#i added a readmore this time!

[obstinaterixatrix]

Do u know any good mob psycho 100 fanfics?? Or authors??

well obviously my sister but I’m guessing you’re the same anon so 1) you already know her fics 2) you want different recs from what’s on her list (some of them being fics I rec’d to her lol). recs will skew heavily seri/rei and I’m just going through my bookmarks so it’s gonna be most recently read to oldest read. also seconding sister’s recs of bobmoss and crookedturtle. but I’ll add a fic from each anyway because I already wrote something for one while I was drafting this (oops)

Recollection by CowardlyBean

This is the journal of missing 31 year old Reigen Arataka, distributed with permission from friends and family. The version presented in this document has been kindly edited with added commentary by a loyal customer of his. -Editor’s Note

gen, experimental and in progress at 14k so definitely deserves more love than it’s getting. inspired by house of leaves; as the summary says, it’s some rando writing annotations about reigen’s journal, but Something Weird Is Going On. the 4th chapter updated so I actually need to catch up. also, sister rec’d this fic to me

Like Acid Reflux, or Love by partingxshot

Dating Reigen is like dating a single dad—only with more children, weirder scruples, and an extreme ruthlessness vis-à-vis group takoyaki discounts. He's not hot enough for this.

OR: "Me, You and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oates but with fifteen million teenagers.

OR: Outsider POV exploring Reigen’s dedication to his gaggle of bizarre children through an ill-fated dating attempt.

OR: Serizawa gets bruxism.

gen(/pre-relationship seri/rei), oneshot, 7k. oc/reigen breakup lmao. extremely funny concept, extremely good execution

Dream Dial by Alakazamboni

For the better part of nine years, Arataka has proudly worked in customer service at a behemoth of a company. At least, that's what he remembers, but a strange illness and a mysterious caller keeps trying to convince him otherwise. It doesn't help that this caller has the power to distort reality.

seri/rei, in progress, 16k. great uncanny atmosphere, and also reigen is trapped in time prison as a miserable office worker. hasn’t been updated for a while but read it anyway, the stoping point is fine

What We Make by crookedturtle

Reigen and Tome are kidnapped from the Spirits and Such office to be used as leverage against Mob. They have two goals: to contact the outside world, and keep each other safe. In doing so they engage in a dangerous game of lies and manipulation with their captors—a game with potentially deadly consequences.

gen (bg seri/rei), complete, 36k. Good for whump and high stakes interpersonal maneuvering & drama. I liked how the story extends beyond rescue and goes into how everyone navigates the fallout

Man's Best Friend by bobmoss

A cursed dog gets left at Spirits and Such. Anyone who pets it is doomed to die a horrible death.

Reigen, of course, pets it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. funny and cute and sweet :) there’s a very charming tentative & tender vibe

heart line by ruthwrites

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

seri/rei, oneshot, 6k. getting together fluff, a fun light read that also highlights serizawa’s insecurities—the internal narration has good character voice

If you won't believe me when I say it, believe me when I don't by deathdefied

Two years after Reigen invited Serizawa to work for him, he still can't quite categorize his feelings for his coworker. Instead of actually dealing with those feelings like an adult and talking to his friend, he decided to get really paranoid and overthink everything Serizawa does.

seri/rei, complete, 26k. reigen drives himself nuts lmao

Obvious by skeilig

Tome’s perspective on Reigen and Serizawa’s developing relationship.

gen (but about seri/rei), oneshot, 3k. I like outsider perspective getting together fics, especially when the perspective character is like ‘I’m actually not invested in this except when it affects me directly’

Cover Me by flecksofpoppy

Reigen’s shadow seems longer as the days move forward, more solitary. The cuts on his face heal and the ache in his bones go away, but a new sting replaces it. It’s loneliness, the thing he had managed to avoid ever since a primary school-aged kid who could make cups float stumbled into his office so many years ago.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. getting together fic that shows off a little of reigen’s gloomier side, it’s cute

loved you just a little too much by shcherbatskayas

You learn how to let go.

