#he's a lil weirdo

[arminsumi]

HAHAHA WHAT THE HELL this is canon

Gojo Satoru being the most annoying out of pocket boyfriend with zero boundaries is something I live for

Imagine you’re eating a pastry

and you bite off a piece and he sees you eating and comes over to you. once he’s near you he opens his mouth and you’re thinking to yourself

‘Maybe he wants me to feed it to him…’

like a normal person

except Gojo isn’t normal

“Do you want a piece?” You ask him as you chew your pastry.

he nods and with the most serious look on his face, he says the next sentence

“I want the piece that’s in your mouth.”

you pause as you slowly turn to look at him.

“huh?”

“I want you to bird feed it to me”

“.… what.”

[caninescreations]

"Stanley you're making accusations with circumstantial evidence. Anyways I think you may need to cut back a bit on the smoking, your blood tastes- tested positive for high cholesterol."

[nonranghaes]

the new farmer in town is... a little odd, vernon thinks. he watches you go about your day, always with something new to do. sometimes you go up to the mines (he's heard mingyu mention it, and it's always followed by seungcheol frowning and saying he hopes you know what you're doing up there), other times he sees you go down to the beach. sometimes, when his sister wants to go in summer, he'll go with her and see you sitting peacefully out on the docks, fishing from sunrise to beyond sundown. you'll greet him sometimes, other times you bring him little things. things you've foraged, other things you've grown, sometimes you'll buy things from the saloon in town to hand off to him. not that he's complaining: he'll gladly eat whatever food you bring him.

but you're.... strange. today you greeted him and shoved one singular egg into his hands. he didn't dislike it by any means--hell, he's heard from the others that the eggs from your farm are delicious, so maybe he'll boil it later--but what kind of person just hands another person one singular egg?

... weirder enough, why does he feel like he likes you even more now? sure, he's always found you cute. but, like, something about receiving this singular egg makes him look at you differently. maybe... maybe he'll dance with you again at next year's flower dance, if you ask. he found it sweet when you shyly approached him this year, somehow already capturing his heart so quickly after moving here. maybe he could be more with you.

(and when you present a bouquet to him the next day... it's impossible for him to say no. not when you smile at him like that.)

[talxns]

y’know something that goes hand in hand with the coldification of bruce in regards to his relationship with young dick is this idea that alfred is the one to always intercede and basically shame bruce into doing something nice for the boy. it makes it so that if alfred wasn’t there to reprimand him for being cold, bruce wouldn’t show dick any warmth. and i don’t like that. i think that it’s important that bruce, while not super communicative and someone who is notoriously difficult to get along with, treats young dick with an appropriate amount of warmth and understanding and kindness. he doesn’t have to be scolded by alfred into making dick happy, he should be wanting to make dick happy irrespective of anything else.

the only exception is when bruce is doing something he thinks is good for dick and needs some perspective from an outside party (usually alfred) who is able to see things more objectively.

idk, it just seems like so often bruce is written like taking dick in is kind of a burden, and then alfred has to nag him about taking care of dick, when originally these two characters did not need any outside persuasion to be attached at the hip, sleeping in the same room, cooking for each other, spending every waking moment together, etc.

[lonely-linn]

He is a disgusting lil nerd and I love him

sick and tired and sick and tired and sick and tired and sick and tired of casanova cool as fuck six-pack abs bulging biceps ripped charmer everyone-wants-to-fuck-him most intelligent out of the marauders remus lupin

[killertoons]

Oh LOOK!

wally found some candy while doing some.....chores.....and they resemble his friends in the haunted neighborhood!

What a great day! 🍭🍫🍬......🐛🪦

[yayll]

Soo umm maybe angsty request but a reader who works at the agency but misses her old life? Like, family or her old self. If you wanna and like the idea!! Have fun💕

i know this is a thousand yrs late and i am so sorry abt that but also. thank you for trusting me w this request i rlly took it to heart and i cracked these damn knuckles and hopefully wrote something you'll like :') i had fun, angel. MWAH.

- a little something about emotions and Dazai's way of perceiving yours ~

"Aughhh..."

You're groaning at your desk again, face down and resting your forehead on the cold wooden surface. Lately, it's been the same cycle. You come to work and the day goes by in a blink of an eye, and suddenly... There is nothing else to look forward to but to do it all again tomorrow. It's been tough, with the agency constantly bombarded with cases and quite literally saving the world, you've forgotten to call home every week like you used to. Now it's every other month, if at all.

