#based on true events lmao

[blu-ish]

Thinking about how Sonic's been raising Tails since he was a baby, thinking about how Tails definitely slipped up multiple times and has called Sonic Dad or Mom, thinking about how Sonic definitely saves those moments to poke fun at his baby brother later. 💕

[itsredpaint]

burnt

[sillyfrin]

been playing sm64coop with my friends using these models by numberonejenny and we've been having an absolutely insane time with it

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[crystalskies42]

Avatar human headcanons #2!

Imagine Lo'ak, Tsireya, and Rotxo waking up at the crack of dawn to scare the absolute shizz out of Ao'nung. Lo'ak and Tsireya are basically the menaces, while Rotxo is there for vibes, lol. (This is based on a fanfic I wrote a month back :)

Lo'ak and Tsireya: *Barges into the room* WAKE UP SLEEPYHEAD!

Ao'nung: *Wakes up abruptly* WHAT'S GOING ON!?

Neteyam, who was sleeping beside Ao'nung: *slurs* Ao'nung...? Wha' happening??

Lo'ak: :0

Tsireya: :0

Rotxo: :0

Rotxo: That's crazy

Lo'ak: >:0 WHAT SINCE WHEN!? WHY!?

Tsireya: *giggles*

[pegging-satan]

Chuuya and Kunikida, with 500 skincare products each, looking on horrified at Dazai washing his face with dish soap because his singular bar of soap ran out, and then slathering some body lotion on his face, all in five seconds and calling it a day

[littlebirdy0301]

On one hand I have no obligation to stay congruent with a past version of myself that doesn’t exist anymore, & there is no moral weight in parts of my identity changing...

On the other hand there is a silly little part of me that is just a little Absurdly Peeved that I did, in fact, “change my mind when I found the right person”

[starstruckodysseys]

feeling bored and unproductive? try sitting in college library for seven hours straight! you certainly will not regret sitting in college library for seven hours straight

[betterthanbatman1]

Today I woke up, had a dull ache in my body and could barley keep my eyes open despite it being past 1pm. I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I looked out the window and saw such a cute little Robin. It only sat for a few moments before flying away. I was filled with this sort of melancholy feeling, like the little bird abandoned me, but also it was so beautiful as it flew past and I was just in awe of the nature and the world. Like wow, I share this world with this amazing, beautiful creature. What a beautiful world I live in. And then my toast popped up and the fire alarm went off and I couldn’t get it to stop on my own.

Just had the most Bruce Wayne moment of my life.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[pericky; a look into ricky's head during their meeting.]

---

"I'm glad you came, I wasn't sure you would." The wine pours, the sound of it drowning out the missing word in that sentence: back.

Of course, is the response, and the part of Ricky that's spent twenty years tearing itself apart to understand why vibrates with relief. It doesn't matter anymore. Of course, of course, he thinks giddily along with the words. He never needed to wonder why Pericles wasn't coming back in the first place; he was always going to.

I'm happy you invited me, and of course he thinks again. A lifetime of pretending he wasn't always going to either falls away. However harsh and lonely the world has been, all's right with it again; and the shy voice of the boy inside him that he's tried so hard to kill says, so quietly, I missed you.

[ashtcnirwin]

what one might think a fic writer spends their energy on

creating profound backstories for the main characters

spinning intricate plots with sixty-eight layers to truly encapsulate the complete experience of the characters living it

devicing flowery ways of conveying the characters’ internal turmoil

sneakily inserting clever easter eggs in case of unusually observant readers

constructing a linear plan for how to flesh out the story

working their way through the story, one scene at the time, slowly but surely and patiently approaching the climax

smirking, sighing happily and cracking their knuckles when writing a section that they know will cause one or more readers severe emotional distress

what a fic writer actually spends their energy on

“what’s the word for that thing a person does with their face when they pull this super fucking specific facial expression that exists in my head but not in my vocabulary?”

staring blankly at the wall whilst sipping on a beverage, trying to decide if a character wears regular fit jeans or regular fit jeans but on the slightly looser side of regular fit cos while it doesn’t really matter, it also matters so fucking much

repeatedly re-reading that one 150 word section they wrote three months ago that fucking slaps and makes them feel alive

“the inclusion or exclusion of ‘well’ in the beginning of this one dialogue line will make or break the fic as a whole, so let’s take our time deciding what direction to go in”

(it took twenty-one minutes to decide to exclude it and turns out it made no real difference)

smirking, sighing happily and cracking their knuckles when writing a section that they know will cause one or more readers severe emotional distress

[caffichai]

What happens when the party's flirty changeling gunslinger meets their changeling doppelganger?

(based on real in-game events)

[yourlocalmissingtexture]

[fuckboy voice] Ahaha, this boy ‘bout to make me act up (consider actually writing fiction again)

[booksandpaperss]

whenever I see @light-lanterne reblog an angsty analysis post with the “📝” emoji in the tags I always start sweating and shaking in fear bc they’ve written the darkest eyes and the trees are growing restless and if you’ve read those you’ll know those are not all sunshine and rainbows 🥲

[carrotscorner]

imagine play a fps (first person shooter) with your f/o. how much chaos would there be?

[friendball-irl]

Wgat fuckin year is it

I just woke up good lord

Apparently I was shleepy