite the opposite actually.

Maddie noticed that Sonic was very fidgety at times and often pulled at his quills when he was nervous about something, or completely bored. So she decided to go shopping and buy the blue hedgehog some fidget toys. And by “some”, Sonic means like about 60-70 at least…he hasn’t counted but by the looks on how freaking heavy the box was when she gifted it to him, his estimation probably wasn’t that far off. 

Sonic groaned again, dropping the rubix cube he had in his hands and placed it on his desk, making sure to put it down delicately so he didn’t accidentally dent it; out of all of the fidget toys this one was Sonic’s favorite and he didn’t want it getting ruined under any circumstances. The hedgehog flopped on his beanbag, looking up at the ceiling and putting his pillow to his face before abruptly groaning loudly for like the 100th time, but at least now it was muffled by the pillow. 

Sonic wanted something but he didn’t know what…and this feeling was starting to get on his nerves.

Well- no- scratch that. He did- he did know what he wanted. But there’s no way in all of Green Hills he was gonna tell anyone about it.

There- there was this feeling in his stomach, but he didn’t know what the literal hell it was, and it’s been eating him from the inside since he’s come to Green Hills. His stomach felt fluttery, almost as if there were butterflies instead of intestines- but not in a bad way! In a very weird, confusing, nice way? If that makes sense? And another thing, he can't seem to stop giggling to himself. Which is odd. Because he didn’t even hear a joke or anything! He was just…giggling. Like what? But most importantly, he was craving physical affection apparently??? Ugh. See why he wasn’t gonna tell anyone about this feeling? Or…whatever this was?

Sonic looked at his phone- not far from where he was lying down on his beanbag. He remembers Maddie saying every time she left before work in the morning that if he needed anything, to text or call her…

This is probably what she meant. 

But he didn’t want to bother her. Sonic knew how important Maddie’s job was and he didn’t want to make it more stressful. Besides, what was she supposed to say to her coe-working people if Sonic called or texted? Oh! Sorry! The over-sized hedgehog I have living in my house wants to talk about this weird feeling he’s feeling! Hm? Oh, what feeling you ask? He doesn’t quite know exactly! 

Yeah. Thanks but no thanks. Sonic could handle this weird feeling on his own. Yep. He could totally handle this weird new feeling by himself. Uh-huh. He’s got this.

…

Maddie…Maddie wouldn’t mind…right?

…

Oh fuck it.

Sonic grabbed his phone and unlocked it, immediately going through his contacts to find Maddie- which wasn't hard. He only had two contacts: her and Tom.

✨💖The Magnificent Marvelous Maddie💖✨

Today at 1:38 p.m. 

Hey Maddie

If uh

If you’re not busy…can I ask you a question?

Sonic turned his phone off and put it next to him and after a couple seconds of waiting the blue hedgehog immediately regretted sending those three texts to Maddie. She’s probably busy anyway. Sonic could figure out this feeling by himself-

PING!

Sonic almost jumped out of his seat at the sudden loud sound coming from his phone. He really needs to figure out how to turn that sound down…he can feel it still ringing in his ears. He turned on his phone to see a text notification- 3 actually- from the one and only Maddie Wachowski…

Well that was fast. 

Hi, sweetie! 

And of course you can ask me a question ☺️!

What’s on your mind, honey? 

Sonic exhaled the breath he didn’t even notice he was holding in, unlocking his phone and going into messages to properly text her.

I’ve been…

I’ve been feeling weird lately- and idk why 

Ever since I’ve come to Green Hills to stay w/ u guys I’ve felt this way…and idk what it is and it’s been pissing me off lately.

So I was hoping…maybe you could help me figure out what it is?

Of course!

Could you maybe try to describe it? 

The thing is idk how to! 

I just- my stomach feels all fluttery 

Not in a bad way tho! Not like a roller-coaster fluttery or about-to-go-on-stage-and-sing-in-front-of-millions-upon-millions-of-people fluttery 

But like- a good fluttery I guess??? I just feel rlly giggly and stuff and it’s weird- but weird in a good way…

…

That doesn’t make any sense, does it?

No no! I think I understand, sweetie

And I think I can help 😊

WAIT- HUH???

YOU CAN???

Well, not me exactly

As of I’m not home right now 

But I’m sure Tom can help!

Wait what-?

How can Tom help w/ this I’m so confused 😭😭😭

Trust me 

In the past, I’ve had the feeling you’re feeling right now and Tom is the best person to help with it- so just tell him what you told me!

