#anything for u

[mioakem]

Born to play silena Beauregard not cause I think I’m this ethereal beauty but cause I would 100% betray that entire camp if Charlie bushnell asked

[fewtrell]

hello hi i’m here to be annoying but since you just posted the f2 grid sorter i thought i’d, do you have an indycar one too by chance? Okay byeeee

hell yea! here :)

[harvsboy]

i’m bout to lose my mind over a man

[angelyuji]

instead of looking at loser bruce, look at my beautiful wife💞💞💞

[live-from-flaturn]

hey bestie!

for the prompt game: 1, 12, or 50 (I'm allergic to choices, sorry) 💚🥰👀

OH YOU ARE JUST THE ABSOLUTE BEST!

Here's #1: "There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close". Which turned into a SOULMATE AU also. Bonus treat.

Wordcount: approx. 800

---

Title: "One. Two. Three."

Chay was on his way home from delivering a late meal to Porsche at Hum Bar when he heard a man’s voice shout: “Don’t let the little bastard get away!” 

He jolted back onto his heels, obscuring himself in the shadows while his eyes automatically began a frantic search for the speaker. Were they talking about him? Were these some debt-collector’s goons meant to haul him back to HQ for a ‘conversation’ with their boss? 

The answer was a definitive ‘no’, thank fuck. Whoever had shouted was most definitely not after the scrawny nineteen-year-old university student currently plastering his back against the brick mouth of the alleyway. Chay peered nervously around the corner to catch the action and found six men in patterned button-ups chasing down a younger, shorter man. 

To his continued shock, Chay recognized their prey.

“P’Wik?!”

He didn’t know why his idol was being chased down a backstreet in a questionable area of town dressed from head to toe in black athleisure, and he didn’t need to know. What Chay did know (and firmly believed in) was that celebrities deserved to have their privacy respected. The herd of strangely dressed men probably worked as paparazzi or gossip columnists and had stalked Wik down for an interview about his latest single. The rudeness of it all had Chay’s blood boiling in the space between seconds.

Chay had two seconds to hype himself up before Wik darted past his hiding place. He reached out and snagged his idol by the arm, yanking Wik into the alley. He spun them so the singer’s back met the wall and released his arm, only to cover his mouth immediately. “I’m so sorry, P’Wik, but please be quiet!” 

Wik’s beautiful brown eyes, which had initially flared with panic and anger at being grabbed quite literally off the street, softened by a noticeable degree. He nodded slowly and lifted one hand from his side to remove Chay’s fingers where they’d curled over his mouth. Chay flushed hot enough to sting and stepped back, nearly braining himself on the opposite wall. 

Right. With two people filling the tiny space there wasn’t much, well… Space.

They didn’t have time to contemplate the awkwardness of their situation or Chay’s idiocy because Wik’s pursuers thundered past in a herd. The two young men tensed in unison and Chay instinctively leaned forward, slipping into a casual lean against the wall. He angled his shoulders and hips to keep the singer hidden, lip caught anxiously between his teeth.

“I didn’t think it would happen like this.”

Despite the men still shouting and clamoring in the near distance and despite their uncomfortable proximity, Chay’s entire focus narrowed in on his idol’s voice. He knew those words. He knew them well.

“Did you– I, uhm–” He spluttered, words so soft they were mostly garbled nonsense. “Are you my soulmate?!”

Wik tugged up the sleeve of his dri-fit running shirt and flashed the words: I’m so sorry, P’Wik, but please be quiet!

Chay giggled wetly and slid his hoodie out of the way: I didn’t think it would happen like this.

“So you’re a fan?” Wik murmured, lips hovering between a smile and a grimace. Chay didn’t know people could make that kind of face, but here he stood. The sole witness to a miracle. 

Chay blinked. “No?”

“Will you run away screaming if I say superfan?”

“Will you run away screaming if I tell you those guys weren’t paparazzi?”

“Well then, angel, I suppose it’s nice to meet you. I’m your soulmate, and my real name is Kim.”

