#but enjoy something sweet for now

[lauronk]

also i fully posted a fic this morning and then completely forgot to share in all of the death-by-trailer DID YOU SEE THEIR FACES ugh anyways here

happy birthday joel miller, here's the ones you deserved

[milf-murdock]

Simon muttering "what have you done to me?" when he realizes he’s in love with you.

Maybe it's the first time he catches himself draping a blanket over your form after you accidentally fall asleep on his lap.

Maybe it’s the first time he finds himself hurrying home after a mission because he just can’t wait to see your face.

Or maybe it’s the first time he catches himself eyeing a beautiful bouquet of flowers in the shops. “Ten fucking quid for flowers? Are they mental?” He sets them down with a huff and walks away to finish his shopping…only to begrudgingly grab them anyways on his way to the till.

He knows they will make you smile—that bright beautiful smile you seem to reserve just for him.

And as he sets the soft pink bundle on the checkout counter he can’t help but mutter aloud, “what have you done to me?”

[ruporas]

bound to want (part two) /// part one rest of pages under READ MORE after ID

[ID: 23 page digital comic of Vashwood from Trigun Maximum. The comic is in a limited palette of a dark blue, light pink, white, black, and a light beige color for Vash's skin and a mid-brown color for Wolfwood's. This comic is the second part to "Bound to Want" and is spoiler-free. The first part is linked here.

It begins with a panel close up of Vash's expressions. The sky colored in dark blue can be seen behind him. He has a neutral expression, but he holds a slight frown and the reflection of his glasses covers one side of his eyes. Wolfwood says, "Hey. What's with the distance?" In the second panel, the shot widens to show both of them, a clear physical distance separating them with Wolfwood walking ahead and Vash trailing a little behind. Vash responds, "What? I'm just walking a bit slower today..." Wolfwood looks at him with a an irritated expression, clicking his tongue. Wolfwood says, "I was going to wait for you to start... But yer just running away away."

Vash is seen looking away, unable to hold eye contact with Wolfwood as he continues, "You've been avoiding me since that night. Did ya think I wouldn't notice? It's about that dream, right? Tell me about it already if you're going to be moping like this." Vash looks slightly downwards, his brows furrowing and he starts to walk ahead of Wolfwood without looking at him and responds stiffly, "I really don't want to talk about it..." Wolfwood looks at him with a surprised expression, but doesn't probe.

A panel close up to Wolfwood's eyes as he watches Vash go on ahead before he follows suite with an irritated sigh. The panels are overlapped by Wolfwood's hand holding the bottle of the Bride with motion lines, indicating a transition in time.

A wide shot of Vash and Wolfwood in a room now. Vash is seated, his back turned away from the viewer, while Wolfwood's body faces the viewer with his eyes looking towards Vash. He rests the bottle of the Bride on the table with a "clack" and his other hand holds two shotglasses. The background is coated in a light pink.

A panel shows a close up of Wolfwood's face, his eyes looking downwards to Vash as he says, "Let's drink." Next to this panel is Vash looking up at Wolfwood, his brows furrowed and a slight frown. The bottom half of the page is a wider shot with Vash's body turned away from the viewer as he says, "I'm not going to talk about it." Wolfwood responds, "You don't have to." as he sits down.

A wide panel of Wolfwood holding the shotglass, pouring in the drink as he continues, "I'll talk." The next panel is a profile view of Wolfwood, his eyes looking down at the now filled shotglass as he continues to say, "You're..."

"... upset with me." Vash can be seen next to this speech bubble with narrowed eyes, looking towards Wolfwood. The panels are all coated in with a dark blue background. Wolfwood continues, "I can't be certain why since yer not telling me a thing -- but it's probably... my bad." The panels show Wolfwood about to bring the shotglass to his mouth but he turns way as he continued to speak, his eyes not on Vash. The bottom page shows him looking away completely with a guilty expression as he says, "I'm sorry.

If you can ever tell me why, I can try and adjust to make it more bearable. But if you're just trying to get rid of me--" The panels follow Wolfwood's certain expression as he says this, "I don't intend to leave you. I can't... and I won't." A panel shows Vash's wide-eyed expression, surprised upon hearing this, and then his eyes soften as Wolfwood again concludes with, "I'm sorry."