Uh…alright!

I guess I could do that 

Thanks Maddie 

It’s no problem, Sonic sweetie 😊

Okay, thanks again- I’m gonna go talk to him now

Bye!

Okay bye! Love you 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️☺️☺️☺️

Love you too 😗❤️

Sonic got up from his beanbag chair, put his phone inside of the desk and opened the hatch downstairs. Sonic quietly tiptoed down the stairs, making sure to dodge the places in the steps that he knew squeaked if he stepped too hard, peeking over the stairway to see Tom watching TV- and from the looks of it it looked like some sheriff documentary- he’s been watching those a lot lately…but Sonic doesn’t understand the hype. The sheriff’s on the TV could be talking about some random paint splatter on the ground and Tom would be hooked. 

“I can hear you trying to be quiet up there, Sonic.” Tom chuckled, still facing the TV as he went to grab the remote on the armrest and pause the TV. The brunette turned to Sonic with a “hah! Caught ya” grin, a grin Sonic knew all too well in his last months of living with him.

 The hedgehog sighed in defeat of being caught, walking down the stairs and going next to the couch Tom was sitting at. The brunette had a grey/gray shirt on with a light plaid print jacket, matching with some black pants and white socks. 

“Uh…’sup, Tom.” Sonic said as casually as he could before leaning on the couches’ arm rest. The brunette eyed Sonic suspiciously, raising one eyebrow as he crossed his arms. Sonic started to sweat under the older man’s glare, whistling and looking anywhere but Tom’s direction. 

“What did you do, Sonic?” Tom sighed, taking the blue hedgehogs’ sudden nervousness as a sign of him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “I didn't do anything!” Sonic said, mimicking Tom’s expression and pose. The two looked at each other in the pose for a solid minute or two before laughing at their silliness.

“So what do you need, little man?” Tom asked. Sonic cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands and began looking at his feet because honestly? Staring at the ground was much much more easier than looking at Tom at the moment. “I just…I figured we could- y’know- hang out I guess?” The blue hedgehog started, “Some uhm…y’know some father-son bonding activities…?” Sonic said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking down on the ground. 

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two and Sonic didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. And the more the silence dragged on the more the blue hedgehog started to second guess himself about coming down to the living room. 

Pfft, “Father-son bonding?” He really has reached a whole new level of patheticness, huh? Why would Tom want to spend time with him? He’s just keeping him around because he pity’s him. He doesn’t actually enjoy his company. Just wait until Tom gets tired of him, then he’ll be all alone again-

Oh this was a mistake.

This was such SUCH a mistake. 

***Harmful stimming starts***

The hedgehog started lightly pulling on his quills out of nervousness with one hand while his other hand started tapping the side of his leg, “O-Or whatever. If- If you want to of course. I don’t want it to seem like you're being forced, hah!” Sonic said, letting out the best fake laugh he could muster before speaking again. “I-If you’re busy- y’know….with, uhh, you’re sheriff stuff…that’s fine as well. I don’t- I don’t care.” Sonic started slowly backing away from Tom, still pulling on his quills- but a tad bit harder this time as his hand tapping on his leg started increasing faster. 

Sonic could hear faint talking in front of him but he couldn’t focus on it. The only thing he needed to focus on was leaving before he embarrassed himself more. “Y’know what? I-I should go, you’re probably doing something busy anyway, uh…lemme get out of your hair, man.” Sonic grimaced, turning away and going to the steps, but before he could walk any farther Tom grabbed both his hands gently. 

***Harmful stimming stops***

“Hey…let’s not do that, okay? You’re hurting yourself….” Tom said softly, holding Sonic’s hands in his own as he kneeled down to try and match Sonic’s height. “Where are your fidget toys?” Tom gently asked, trying his best to keep the questions short and sweet to not overwhelm the younger. These types of moments have happened before in the Wachowski’s house; when Sonic started to panic, asking him too many questions would get him even more upset, so when this happened they kept the questions to a minimum and straight to the point. “I…I left them upstairs…” Sonic mumbled. 

“Oh. That’s okay…uh…here. Sit down on the couch for a sec.” The brunette said as he picked up Sonic and sat him on the couch. Rubbing his head affectionately before walking away to the kitchen rummaging through the kitchen shelves before coming out with a blue squishy ball. He came back to Sonic who gratefully accepted the ball. Tom sat next to Sonic as the younger leaned onto his shoulder, taking another deep breath and exhaling, muscles once tense now relaxed. 