There are times when you go on your lunch break and think about how ordinary your life used to be, how you used to spend your time doing the opposite of what you do now. Joining the agency was a wonderful turning point in your life and you wouldn't trade it for the world, but sometimes it felt like there was too much happening, you were falling behind and not connecting enough with the foundations that made you, you. It was an overstimulating nightmare.

Your co-workers were so talented and caring and it felt like a family with the way you all worked as a unit and watched out for each other, yet the intrusive thoughts about you never quite fitting in wouldn't leave your mind. Or your face, for that matter.

This is where Dazai knew he had to get involved.

He could tell your mind was elsewhere, and he hated that. You were supposed to be wherever he was, even if you didn't fully know it yet. He constantly perceived you from across the office where he slacked off work as usual, but this time it wasn't to await his next grand revelation... It was to figure out why you seemed so distant. So far, yet so close. You always laughed at his jokes and antics, all a part of his attention seeking persona around the agency, but he could hear the way your laugh seemed to die down in your throat as if it burned to even make a sound. He recognized it as the kind of burn whiskey left behind in his own throat when he had his occasional drinks at Lupin after a particularly hard day. Dazai knew the feeling of ruminating, of feeling stuck in the past and how it could keep you from existing in the present if not dealt with properly. But he wasn't exactly the shining example of dealing with one's feelings, not when he was a walking contradiction, which is why he hesitated to bring this up to you directly.

Of course, that didn't stop him from trying, not when you're groaning so adorably within earshot.

Not when he would do anything for you to drop that fastidious attitude that won't give him the proper time of day. It was pathetic and selfish of him, but it was sincere. With a fixed smile like a Cheshire cat, he prances towards your desk and stands there for a solid minute before you realize the familiar entity looming over you.

You slowly look up, dark under eyes are the first to properly greet him, along with that cute clip in your hair that's barely holding it all together. He thinks you look even cuter this way even if you were at your worst, and that made him feel a tad guilty... just a tad. He clears his throat softly as a deceptively cheerful voice pours out of him.

"Hi! You're looking awfully exhausted today."

You hum, a weak smile adorning your lips. You didn't want to smile at all, but it was a force of habit, so why not use it on the biggest clown you knew?

"Yeah? That's real observant of you, Dazai."

His heart races as you poke back, what a precious creature you were. He responds with faux indignance, rolling his eyes and the whole bit.

"Uh yeah, of course! It's why they pay me the big bucks, silly. You should try being like me sometime."

"Ah, is that the only thing I should try being? Not very original of me, I must say."

His smile drops to a more sly smirk as he shrugs, sighing dramatically while casting his gaze elsewhere for a moment.

You should try to be mine, he thinks to himself.

He doesn't deserve that honor, but it's the truth and he can always count on delusion.

"Eh, who cares about originality? That's what writers use as an excuse to torture themselves. It's no fun, You might as well jump off a bridge with me instead."

You raise an eyebrow at that, your fake smile becoming a bit more genuine now.

"I think I'll pass on that, Dazai."

He pouts, and you hate that he resembles a puppy with the way his eyes comically droop.

"Such a shame. I was hoping we could share that experience together. It would be quite the work bonding exercise, don't you think?~"

You nod, your voice laced with what he hopes is a playful retort, but it is much too deadpan.

"I'm sure it would."

"You know, you're surprisingly hard to torment."

You hum once more, shrugging as you look back down at the files on your desk, unable to hold his dark eyes that seem to penetrate your very soul.

"... Well I suppose I could say the same about you."

Before you know it, you feel his warm breath against your cheek, having leaned down to your level to murmur in your ear. It's velvety and far too intimate for the middle of the workday, tempting like the devil himself.

"Like I said, we could always drown our sorrows in the river. That always helps."

You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze, a slight flush begins to burn your cheeks and you wish you hadn't turned at all. It's sick the way every once in a while he'll test your boundaries to see if you'll let him in, if you'll see past the charm and the self destructive tendencies that might just seal his fate one day.

But you need him right now! And you clearly need a bit more of a push rather than just jokes, so he makes a point to grill you until you have no choice but to run into his hypothetical arms. In that instant, he catches your phone light up, the word 'MOM' is as clear as the red that spreads through your face.

Ah, so that's it.

"Seems like you should take that."

Your eyes widen as you flicker between him and your phone. Shit.

"Maybe later. I'm not really in the headspace for a call right now... Might go out for some lunch and get some air."

"I like air. Perhaps we can get some together? You might have too much and need someone to resuscitate you."