Vash's inner thoughts begins, a boxed speech at the center of the page and panels of his eyes, his brows furrowing again and a resigned, but frustrated expression. His thoughts starts, "Stop. I shouldn't be happy hearing that. And why are you apologizing? I should be the one to..! I can't let anything like that happen to you. You deserve to live a long steady and peaceful life. I want to be optimistic. I want to protect you, but I might end up doing the opposite." The text surrounds Wolfwood from Vash's perspective, the other man drinking out of his shotglass, his eyes downcasted.

"I shouldn't have you. And you won't leave." Behind these text is a panel of Wolfwood's eyes finally looking over to Vash. Vash's thoughts continues,  "It's so unfair." When Wolfwood sees Vash, his eyes soften and he frowns. The last panel shows the lower half of Vash's face, but tears begins to flow down his cheek. Wolfwood's hand is already reaching to wipe at them as he starts to say, "You know..."

A wider shot of Vash and Wolfwood, Vash slightly leaning forward with his mouth tightly shut, and tears steadily continuing to flow out of his closed eyes. Wolfwood continues to wipe at them with his hand as he continues, "This isn't a dream anymore. I don't know what you saw for you to be this shaken up, but whatever happened, you'll overcome it, right? If not you, I'm here too. You'll be okay, Spikey. So..." Wolfwood's expression grows more tender, "Have a little faith in me... and come back already." The dark blue starts to fade.

The wide panel has the dark blue background faded and replaced is the light pink. It shows Vash in full up to his shoulders, his eyes are still tears littered, but there's light in them as he says, "Wolfwood..." making eye contact with the other. The next panel shows Wolfwood's tender expression, his eyes and brows fully soften and he has a small smile on his lips, finally seeing the other return a level of sincerity with him.

The next panel shows the bottom half of Wolfwood's face and his hand is offered towards Vash for a dance as he says, "C'mon. We don't have to talk, but this is okay, right?" The background is now white and a ribbon flowing across the page separates this panel from the next sequence. Vash's inner thoughts continus, "I've spent too long avoiding this. It's scary to want after I've taken so much from others." A sequence close up of their hands is shown, with Wolfwood's outstretched hand on the right and Vash's reaching hand on the left. Vash gently places his hand in Wolfwood and at the bottom, Wolfwood wraps his fingers across Vash's.

Throughout the page, a dark blue ribbon starts to flow around the both of them with confetti raining alongside the effect. Vash and Wolfwood are hand and hand, dancing together with Wolfwood as the lead. The viewer can see a peak of Vash's expression, full of fondness but also a hint of sorrow as he looks down at Wolfwood. His inner thoughts continue, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. But why is that even though I have these burdens, I still want to love you. I still want you to be by my side."

With a close up of their mouths, Vash's thoughts continue, the text covering his mouth, "Wolfwood, I--" Wolfwood's speech bubble covers Vash's text as he completes his sentence, "want you." Vash's eyes widen for one panel and in the next, his eyes spark, a blush appearing on his cheek and the confetti flows and spark. Tears ease up on his eyes again.

"Want me too already, Spikey." Wolfwood has leaned in enough to rest his head against Vash, a hand of his on Vash's neck, holding his nape and another hand pressed gently against his back. A ribbon separates this panel from the next, a mix of confetti flows across the page, as Vash envelopes Wolfwood in a hug too, holding him and his hand gripping tightly onto his back.

This page is just the ribbon flowly throughout the page on the white background, one white ribbon and the other a dark blue. Near the bottom, the ribbon envelopes each other in a loop. A conversation of Vash and Wolfwood is held over these ribbons, Vash starting to say, "What if I hurt you? What if you..?" Wolfwood responds, "You? How could you hurt me?" Vash, "You know what I mean... You see it everyday..." Wolfwood responds, "If you think I'm going to kick the bucket so easily, I suggest you look at me more closely from now on, idiot. I'm not that easy to get rid of."