“Sorry about that…” Sonic said, squeezing the stress ball harder and glaring at it as if it stole his last chili dogs. Well this wasn’t how he was planning this conversation with Tom to go. The older looked at Sonic sadly before sighing and turning his gaze looking straight ahead to the paused TV. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, kid. It’s alright.” Tom said. The blue hedgehog hummed at the comic, taking a couple more deep breathers.

There was that uncomfortable silence again, the one that Sonic despised. “I just…I dunno. I feel weird…?” Sonic said, squeezing his squishy fidget ball at a faster pace this time. The older didn't say anything but completely turned to Sonic, letting him know he was listening. The younger somewhat shrunk under the older mans’ look, feeling a tad bit pressure to go on but decided to ignore it. He wanted- no. He needed to get this off of his chest. 

“Ever since I’ve come to stay with you and Maddie after the defeat of Dr. Robotnik, I’ve felt…odd. I feel tingly, and fluttery and it’s just…weird, because I’ve never felt like this before, ever. I talked to Maddie about it in text and she said to talk to you about it…so uh…here I am!” Sonic sheepishly said.

Tom chuckled, “Is that why you said you wanted some Father-son bonding?” The blue hedgehog blushes at the mention, nodding his head. The older one chuckled once again, rubbing Sonic’s head affectionately, “I’d be happy to help you with this fluttery-feeling, buddy!” The blue hedgehog quickly looked at Tom as his ears went up in surprise.  

“Wait. Really?” Sonic asked. “Of course! But before I do, I gotta ask you a question…” Tom said waiting a dramatically long time before continuing his sentence. “Are you ticklish?” The older asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow up. There was a silence between the two, but only this time this one was in complete and utter confusion. The younger ones' eyebrows creased together trying to put together what he was just asked, “Um…gesundheit?” 

“What? No, kid.Tickling. Y'know, being ticklish?” Tom said as he wiggled his fingers near Sonic’s face only to be met by a confused look. “I dunno what you are talking about, man…” Sonic chuckled, now relaxing in the hug as he chuckled at the older mans’ surprised face.

Tom’s dumbfounded expression slowly turned to a soft, genuine smile, then it slowly turned into an evil grin. This kid had no idea what tickling is!

…

This kid had no idea what tickling is…

Oh Tom is gonna change that very quickly.

“Uh…Tom? You okay over there? Your face kinda looks like that green person we watched on Christmas…” Sonic said, wincing at the memory of the man’s genuine expression slowly slowly turning into an evil one. Tom stopped with his evil grin (for now at least), and raised his left eyebrow in amusement. “You mean The Grinch?” He asked, laughing when the blue hedgehog nodded happily at the familiar name. “Yeah, yeah! That dude!” Sonic smiled.  

“I need you to stay perfectly still for this to work though, okay?” Tom said in the best serious voice he could muster, but probably not as serious as he thought since right after he stopped talking Sonic started laughing a bit. “Pfft, whatever you say, Donut Lord.” Sonic snickered, hopping into Tom’s lap facing sideways.

Tom then began to lightly scratch along Sonic’s sides, the reaction was almost immediate as the blue hedgehog began to squirm lightly and grab at the brunette’s wrists; but not pushing them away. Sonic held his breath; trying not to laugh but that plan started to crumble as Tom began to poke at the youngers’ sides; more quickly than he was before. Sonic let out a tiny shriek before descending into little giggles, kicking his legs and shaking his head. Tom smiled at the adorable sight.

“Whahat? Hehey-! Hehey wahahait! Whahat ahahare yohou dohoing?” Sonic asked while becoming a giggly squirmy mess. Tom chuckled at the youngers’ question, making sure to go easy on him since this was his first time being tickled, so he’d start off with light tickles…for now at least. 

“I’m tickling you, silly! Since it does seem to me that you happen to be a bit ticklish~!” Tom cooed, now using two hands to tase around Sonic’s sides. Sonic threw his head back, suddenly lost in a puddle of giggles and fell on the couch, but still in Tom’s grasp as the brunette tickled up and down his sides. “Whahat ahare you tahahalking about?” Sonic giggly asked, his legs lightly stomped on the couch as some pillows fell in the process. 

