#but again! no pressure

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

the fic is just a bunch of ideas loosely sewn together for now and I'm not even sure if I'd have time to write it, but here's the two main ideas I'm battling with:

1. Fmab setting, kind of a fix it fic; reader is part of a family that's been serving the Armstrongs for generations (similar deal to Lan Fan and Fu with the Yao clan) and is sent to Ishval post Promised Day as a spy since things are getting messier and messier there. Turns out Scar and a whole Ishvalan faction are actively fighting for Independence (got very inspired by reading that one post of yours a few days ago). Possible tags include but are not limited to: enemies AND lovers, extremely slow burn, battles of wits to figure out who is trustworthy and who isn't, unbearable angst, bittersweet to "happy"? ending depending on Reader's development during the story to get the propaganda stick out their ass.

2. Once again a broho setting cause it's the one I'm most familiar with (I'm in the midst of rewatching 03); but we have an artist reader who's troubled past stops them from painting again. They start travelling in hopes of finding inspiration but get into a horrendous accident where they risk losing their arms — and the ability to paint ever again. They're rescued by the inhabitants of a nearby village where everyone keeps praising their miraculous doctor; that they'll be fine, they'll paint again for sure. Delirious from blood loss and the sheer fear of losing the one thing that makes them *them*, reader barely registers the doctor asking over and over again if they're sure they want to do this, if they're ready to pay the price— they accept, they say yes.

They get their arms back, they can still paint.

Here I'm not sure abt the details that'll lead to it except that they meet Scar at some point and form a bond, quite a profound one at that. The type of bond that makes them paint again; that brings vibrant reds in all things. And then they learn the truth of how they got their arms back, of the philosopher stone's nature... Potential tags: so much angst but what is a fma fanfic without it

... somebody sedate me

Ooooh, I'm definitely piqued by the first fic idea! Love that the ask/post about Ishvalan Independence inspired this one. An opportunity to see someone flesh it out further would rock, omg. The intrigue over the Armstrongs having their own spy to sus out the Ishval rebuild, yet the spy gets wrapped up in Scar enough to earn the enemies AND lovers tag 👀

The second one, though a bit looser in its conceptualization, sounds juicy and heartrending. I can already see the horror from the revelation of the method that restored the reader's arms and what that does to the both of them. Poor reader insert, and poor Scar.

Now on the one hand I wanna goad you on to write both, because Scar fanworks (especially ones that actually centers him whatsoever) are far and few between. But on the other, that's a lotta work and I'm the last person on Earth to throw expectations of a hefty workload done in a timely manner onto others (I can barely get myself to do anything at a reasonable timeframe lol). Hard enough to find time to do things outside of our daily tasks/jobs/whatever else. Soooooo up to you, anon. I hope one of these ideas has enough of a stranglehold on ya to see it to fruition someday, but no pressure!

No sedatives tho. Only stimulants. For purely recreational and non-self-serving reasons ;)

[suntails]

growing up!

[lemonadier]

The Saboteur !!

[z13lovebot]

Deep sea bunnies are FRIENDS 🤲

[juaneloriginal]

Sebastian and the Expendable

yeah

[paesthethyc]

[darkness-nova]

sometimes u just wanna be a little shit so that u can annoy ur favs <3

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

masterlist | part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this), part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Ground Riot agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[legowizard]

More Seb doodles 🏄‍♂️☀️🌊🪸🐚❤️‍🔥💋

[just-a-joey]

Mini Angsty comic kinda?

[itwouldbecarolinathousandcities]

I spoke no spell, I said no incantation, you - you were made from scratch.

[the-elder-polls]

i fucking hate doing this, but my house had to throw away 3 freezers and an entire fridge worth of food because we went without power for so long thanks to the hurricane that everything spoiled. if any of you feel generous and are able, i have a kofi and would appreciate any help. i also sell commissions there, so you can also get some art from it, if you want.

[tapakah0]

[bigrigsonice]

Hello electric dreams fandom

[cabi-leodrann]

[First] [Previous] [Next] Fight part 1/? I wanted to do the fight in one sitting initially. But it got pretty long pretty fast- so it's gonna be cut in two or three, depending on how much time I do the drawing- Funfact of this update: On my second party of COTL, I two or three tap Baal. Aym was more of a problem, but the two cats where quickly put in baby jail.