You snort softly and immediately feel embarrassed for being so casual out of your own human weakness. Yet somehow Dazai's ridiculous jokes always manage to get you to play along and forget that very embarrassment.

"CPR involves air, Dazai. You'd kill me in the process."

He clutches his chest, letting out a dreamy breath.

"Ahhh. Romantic, don't you think? I'd follow you immediately, of course~"

You shake your head as you stand up to walk out for your much needed reprieve from the inescapable thoughts you can't shake.

"You're impossible."

He stands back to give you your space and sticks his hands into his coat pockets, beginning to follow right behind you. He taps your shoulder when your back is fully turned to him, clearing his throat as he says your name in the most sinful way.

"Ahem. You forgot your phone."

You freeze in your tracks. You want to so badly do what your mind is screaming to do, but you can't bring yourself to do it. The battle between wanting to grab that bit of normalcy you miss and wanting to avoid it like the plague is the fear of the commitment to acknowledge it. You slowly turn to face him holding out your phone for you and yet again... It stings when he looks at you like that. Like he actually cares. It makes you feel drunk on the sensation of being seen on a deeper level, the butterflies in your stomach keep saying so. You sigh, and mumble back.

"Leave it. I don't need it right now."

He steps a little closer, way too close for comfort. His voice drops to a more serious tone, yet it's nothing but gentle, firm. It's a Dazai you don't think you've ever heard except when on a mission. Even then it always felt performative. But not now. He takes your hand in his bandaged one and holds it out for a moment with your palm facing up. His desire for you to make amends with your troubles is far more important than proper customs, so he needs to do this and do it now before you drown any deeper and he loses his self control.

He can save you even if you're too stuck in your own self pity to see the brightness of your own future. How you shine like a diamond in the rough, if only you'd just let yourself live in the now. He whispers to you.

"I think she'd like to know how you're doing. Family, they're the only normalcy you can have sometimes... Especially in this line of work. I think you know that."

You gaze into his dark eyes, and for the first time are not afraid to hold eye contact as you realize you actually want to hear more. Finally, a real piece of him is being shown to you?

"... Is that something you relate to, Dazai?"

He almost winces at that, a flashback of two friends he once considered family flash into his mind. Maybe today is a Lupin day. He could imitate your angelic laughter as the whiskey burns his throat. He hides all of this with a nasty little smirk, elusive as ever as he lies through his teeth.

"Absolutely not."

You seem a bit disappointed at first, but before you can dwell on it too much, your thoughts flicker back to the phone call you realize it might be time to make. Your mood is instantly different. Hopeful, even. Dazai places your phone in your palm, slowly closing your hand into a small fist. His hand lingers on top of your knuckles for a second too long, and you realize you are, in fact, unable to keep looking him in the eye like this or else you might just collapse knowing he'd catch you. The concept alone is intoxicating.

"I'm gonna take this, okay?"

His smirk softens, almost boyish with the way he instantly relaxes and reverts back to his usual self. The mood shifts back to how it felt before, and Dazai nods in reassurance.

"You go get some air. I'll be here."

He waves you off as you flash him one last smile before exiting the office. That'll keep him going for a while, he thinks. You look so beautiful when you're full of life, he hopes it rubs off on him too. He stands there for a long time in deep thought, simply smiling at the floor. At some point your hair clip fell out without you noticing, and so he picks it up, pocketing it. He'll consider this the consummation of your relationship.

An hour passes by and you walk back into the office, eager to tell Dazai about your call back home and how refreshed you feel. That he was right, and you wanted to share this new found perspective that he helped you approach and conquer. You find the office is completely empty, and when your eyes glance at your desk, there's a sticky note left on one of the many trinkets you display on it. You read it out loud to yourself.

"You long for the past, so perhaps we can recreate it. Maybe a nice long walk by the river, or we could always try a more private solution.

Either way, I'm at your mercy.

- Osamu"

You can't help but want to kick your feet at the little heart he doodled next to his messy handwriting and make a mental note to properly give him your contact info next time. You'd make sure to take a call from him, because you know he'd make it worth your while.

He always does.

[angelribbon]

stepdad!logan makes you sit between his thighs while he’s manspreading btw 🎀😊

[confusedfeelsfangirl]

Kabru ? Yeah, I like him a normal amount, as much as any other secondary character…

*trips and spills their bag full of pictures of Kabru with hearts and lipstick marks all over them*

Oh… those aren’t mine… I-I was holding them for a friend ! I’m very normal about him !

*their phone saver lights up showing a picture of Kabru with Manipulate, Mansplain, Malewife written in Barbie font*

Haha this is a joke… it’s ironic !