The next page has the ribbon criss cross over the top of the page. Vash and Wolfwood can be seen in their dancing position again, Wolfwood now resting a hand on Vash's shoulder, as Vash takes the lead. Vash continues, "Well, I know that... I tried." Wolfwood responds, "But you won't anymore... since you want me... around, yeah?" Wolfwood's head cocks to the side, smiling with assurance, cheeks flushed. Vash looks at him with a wide smile and fond, loving eyes. The confetti flows across the bottom of this page and as it eases into the next page, it starts to disappear.

Vash responds, ".. Yeah... I do..." as he pulls Wolfwood into a hug again. Wolfwood says, "Not going to run away anymore, are you?" Vash says, "No... I trust you." A panel shows Wolfwood's turning away slightly with a shy expression, muttering "Geez..."

In a more simplified style, Wolfwood is seen gripping Vash's cheeks now with his hand, "Though... You do remember you avoided me for two weeks straight, right? How are you going to make that up to me?" Wolfwood asks. Vash responds with eyes closed and a pucker of his lips. A vein of irritation appears on Wolfwood's face. Wolfwood starts to squeeze at Vash's cheek with both hands, shouting, "Now that you've recovered, you're trying to be funny, huh?!" Vash says through the squished cheeks, "I'm just happy..."

The next page opens with a closed up panel of Vash's widen eye as Wolfwood's hand moves from squishing his cheeks to gently holding them and Wolfwood leans in. The inner thoughts starts again, "There's a chance I'm not making the right choice... My dreams, my fears of losing you, it will never go away. But you said you won't let it happen... And I want to hang onto your words closely this time. After all, if it's anyone who can make me believe, it's you."  The white ribbon from previous pages flows across the page and it visibly ends at the bottom of the page, enclosing the two of them as they share a gentle kiss with Vash holding Wolfwood's face, a tear in his eye.

The next pages starts with Wolfwood saying, "You cryin' again?" Vash responds, "I'm just grateful..." Wolfwood responds, "But you've always had me." Vash responds, "Being like this is different from staring at you from behind all the time though..." The two can be seen together again, Wolfwood pressing his elbows against the table with Vash leaning over him. Wolfwood is easing the tears out of Vash's eye again, just like earlier. A close panel of Vash's fond expression is seen as he says, "Thank you, Wolfwood." Wolfwood looks up at him with a small smile, gentle eyes. Confetti starts to flow lightly across the page as text starts to appear against the white background, "I'm the one who's grateful...

That you'd embrace someone like me, when I'm not fit to hold you in the first place... But I know better than to hesitate. The moment I acknowledged it, I knew I'd spend the rest of my life loving you. So, have as much of me as you want, Vash."

The final page shows the confetti gently falling down the page and at the bottom shows Vash and Wolfwood pressing their foreheads together, Wolfwood's hands cupping the side of Vash's face gently, and both of them smiling brightly with each other. ID END]

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Good Things

You deserve good things, and Kalim makes his point.

Character; Kalim Al-Asim

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance implied

Word Count; 450+

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

A soft sigh escapes Kalim’s lips, warm ruby eyes looking up at you as if you had hung all the stars in the sky. He was quiet, something that would have surprised anyone, but you knew that despite his loud and warm demeanour, Kalim had a calmer side, still warm but in the sense of the warmth of a comforting blanket instead of the sometimes harsh brightness of the sun.

You hummed, pausing your hands in his hair, looking back at him with a silent question.

He brought your hands down from his hair down to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, paying each joint of each finger mind before placing a kiss on the inside of your wrist and nuzzling into it.

“What was that for,” you hummed, a flustered yet giddy smile on your face. Even if you wanted to hide it, it was nearly impossible. Plus this was Kalim; why would you hide your happiness from him?

Kalim smiled widely at you, still holding your one hand. “Because you deserve good things!”

You deserve good things! Such a simple statement yet it held more weight than its simplicity. 

Good things. 

Kalim nearly drowned you in good things. One may think he gifted you gold and more valuables than humanly possible, and while that was true at the beginning, he had eased up.

And while he does still give you a miniature stroke every now and then by gifting you something that you honestly don’t want to even think about the price of, the ‘good things’ had changed as he got to know you. As you got more comfortable around him. As the lines between friendship and romance blurred until you found yourself clutching onto his cardigan as you melted into one of his warm embraces during a particularly rough day.