(It doesn't come naturally.)

gen(ish), oneshot, 2k. 2nd person character study of serizawa’s relationship with touichiro, I liked the ambivalence; effectively captures development over time with a relatively short wordcount.

offering genuine help with genuine results by suitablyskippy

“The curse was pretty clear on me not telling lies,” concedes Reigen. “It was pretty clear on me telling the truth. But,” as he lifts one finger, already sliding into the same educational tone he generally uses for imparting wisdom to Mob about life and love and the overall holistic benefits of making sure he’s always available for unexpected overtime work on weekends, “telling the truth isn’t necessarily the same as being honest, is it?”

“You’re the professional liar,” says Dimple. “You tell me.”

(Being cursed to only tell the truth and being cursed with Dimple as an employee are pretty much equally bad, as far as Reigen's stress levels are concerned.)

gen, oneshot, 2k. the tags include friends with no benefits whatsoever, which is very apt. Very funny to have reigen and dimple be petty and shady

a slightly more miraculous miracle by suitablyskippy

“Rumour has it that something impossible’s happened. Something that could never have happened. That shouldn’t have been able to happen.” In a single slick move Mezato produces a tiny voice recorder from an inside pocket, flips it open and active, and holds it up before Mob’s mouth to ask him, in a tone of devastating intensity: “Do you know anything about… a miracle, Mob-kun?”

Mob doesn’t hesitate. “We had maths homework to hand in,” he says. “But now we don’t have to. We don’t even have to go to the lesson.”

(The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Salt Middle School has been closed by an unexplained miracle, and the only thing wrong in Spice City is the fact that nothing is even slightly wrong at all.)

teru/mob, incomplete, 55k. for the most part I haven’t been repeating authors on this list, but listen. listen to me. I need you to listen. it is extremely unlikely for this fic to ever be completed. but hark, lest this sad probability turn you away and leave you dispassionately scrolling to the next fic, I need you (you specifically) to know that if I were in the same room as you, I would be wrestling the phone/mouse/trackpad/touchscreen/etc from your hands and furiously clicking the link. when I bookmarked this fic in 2017 I described it as having “some breathtakingly sensical prose and the funniest misunderstandings I’ve ever read”. trust me from seven years ago. open your heart.

skylight by inexhaustible

unconnected snapshots in what might, in some worlds, be something a little like recovery.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. character study that nails the tension of an escalating romantic atmosphere.

come on, come on, come over (take it off your shoulder) by mortarsmayfall

Reigen's free hand cradles Serizawa's head, curled under his ear just so to turn it for a better angle. He feels his pulse pound under Reigen's fingers, shivers just the slightest bit. If Reigen notices, he doesn't say anything about it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. when I first read this I saved it as a private bookmark because I was so embarrassed by the sheer intimacy of haircuts with severely unresolved sexual tension. I’m guessing this was written after studio bones gave us reigen cutting serizawa’s hair. crumbs no more; for once we had a feast to enjoy. short & sweet getting together fic

Off-White by reigreitz

Some habits are tells.

seri/rei, oneshot, 1k. snapshots of pre-relationship and established relationship scenes, I’m quite fond of it. on my first reading I’m pretty sure I remember not paying attention to the habit piece at all (even with it being right in the summary) so at the last scene I was hit by the double whammy of ‘oh so that was what serizawa was reacting to’ and ‘AW… THAT’S SWEET…’; I think the fic does a great job of hiding/not acknowledging certain things the perspective character knows and is reacting to, which makes it fun to reread and pinpoint what exactly serizawa’s previously more opaque train of thought was. like, it’s the same stuff, but you get to read into more nuance.

the seven stages of falling in love by reigen arataka by matsunoble

You suppose one of the weirdest times to realize you've fallen deeply and irrevocably in love is when it's fuck o'clock in the morning and you're blearily checking your fridge for leftover curry.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. I was quite taken by the mundane (and sometimes unappealing) descriptions of love, and I like when serizawa has the upper hand

Mr. Psychic by beefstatic

Looks like trouble in Spice City...