“Kim.” It tasted spicy and warm on Chay’s tongue. He couldn’t be more thrilled.  “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Porchay. My friends call me Chay.”

“What should your soulmate call you?”

“I liked angel,” Chay grinned. This had to be a dream, so he might as well shoot his shot. “Angel was nice.”

“Alright, then,” Kim wrapped an arm around his waist and jerked his chin in the direction of the opposite alley entrance. “Ready to run?”

“Promise I don’t have to wake up when this part is over?”

“Fuck, you’re cute. I don’t deserve this.” Kim laughed outright, the not-paparazzi now apparently forgotten. The pure, joyful sound of it speared Chay through the chest and pinned him against the rough brick. His soulmate and idol were one in the same… And he was happy with Chay?! Kim’s voice brought him back to reality, “We’re going to sprint on three, alright? When we get out the other side, whatever happens, don’t let go of my hand. Okay?”

“Never, P’Kim.”

“Perfect. Ready?” 

Chay nodded.

“One.” Kim reached down and tangled their fingers together with intentional slowness. 

“Two,” Chay breathed, squeezing gently and feeling Kim squeeze back.

“Three.”

[riddler-apologist]

thinking abt this picture

like woo! sport! :)

[shibaraki]

this is me looking at you monty

grips your pant leg on my knees sniffling…all might sugar fic…please…hic sniff…

lamb oksjsksjdkdjdks PLEASE I can feel u staring at me with ur big wet eyes. there there… I PROMMY I’ll give you the all might sugar fic 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[cyancherub]

pls do the minion theme

—🧢

OKAY I WILL <3333

[underthetallwaves]

[aseyaz]

[smoosnoom]

hello moon! i will read any of ur fics even the saddest one (despite i don’t like feeling sad) bc i know ur a good person and u won’t leave ur characters or readers with a broken heart ♥️

i can always guarantee a happy ending (unless i can't) 🫡 im Honored to be trusted with a little bit of angst thank u very much alya !

[jamjoob]

HAPPY DUNMESHI THUR- *gunshoits*

[clownboybebop]

if you’re ever in the position to choose between giving up and accepting defeat, and actually trying to fight the ancient unkillable god that is about to peel apart reality like a string cheese, remember this: scientifically speaking, you might as well give it a shot!

1.there were trees at the beginning of the world! there were trees so long ago that they predate bacteria that causes wood to decay. when a tree fell, it would lie there in stasis and there wasn’t any way of breaking down wood xylem on a molecular level in that way.

2. it seems obvious to say, but wood eating bacteria are literally incapable of comprehending what they’re breaking down. It’s just not information conciously available to a microorganism. they don’t know what they’re deconstructing, where it came from, bacteria have no way to even fathom the existence of a tree as a concept.

3. Regardless of the facts above, the world we live in today is a world where wood inevitably decomposes

it is worth fighting the unkillable god no matter how pointless it seems. it is worth taking the risk even though youre trying to accomplish something impossible. the reality in which you live was also once reality in which trees didn’t rot. You live in a reality that allows for existence before the possibility of destruction. you live in a reality where uncomprehending microbes break down matter that is so far beyond the scope of their comprehension that it feels comical to specify something so obvious. you live in a reality that occasionally allows unshakeable physical truths to be altered with no warning.

It is worth fighting the unkillable god because trees are so old they predate the source of their destruction, and it still did not spare them. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because bacteria rots unthinkingly, because there is room in our cosmos for destruction without comprehension on the part of the destroyer. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because now and then reality retracts the promise of immortality without fanfare, and when that happens there is no mercy for the ancient. the unmaking is not softer for the desecrators ignorance. for all things, existence is endless until the exact point where it ends.

so you might as well try to kill the unkillable god. it doesn’t seem likely, but at the beginning of the world, trees didn’t rot. so you never know! you never know

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[yellowplumfruit]

just learned that a mutual of mine is pro israel (they’re now blocked) so i wanted to take the time to say that if you believe what’s happening in palestine is not a genocide than you are not welcome here. unfollow me block me whatever i don’t want you interacting with me at all

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.