“Hmm, hold on…” Tom said as he grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket, typing up something but making sure to keep the blue hedgehog in a giggly squirmy mess. “Ah, okay. Goggle states this: Tickling is the act of touching a part of a body in a way that causes involuntary-“ “Ihihi dohohon’t knohow whahat thahat meeheeans!” Sonic whined interrupting Tom, shaking his head back and forth giggling up a storm in the older mans’ lap. “You didnt even let me finish!” Tom laughed, moving one hand to tickle Sonic’s neck while the other still tickled his side. 

“PFFT- nAhAHAH! GeHEt ohOUT ohohOHOF theHEhehere!” Sonic giggly demanded, still holding Tom’s wrist as he scrunched up his shoulders. The older man chuckled before digging both of his hands in both sides of the blue hedgehog’s neck, fingers fluttering up, down, left, and right. Sonic’s feet drummed on the couch, trying to make a daring escape but anytime he was even a bit close to leaving, Tom would poke Sonic’s sides, leaving the blue hedgehog to be an adorable giggly mess. “Stahay still!” Tom playfully scolded. 

“THIhihIHIs ihihis soHO weeheeird!” The hedgehog giggled, his face beginning to turn a light red. And honestly, if Tom could start crying, he would- out of happiness of course. This was to fucking darn cute. 

“How many ribs do you think you have, Sonic?” Tom asked as he held both of Sonic’s arms up against the couch, trying his best to compose himself from not crying from the younger ones’ adorable reactions to the pokes. “Mahaddie sahahaid weehee hahave twehenty-fohour; twehehelve ohon eeheeach sihihide!” Sonic giggly answered, as he remembered Maddie did a walk-through on the human body and how many bones it has. 

“Hm…you sure? Maybe I should count them for you…” Tom didn’t even spare the giggly blue hedgehog a second to protest as he pressed his thumb into the lowest rib on the right side of Sonic’s ribcage, kneading and circling at a very very slow pace against the artificial bone. Sonic screeched at the sudden sensation against his ribs, kicking his legs a bit faster as Tom slowly slowly slowly began to “count his ribs���.

“One…two…three…” Tom counted aloud, remaining on a rib for about 5 seconds before moving up to a different one. Sonic lurched in Tom’s lap, attempting to pry himself out by pushing at Tom’s wrists but only caused the older to pin up his arms and continue kneading at his ribs. “NahAHA! WahahHAHAIT, plehHEHEase!” Sonic whined throughout his frantic cries of laughter. “Ihi sahAHAId iHi hahaHAVE tweHEHEnty foHOUR!” 

“I'm just double checking!” Tom innocently said as if he wasn’t completely wrecking the boy in his lap at the moment. The blue hedgehog squirmed and squealed at the tickly feeling at his ribs, being unable to do anything but just take it. This went on for a couple more numbers but then Tom suddenly stopped “counting” Sonic’s ribs, giving the kid another breather before hatching another evil plan. “Wait, what number was I on, Sonic?” 

“Tohohom! Yohou lihihiterally ohonly counted toohoo sihihix-!” 

“Oh, well. I lost count! Guess I have to start all over again~! 

Sonic froze in place, laughter now raising an octave as he helplessly squirmed in Tom’s grasp. “WahAHaH- waHahaHAIT *snort* nOHo dahHa- *snort* dohOHOHOn’t!” Sonic snorted, descending into a puddle of maddening cackles feeling the fluttery feeling again. So this was the feeling he was feeling…? He’d have to ask Tom later, when he’s not getting tickled to pieces. 

“Awh~! That’s so cute~! You snort when you laugh?” Tom cooed, wiggling his fingers near the blue hedgehog's ribs but very very close to touching him. Sonic’s laughter became more frantic and loud, squirming underneath Tom, and it's not like he could defend himself either! His arms were pinned up! This entire situation just screamed “unfair”. “NahaHAO! IHI *snort* doHOHon’t!” Sonic giggly said, knowing that- yes. Yes he did snort when he laughed, he did just a couple seconds ago…but no way in all of Green Hills he was gonna admit it, especially in this situation. 

“Oho really? What was that adorable noise you made just then, hmm?” Tom smugly asked. “YohOu’re heehEEARihing thihIHIngs…” Tom fondly rolled his eyes as he pinched and kneaded Sonic’s ribs, leaving absolutely no bone left out from his tickle torture. Sonic threw his head back and cackled like a madman, snorting every now and again as he squirmed like a worm, trying to stop the ticklish sensation at his ribs. 