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. Serizawa Acts Like An Intimidating Bodyguard During Tense/Shady Situations. fun emphasis on that potential aspect of his character, I like how it’s done.

Late by hamlingo

For the first few days after hiring Serizawa, Reigen couldn’t help but be alarmed when the door opened at eight o’clock sharp in the mornings. He got used to it eventually, and in a month’s time he was more surprised when the door didn’t creak open right on time.

This was one of those mornings.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. this is actually among the first seri/rei fics I bookmarked so I can say with relative certainty that on may 20th 2017 I decided that maybe seri/rei was not just a joke of me indulging my own spurious unreasonable whims. fun character study and has that enjoyable tension of pleasant pre-relationship uncertainty.

Quiet Talks by krypkaktus

At some point, Reigen cutting his hair twice a month had turned into a mutual habit.

seri/rei, oneshot, 600 words. another charming snapshot of pre-relationship uncertainty, pleasantly embarrassing unresolved romantic tension.

walk in by ruthwrites

It was then he realized that the reason Reigen and Serizawa were standing so close was because they were kissing.

Mob was not really sure what to do with that information.

(or: mob leaves something at the office, comes back, and walks into something he wasn't supposed to)

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. an extremely popular fic for extremely valid reasons, this is a shining example of the outsider POV shipfic where the perspective character is like. I’m 14 and did not want to see you guys kissing. and the couple is like. we also did not want you to see us kissing, this is excruciatingly awkward.

tomorrow isn't always another day by suitablyskippy

It’s like Reigen’s been waiting for the question. He stops dead on the pavement, grips Mob by the shoulders, and stares down into his eyes with an expression as haunted as though every ghost the pair of them has ever exorcised has taken up residence behind it. “Mob,” he says. “Mob,” he says again. “Tell me, Mob. Look at me and tell me. Tell me truthfully. Do I look cursed to you?”

Mob looks at him, and tells him truthfully. “No.”

“Well, you didn’t look very long,” says Reigen. “Let’s just stand here for a moment, like so, and you can have another look, a nice long look, and really think about it...”

(There's nothing strange about being called back to exorcise the same haunted photocopier six days in a row. It must just be a very haunted photocopier.)

gen, oneshot, 18k. I didn’t mean to rec the same author three (3) times but this is also one of my top faves. extremely funny time prison where nobody is on the same page ever.

space voyage by Anonymous

Tome Kurata is slightly famous—or notorious, more like—for being... a weirdo, to put it simply. She's definitely a person of interest. Just not exactly in a newsworthy way, which is obviously the only way that matters.

mezato/tome, oneshot, 1k. charming pre-relationship contention, they’re the same type of self-absorbed and tunnel vision (affectionate)

I was thinking of not writing up recs for sister’s fics but since one author got three (3) fics on the list I’m gonna also put 3 of my fave fics of sister’s

Reigen's Comprehensive Fool-Proof Guide on How Not To Be Next Door Neighbors With Your Employee (because that'd just be creepy) by MalkyTop

Reigen hires Serizawa and they somehow end up as roommates.

seri/rei, complete, 17k. a fic sister wrote for ✨ME✨ that shows off reigen’s neuroticism and his decidedly not-normal attempts to come across as Extremely Normal, The Most Normal Man Alive. there are so many comedic setups and payoffs. there are so many shenanigans. reigen gets frog-boiled into romance. actually, I drop that term a lot but I’m not sure it’s a common enough to intuitively understand. it refers to the boiling frog metaphor

If At First You Don't Succeed, Find a Loophole by MalkyTop

Reigen keeps dying; Serizawa keeps trying to save him.