He didn’t push for answers, he didn’t push for anything. He was authentic with you from the first day you met him, and you, in turn, became authentic with him.

He never judged you. Never pushed you to go outside your comfort zone. And he stuck back with you where others may have walked on ahead.

You brought up his hands to your lips now and paid the same mind he did to your hands. “You deserve good things too,” you sighed in contentment. “I may not have-”

Kalim stopped you gently by getting his head off your lap and placing a kiss on your forehead. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. That’s enough… you are enough.”

You looked at him, and his bright eyes looked at you with the warmth of the sun. 

Cupping his face between your hands gently, you placed a kiss on his forehead too, lingering there. “Thank you, Kalim… for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” and he placed a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. Soft, yet it felt like the sun gently warming your skin.

~~~~~~~

Tags; @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @ithseem @inkybloom-luv @leonistic @lucid-stories @syrenkitsune @the-v-lociraptor @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.

It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.

The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.

They got worse.

By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.

That year, he became the freak.

At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.

He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)

His tics got worse.

In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.

Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--

So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.

No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.

He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.

He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.

He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--

But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.

And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.

Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.

Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.

The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.

Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.

When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.

It's okay. It's okay.

And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.

He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.

When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?

Steve kisses him.

And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.

One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.

Steve just says, Mine too.

[frostleni]

hi hi hi I love your art smmmm

I was wondering if you could draw rei a little chubby? I’m obsessing over the abs begone piece you did :)))))))))))))))

Just my hc of Rei softening up post ep 12 + being domestic + staying strong 💪

ALSO THANK YOU ANON HEHE this wasn't really what you asked for but it is a part of the same idea lol

[good-beanswrites]

Haruka clenched his fists. “Y-you would be surprised if you woke up and -- and -- and your cell was full of ice cream!

I was just thinking of this line from your last Mikoto drabble and wondered… Can you make this happen?

I certainly can >:3 I tried for a while to frame this as straight-up comedy, but it actually worked so much better as something sweet, with silly lines here and there :) Thank you so much for the request, it was so fun!! (Also, I wrote John using Mikoto's name for ease, but in my mind he's switching between first person pronouns.)

There was someone unexpected in cell 009. 

No, no, it’s not like that. Everyone was very aware that there were two distinct residents of that cell. John himself was very aware of his position in that cell. 

The thing was, someone else ended up in there, too. 

John kept his eyes shut, feigning sleep. The other person was here on a mission. They’d slipped in without creaking the metal door. Their footsteps were nearly inaudible against the floor. He would have thought it was Kotoko, with skills like that, but she would have leapt to an attack. This person was busy doing… something. 

He strained his ears. It was impossible to tell their goal. They were going in and out, moving things around. Was it a trap? There weren’t enough materials in the prison to set a trap. Were they stealing things from around the room? He had nothing of value. Plus, he was sure Mikoto would have given anything to anyone who asked. What, then?

Unable to come to any conclusion, he readied himself. He’d protect himself. He always did.

In one fluid motion, he rolled out of the bed and pinned the other to the ground. The perpetrator let out a high-pitched squeak. Impossibly wide and frightened eyes looked up at him.

“Haruka…?” That was the last person he was expecting. John squinted around the room. “What the --”

Ice cream. He didn’t know what it meant, but that’s what Haruka had been arranging. Dishes and dishes of ice cream. Everywhere. Plates stacked on the desk. Bowls strewn across the floor. All  vanilla. There was a scattering of toppings; some with colorful sprinkles and others dripping with chocolate sauce. When he’d tackled the poor boy, he sent another dish of it clattering across the ground.