“NAHAHAO! DAHAHAD *snort* PLEHEASE!” Sonic cried. Tom’s eyes widened at the name title the younger gave, not sure if the blue hedgehog meant to say it, but was very honored and happy at the mention. It made his heart melt. “Please what, Sonic? Pleaseeeeee keep tickling you?” Tom smugly teased, grin widening as he saw Sonic’s face heat up in embarrassment. Guess he’s weak to the T-word, huh? Oho I can and will use that to my advantage… 

“DAHAHA- *snort* OHOHO MY GOHOD! STAHAHAP SAHAHAYING THAHAT!” Sonic yelled as he shook his head back and forth. “Stop saying what, exactly? Tickle~? Ticklish~? Tickled~? Or do you want me to simply stop talking? Which one?” Tom laughed. “YEHEHES!” Sonic cried, not even completely knowing what he just said ‘yes’ to- he was too lost in his own laughter. Tom stopped tickling Sonic, letting him have one last breather before the final kill.   

“Ever heard of raspberries, Sonic?” Tom asked, knowing that he the blu hedgehog has, but probably not the ones he’s talking about. “Lihihike thehe fruhuhuit?” Sonic giggly asked. “Nope! Here, lemme show you…” Tom said as he blew a raspberry on the youngers’ tummy causing him to absolutely howl in laughter. 

“OHO MY *snort* GAAAHAHAD WAHAHAIT! WAHAHAIT!” Sonic screamed, completely not prepared for this new tickly feeling on his stomach…and why did it sound so freaking funny??? That was just gonna make him laugh more! “Wait for what Sonic~?” Tom teased as he blew more raspberries on his tummy, and with his free and scribbling up and down Sonic’s ribs. 

“WAHAHAIT- *snort* IHI *snort* DOHON’T DOOHOO THAHAHAT!” Sonic cried, blue sparks suddenly forming on the kids’ quills, sparkling here and there but some going off of his quills and onto the carpet floor, disappearing. Sonic cackled in the older Tom’s lap, the blue lightning on his quills adding a new ticklish sensation on him.

“Huh. Well they do say you learn new things everyday…” Tom mumbled, watching some of the lighting sparks fall off of the younger ones quills. “PLEHEHEASE! IHIT’S *snort* TIHIHICKLISH!” Sonic screamed, more tiny little blue sparks flying off of his quills and onto the floor. Tom chuckled at the little blue hedgehogs’ reactions, moving down to Sonic’s lower belly as he began to lightly flutter his fingers around it. 

“I think you mean ‘it tickles’, bud.” Tom said into Sonic’s tummy, chuckling. Tom was the sheriff of Green Hills- not the sheriff of grammar; at least last time Sonic checked. Tom began to blow more raspberries all over the little blue hedgehog’s stomach, making sure to add a few nibbles now and again to keep the younger in stitches- which worked out really well on Tom’s part. Sonic’s laughter became more high pitched and loud, snorting more frequently as the older started to raspberry and nibble his stomach.

“OHOHO MY GOHOD *snort* WHATEVER!” Sonic screamed as Tom began to switch between his lips and teeth nibbling mercilessly at Sonic’s tummy leaving the poor blue hedgehog in absolute hysterics. 

Tom dug his fingers in the blue hedgehogs underarms.And Sonic screamed. The hedgehog's feet were kicking probably about a million miles per hour, just looking like a complete and utter blur while the blue sparks on Sonic’s quills multiplied. 

“So~! I think I found your most ticklish spot, huh~?” Tom chuckled, lightly scratching his fingers in Sonic’s underarms, making sure to dodge the little sparks of blue lightning coming off of Sonic’s quills- which  he knew tickled the younger even more due to how much he was laughing. Sonic screamed underneath the brunette’s grasp, trying his best to not kick him in the face but the task being very very hard as his feet were kicking around a million miles per hour. 

“NOHOHO- *snort* DAHAHAH! DOHOHON’T!” Sonic howled, shaking his head back and forth while the heels of his feet dug into the couch. Tom, chuckled, now scribbling and scratching in Sonic’s underarms, “I’m barely even touching you!” Tom laughed, almost as hard as Sonic as he began to pick up the pace with his scribbling. 

“STAHAHA! *snort* NAHAHA- *snort* PLEHEHEA- *snort* DAHAHAHAD!” Sonic screamed, as happy tears started forming in his eyes which Tom took as a sign that Sonic has enough tickles for today. “Alright, alright! Just say Uncle.” Tom calmly said as if Sonic wasn’t screaming his head off. “WHAHA- *snort* WHAHAT?!