[powerin]

the best character in scarlet and violet and it isn’t even close

[blue-lollipops-and-ice-clouds]

III being III.

(Source)

[thestarfishface]

I wanna talk about Larry so fuckin' bad rn but I can't bc spoilers for my fellow players

gahd dambit

[maximura]

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Hi!!

I don’t know if your ask box is still open but if possible can you write an angsty Sodapop and Dallas fic? I don’t see enough of them and they are one of my favorite duos!

OH! I LOVE THESE TWO!!! I think I'm going to write a longer fic of them for ao3 but I LOVE this prompt!!! Fic below the cut!!! ty for the ask!!! (also if you would like to be tagged for the longer fic feel free to comment anon!!! if not NO problem at all!!)

"Soda, c'mon." Dallas puts his bony shoulder under Soda's, unsurprised when he feels Soda put a decent amount of his body weight on him.

Soda blinks up at him and his eyes are all blurry and wet and Dallas thinks shit, I let him drink too much. Three shot glasses are lined up in front of each of them, half a beer on Soda's side, two empty on Dallas'. Darry was goin' to kill him.

"Let's get out of here." Soda shrugs, grins that blindin' toothy smile up at him.

"I'm fine, Dally." And his words aren't slurrin' or anythin' so Dallas gives him one hard look over and lets it go. He'd cut him off for now. Soda always was a lightweight. Pony would claim it was 'cause Soda was already drunk on plain livin'. That sounded like poetic bullshit to Dallas but the plain facts were Soda 'n alcohol didn't mix well. Dallas didn't know what had compelled him to ask Soda to Buck's tonight.

Darry was gonna kick both their asses.

"Dallas?" Dally eyes two men, still mostly boys, at the other end of the bar and tries to assess whether they'll kick up a fight. Dallas knows what lookin' for trouble looks like.

"Hmm?" Soda tries to reach across the bar to get another drink and Dallas bats his hand away. Glory, those Curtis boys were makin' him soft.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before. You know that?" Dallas pulls up short, furrows his brow, turns himself fully back to Soda. Steve had once described the look on Soda's face like starin' down the headlights of a Mustang 'n not bein' sure whether it was gonna hit you or not. Soda was prone to sayin' the damndest things outta nowhere.

"Yeah, you have." Dallas grabs a water Buck had poured for someone else and stubbornly ignores the glare the man shoots him. "You've met a thousand guys like me. Now drink this."

Soda takes the water Dallas shoves into his hand with a quirked brow. "No. I've met a hundred guys like the one you pretend to be. But you're one of a kind Dallas."

Dallas feels his nails dig into his palms. "That's it, man. You're cut off. You're gettin' sappy on me." Soda's laugh sounds like a gunshot and it jars Dallas' suddenly shot nerves.

"Now, what do we have here?" The line is so corny and overused Dallas can't help but flash his teeth in annoyance. When he glances over to tell the owner of the one-liner as much he catches a wave of whiskey breath and the two men from the end of the bar. No. Boys. Up close they're not even older than Darry.

"Beat it. We're not lookin' for company." He puts his hand down on the switchblade clipped to his jeans. Buck's was rough. Rough enough even havin' it in a pocket could slow you down too much.

"Dallas! Don't be rude." Soda flips around and he's showin' every damn tooth in his mouth and Dallas thinks glory he's worse than Pony the second you put a drop in him. No sense at all. Then he shakes himself because he sounds uncomfortably like Darry.

"Listen to you're friend here." The boy closest to Soda leers down at him with a smile like a broken bottle. "We're not lookin' for trouble. Just a bit a money." Soda cocks his head, waverin' slightly like he's just realizin' somethin' is wrong.

Before either of them can react Broken Bottle slides a knife out of his sleeve and against Soda's stomach. Soda tenses hard. Sobers instantly. Dallas thinks several things at the exact same time.

Fuck.

Darry was goin' to dig up their bodies 'n kill them.

Get the fuck away from my brother.

Dallas moves entirely on instinct. He grabs the boy closest to him, has his switch out 'n leveled against his gut before any of them blink. Soda doesn't move, back ramrod straight. But then he catches Dallas' eye 'n grins.

"Woah man, we're not lookin' for a fight." Broken Bottles' partner is white as a sheet, he's got his arms up like Dallas' got a gun aimed at his head. Even Broken Bottle looks suddenly unsure.