“I’m sorry! Ah, I-I, ah, I’m sorry!” Haruka squeezed his eyes shut. “It-it’s a, it was a surprise, for you! For M-m-mikoto…!”

“A surprise?”

“The other d-day he said, we were, we were talking ab-bout --”

“He asked for this?”

“Uh, no, but --”

“He didn’t know about it?” John’s eyes narrowed. “It’s some kinda prank?”

“NO! No, n-no I’m not being m-mean. It was f-fun. A fun surprise.” Haruka held his palms up, unable to make his smile anything but panicked. “...Surprise!”

John stared.

Despite how nonsensical the whole situation was, there didn’t seem to be any danger. He rose. Haruka scrambled to his feet. 

John gestured to the extensive supply of sweets around them. “How did you get all this together, anyway?”

“O-oh!” Haruka wrung his hands. “I was, uh, planning it for a while. I requested ice cream three times in a row. And I n-never ate mine for dessert. I’ve been saving it. Es asked why, b-but they still let me keep it.”

“And why did you? Why do all this for Mikoto?”

“I t-told you, it was sup-supposed to be fun...”

John braced himself against the desk. He was just wondering how long it would take to take care of this mess. He mused, “it’s all going to melt.” 

He might as well have thrown a punch, the way Haruka’s expression shifted. “I’m sorry! I’m -- I… I didn’t think of that…”

“Eh? You don’t need to apologize or anything. It’s fine.” 

They fell into silence. Haruka shifted on his feet. 

“Y-you… can have it, if you want. The ice cream. I didn’t let anyone else have it but-but, you can, I think. ”

“I don’t want the ice cream.” He wanted to be left alone. He wanted the cell clean so Mikoto didn't stress out about cleaning it. He wanted to avoid being bothered by bizarre ‘surprises’ first thing in the morning.

His stomach disagreed, apparently. It let out a loud grumble. Both prisoners looked over. 

He muttered a curse. With a huff, he picked up one of the bowls. 

“Alright. But even if I did eat this, or Mikoto did, there’s no way I could finish it all.” He shoved it into Haruka’s hands. “You made this mess, you’re gonna help me deal with it.”

The boy nodded frantically. 

“Come on, you can sit here. Pass me that one, with the syrup. And hurry it up.”

[legendarceus]

this is what happened after the to be continued right

i’m so normal about the ending of this episode

[necrotic-nephilim]

i love your fics and the ideas you describe for the ask games. i'm especially fond of your takes on the rarer pairings and i always smile when i see your posts in the ship tags <3

and don't stress too much about not posting anything, real life is important and participating in fandom should be fun, not something you have to force yourself to do. god knows fandom burnout is real, especially if you feel like people are expecting something from you. just keep doing what makes you happy :)

ghgfhgjhkjhjhg this was so sweet, thank you so much! i *love* talking about rarer rarepairs, especially if it gets other people to ship them too. the popular ships are fun and all, but i truly love spreading rarepair propaganda.

that's very reassuring, thank you <3 i've loved everything i posted here so far and have not felt pushed to post anything i haven't enjoyed, but sometimes i forget i can like. use this blog for whatever i want and not *just* headcanons/fics/mets/etc lol. and i also forget i don't have to rush myself. it's annoying to want to write and either not have time or not have the words work. i used to run a fandom blog in my teens that got very large and felt like a chore and i was so stressed about the need to perform and the numbers and all of that. like if a fic didn't do well i saw it as a personal failing and forced myself to write popular headcanons just for the numbers game. was not fun or sustainable in the long run and i think it contributed to me no longer having any taste for the ship i primarily wrote for. so for too long i treated existing in fandom like a job lol. i've mostly gotten it through to myself that this is a space for me, but i occasionally forget when i'm so caught up in all the things i want to get to for this blog. my to-write list is a mile long and i need to be bonked with a paper towel roll, i think. so it's very kind of you to say this bc the reminder is nice <3

[lavaburnsso]

Found this on IG this morning..

Seems like the more popular SSO gets, the more greedy they become.. ):

*Included a reddit link

[buttercup-art]

hey

[dootznbootz]

This may sound silly but there's something just soft about friends sending silly memes or vids or whatever to me.

Like whether or not you're a pretty good conversationalist, there's something so soft about "hey, this made me think of you" or even a silly "...Hey, I wanna chatter again."

[todayisafridaynight]

papas day

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

Pokémon said bisexual rights 🫵✨✨✨

[27-royal-teas]

“Pete has been missing for four hours,” Joe explains, not very patiently. “Please do your weird cryptophasia thing and find him so that we aren’t late to soundcheck.”

or: Pete is missing. Like always, Patrick finds him.