“Juhust say Uncle, kiddo-“ Tom said as he accidentally hit a very ticklish spot in Sonic’s underarm causing the younger to let out a girl-like squeal. 

“OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! UHUHUNCLE!” 

Tom stopped tickling Sonic; letting the kid have a breather and putting him into a tight embrace. The blue hedgehog giggled softly in the hug as he melted into the touch. “You okay?” Tom chuckled, smirking at the younger who was still giggling from the tickles from before. Sonic nodded, wiping away his happy tears with his hand still giggling a bit. “So~, I’m Dad now, huh? What happened to being ‘too cool for your human parental names’?” Sonic blushed, pulling up his hoodie and sinking deeper into Tom’s chest. “Shuhut ihit….” 

“I really don’t mind you calling me Dad, bud.” Tom smiled. “Wahait whahat…? Reheally?” Sonic asked in genuine confusion looking up at the older with shiny eyes- Tom swore Sonic’s pupils had stars in them at that moment. “Yeah, I don’t mind.” Tom confirmed, patting Sonic’s back. Sonic’s eyes glistened a bit but the younger one soon wiped them. “Cool…” 

“So…that's called tickling?” The blue hedgehog asked. 

“Mhm.”

“So…you tickled me?”

“Yep.” 

“Huh.” Sonic said, not being able to say anything more than that. “How’s that fluttery feeling in your stomach doing?” Tom asked. “Fine, it's doing just fine.” Sonic smiled as Tom smiled back, rubbing his head affectionately and chuckling. 

“Let's go grab you some water, kiddo. And how about we make some cupcakes after that-“ Tom wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as the blue hedgehog excitedly ran to the kitchen chugging a glass of water and putting out ingredients to make the cupcakes. Tom chuckled, walking over to Sonic to join him. 

Tom definitely had to make a note to tell Maddie about his later, but as of right now he was going to bake some cupcakes with his son. And if they burn down the house in the process, oh well…they both can try coming up with a good excuse to tell Maddie as to why the house is in ashes. 

——————————————————————————————————

RAAAAAAH THROWS THIS FATHER-SON SHIT AT U 💖💞💞💞💗✨✨

I LOVE THESE TWO GOOFBALLS SMMMMMM THEY MEAN SM TO MEEEEEE😭😭😭💙🤎. But anyway, hope you all enjoyed it!!! I do have a couple more WIP fics on the way that r almost finished and a gift fic for someone as well which is ALSO almost done so be sure to look out for those :)

❗️❗️❗️ALSO DON'T FORGET TO DRINK WATER. ITS FLAVOURLESS BUT ITS GOOD FOR U SO DRINK IT PLZ❗️❗️❗️

[gothsuguru]

i can talk about satochoso freely now :3

[crescentfool]

I noticed you're a Ryomina!!! How did you get into it? And do you have any good fanfics/doujinshi you can advice me to read? ANYTHING on Ryomina actually? I'm dying for anything about them!!! Thanks!!

yes!!! it's me!!! i'm ryomina fan (one of many)!!! thank you for visiting my askbox, i'll do my best to answer all of the questions because it always makes me happy to see that ryomina sparks joy for people! :D

...this got really long because i like linking to things, so i'm putting it under a read more (IM VERY NORMAL ABOUT THEM)

how did i get into it? i got into persona 3 around august 2021 through the movies- at the time my only experience with the persona series was with P5R / P5S / P5D. p3 was the one that interested me the most (i thought minato was very pretty + i caught wind that the themes of the game were very resonant with people). i picked the movies over the game because i'm a guy who plays games at a snails pace, haha.

admittedly, i did latch onto ryomina because of the scenes in the third and fourth movie (i have mentioned in the tags of this art i drew how much i felt like i was exploding and blasting off to the moon watching it).

but what really dug me into the ryomina hole (and what has kept me there) was thinking about how much ryoji encapsulates the themes of p3- and how interconnected his fate is with minato. i wrote some musings about their dynamic here, if you're interested!

tl;dr: what if we were both boys and we were mirror images of each other and i inherited your kindness and looks but god doomed our narrative even though we're soulmates

on ryomina fanworks recommendations:

regarding fics: i'm going to assume that you've probably read the fics that have the highest kudo ratings on them, so i won't really be listing those.