"C'mon Dallas." Soda's eyes are shinin' in the dim light and he looks like the fuse on a firework as it burns down to the gunpowder. "They don't want a fight. But, hey, give me your St. Christopher. I wanna do my last rights anyway." Dallas grabs his pendant with one hand, not movin' his knife at all, 'n pulls it right over his head, droppin' it in Soda's hands.

Broken Bottle jars his knife closer to Soda and he pauses. Looks at him with the full force of those headlight eyes. Soda wraps the chain around his knuckles like a rosary, Christopher out. Closes his eyes like he's gonna pray. Both boys shoot each other looks. They picked the wrong fight. Dallas 'n Soda were made for nights like these. But they were goin' to find that out by themselves.

"Glory," He opens one eye and his smile is like a Roman candle, "Forgive us for this." Soda's hand shoots out, connectin' with Broken Bottles' eye, the other hand comin' down on his knife, wrenchin' it free 'n tossin' it clear over the counter. Soda preferred a good skin fight. Dallas would happily go at it with anythin'.

Dallas moves the knife up to his boy's throat when he jerks to help Broken Bottle. The kid freezes instantly. New to this. Not from around here. He reeks like the middle class holdin' up a pair of Greasers for nothin' better to do.

He spares Soda a glance but he doesn't need any help. He's thrown his full weight at the man, sweepin' him onto the filthy bar floor and layin' punches wherever he can reach. Dallas hesitates for a second too long.

He feels the fist connect with his side before his can tense. It only knocks the wind from him for a moment. He pulls the knife back up and thinks about usin' it. Hard. But then the kid puts his fist up and in front of his face to hide his tremblin' lip and Dallas thinks, not for the first time, fuck Tusla's stupid fair fights. He tosses the blade onto the bar and cracks his knuckles against the kid's jaw.

Dallas has his partner backed against the bar, arms up again. God, what was the point of a fight if you were just gonna give it up before it got good. Soda clambers off the ground, tosses Dallas back his necklace and he catches it out of the air.

The fight doesn't have time to get interestin'. Soda slams Broken Bottles' head against the floor and he stops fightin' at all. Middle-class losers. Soda gives him more grace than Dallas would ever have. His knees pin the boy's elbows down as he lands one final belt straight to his eye. One to grow on. When he pulls his hand away the outline of St. Christopher is indented in the flat bone of the boys cheek.

He puts his foot down beside Broken Bottles' head and he looks just like a paintin' Pony had once shown Dallas in one of his art books. What the hell had it been? Michael. Warrior angel Michael. He shakes his head.

"You think they're done, Dally?" Dallas shoots them a cold glare and they both scramble back and away the second they can.

"They better be." Soda drapes an arm over Dallas' shoulders, wipes blood from his busted lip. They're both gone before the door can slam. Dallas turns when Buck's hand comes down on his shoulder. He passes him his discarded knife, pats him on the back twice, gestures for the door. Some hurrah.

Soda doesn't take his arm away as they both hit the street again. Dallas doesn't fight it.

"We should have cleaned that up before we left." Dallas gestures to the dryin' blood across Soda's mouth. He grins and licks his lips and runs a hand across his face.

"I think it makes me look tuff, don't you think?" And it does. Soda always left fights lookin' like the tragic JD with a heart of gold in those corny movies they showed at the drive-in. But Soda always had preferred beach flicks.

"Tuff enough Darry's gonna know we were in a bar fight the second we hit the porch." Soda howls his laughter and Dallas can't help but join in.

"Guess we'll have to take our chances. I wanna go home."

"Yeah, home." Dallas can't explain it. How it hits him sometimes. He didn't know how he'd ended up here. Somehow part of this dysfunctional little family full of greasers and hoodlums and kids just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But that wasn't true, exactly.

"You know Soda," Soda shakes his hair from his eyes, grins at Dallas and out into a world that jumped you in bars just for lookin' like a grease like nothin' could touch him, "I think I owe everythin' to you, sometimes."

He'd followed Soda home from a corner store in '62. Then he'd turned around one day and ended up someone's kid brother. Life was funny that way.

Soda stops, studies him with those big eyes and Dallas thinks headlights. He's got that glow about him he always got after a good fight or a bad fight or a lame joke or a real smile. A car swings onto the street and Dallas blinks away the glare.

"Nah, Dally, you don't owe me anythin'." And he grins with his whole face, splittin' the dryin' cut on his lip 'n makin' it bleed again. "But next time we go to Bucks? Don't let me have any tequila shooters."

[slug-gore-bug]

Found this little weirdo skrunkling around in my deck.

[fyllophobia]