a personal favorite fic that i always hold close to my heart is Eurydice's Vow by crescentmoontea, which explores the idea of ryomina in p5r's third semester. this was the first fic i read about ryomina and it made me tear up lots...

i also think a lot about I Alone Await You by Nail_gun, literally scrumptious writing that captures the ryomina dynamic so so well. actually check out Nail_gun's other ryomina fics while you're at it too!

other fun fic i'm fond of: can't get my mind out of those memories (what were they?) by foxmulder_whereartthou. ryoji being homeless lives rent free in my head and it's all because of this fic. there's a bunch of other fun ryominas from the same author too (i still need to read them)

BkZa555 also has some fun AU scenarios if you're into that too, notably with Zagreus (P5-Setting, Ryoji focus) and The Definition of Insanity (TIME LOOP fuckery!), but they're currently ongoing.

these were some ones that came to my mind first- as i have the strongest recollection reading them. admittedly i haven't really been reading fic this year, so i don't have many recommendations from fic that came out this year. but if you're so inclined to let ryomina consume your soul, i definitely recommend giving the newer works in the ryomina tag a look-see and see if it strikes your fancy!

as a side note, i do have a few ryomina fics that i've bookmarked on my ao3 here, though i have to say that i'm not sure how well they hold up in terms of like... what i would seek out of a fic these days. but they made past me happy so i bookmarked them, LOL. it's kind of outdated (my collection of fic recs has my old username *disintegrates*).

regarding doujinshi: i have not read all the ryomina doujinshi available, but as a starting point, please take a look at this list from pandora-scans from livejournal!

notably, this is where you can find the strawberry-chan say good bye doujin- which features a small and cute comic from shuji sogabe (the p3/p4 manga artist), as well as other artists. the existence of this doujinshi is the funniest thing to me because it's like "HEY if you're wondering what the volume 8 cover is really gay it's because sogabe contributed to a ryomina doujin." this fact makes my head spin (positive). it explains a lot about the manga.

regarding persona side material:

i know you didn't ask for these but i thought that i mine as well list these too, since i feel that the side materials have some fun expansions on ryoji and minato's interactions. i haven't... watched/read all of these but, hey, i like to share these things!

for comic anthologies for the persona series (some of which have ryoji!). if you're interested in reading them, here's a scanlation index from maboroshi-no on tumblr. i don't think this is a comprehensive list, but i think it will be a great starting point!

for some translations of the persona 3 drama cds, check out imaginary-numbers on dreamwidth! ryoji and minato interactions can specifically be found in the persona 3 character drama cd vol. 1, and for the audio + english subs, you can watch this video on youtube:

and ohh the musical. ryoji singing and dancing gives me so much joy. i haven't watched the musical in it's entirety (only fragments), but here are some links that may be of interest to you:

Ao no Kakusei (The Blue Awakening), Sakuya version - playlist for the first p3 musical, translated by Phoenix Maiika.

Ao no Kakusei (The Blue Awakening), Kotone version - playlist for the femc version!! also translated by Phoenix Maiika on YouTube.

Persona 3: The Weird Masquerade (English Subtitles) - playlist by rumio!

P3 Weird Musical DVD & Soundtrack Booklet Scans by rumio_k - twitter thread that links to these funsies, if you don't have twitter, here's the publicly shared drive link.

god. these sure are a lot of links, huh? i hope you enjoy them- pick and choose whatever sounds most appealing! (if this overwhelmed you im sorry GKLHLDH i just like being very comprehensive in my answers about things so i got carried away).

and as a reminder, you (and anyone else reading) are always welcome to browse my tags/archive and reblog things from there anytime! i have... nearly 300 ryomina posts which, while mostly consists of art, has a few fics, meta, hcs, gifs, memes, and whatnot scattered about.

or browse the minato and ryoji tags too! there's.. nearly 1k minato. and 500 ish ryoji. and they're going to keep on growing because i can't stop being obsessed with archiving these things. god help me i am so deep in this hole called ryomina hell and now you're here too. welcome aboard!

there's always going to be a lot of fun ways to enjoy rotating ryomina around in one's brain, i think- they're a pairing with such fun symbolic imagery that is So Deep (to me) but ALSO they're immensely hilarious and weird guys (affectionate). so i love to share these things in hopes that it gives you joy too! they are the most couple ever (to me) (i'm biased)

thank you again for the ask! i hope it can satiate your need for more ryomina, and be a nice aide in exploring the p3 fanspace :)