seri/rei, complete, 18k. sister was insane for this because she trapped all of her readers AND herself in time prison by releasing one chapter a day. it was really funny to witness because I was the only person not in time prison by virtue of editing privilege. while we were watching mondays: see you next week (an office time loop movie), sister was saying she was impressed at how effective/efficient the movie was at picking which scenes to repeat. this is to say, as someone who notices these details, sister was very intentional about when things changed and how things changed from the perspective of a character completely unaware of time prison. also, the emotional momentum is extremely good, I loved reading serizawa’s increasing desperation from reigen’s context-less perspective.

in absentia* by MalkyTop

After what was supposed to be a routine exorcism, Reigen wakes up in the wrong body.

serirei, complete, 26k. slowburn bodyswap with mystery and intrigue. a solid casefic! I can be biased and right. there are metanarrative elements that I find fun and that, in my opinion, highlights how sister did in fact get a degree in philosophy. there’s also some fun subtle and messy characterization notes, like when serizawa asks reigen not to cook for him. it’s hard to talk about what I like about this fic without giving away a lot of specifics, so go read it.

[timey-fandom-stuff]

"What, playing by the rules wasn't enough for you?"

"In that case... Let's play a new game, just you and me."

"I'm gonna count to ten, and if you're still there..."

"I'll make you disappear. Better get hiding."

'The Kriptid' isn't your standard issue Kris Dreemurr; it's hard to say what they qualify as these days. A few too many tweaks by an over-zealous Deltarune modder have left them irreparably changed. They don't appreciate what 'meddlers' have done to them or their world.

Are they human? Are they a monster? A secret third thing, it seems.

If you're lucky, they'll never be more than a fleeting shadow at the edge of your screen, a flicker of pixels you can't quite identify. To most they're nothing but an elusive urban myth. And to those who dwell within, they're merely a mysterious vagabond with a discomforting sense of humor and an eerily detached disposition... And a notable aversion to being directly observed. Their nickname seems all too apt.

But to those Players who reach a little too deep into the code...

Well, that's a whole other story, now isn't it?

[obitv]

villain william revenant au? did i hear anyone ask for a villiam/ashe au? no? well. you're getting it anyway

the first time you meet william wisp, you think there's a dead body on your couch.

a leap in logic for the average person, maybe, but when your dad... does a lot of work you don't want to think about, and then there's a pale, bloody, not moving boy getting blood on your favourite couch, you think you might be allowed make those leaps.

the screaming probably isn't as excusable though. not that you screamed THAT MUCH, ok, but. you did a little. and dropped your bowl of pasta that you ahd been planning to sit on that couch and eat. and that's how, surprise! you found out the corpse was actually a totally normal beat up kid who forgot to blink at you for a solid minute.

in his defence, you were also staring at him. you hadn't even realised mark had come home yet, and bringing random kids back with him was- definitely a new one. you keep getting stuck on the same though -- he's on my couch. your pasta is all over the floor and there's a stranger in your home but the most important part of this to you is that fucking couch and you can't get your mouth working enough to form words.

when you're standing there, eyes locked with this kid and pasta on the floor, that's when your dad finally comes in. obviously you screaming had startled him, because he looks a mix of frantic and pissed off like you've never seen from him. but when he slams the door open and you both snap your heads over to look at him, he just sighs and drags a hand down his face.

"fuck's sake... ashe, go back to your room. now."

it takes a few seconds for what he said to register with you. however, you've only been awake for 15 minutes and all 15 of those were spent trying to stay awake long enough to make the pasta you dropped, so even after the words sink in you're still just opening and closing your mouth without any sound by the time the boy speaks up.

"is this your fucking house?"

mark turns from lightly glaring at you to sending daggers at the boy. "you keep your fuckin' mouth shut, kid. ashe, go, now."

"no, hey! you can't just randonly bring me to some fucking house and not tell me? when you said you 'knew a place' i could stay until mal got back i figured you meant, like, a lair! a wave-cave! not a- are we in the fucking suburbs?"

"no, no, we ain't fuckin' doin' this right now! ashe, go to your room."

you watch this verbal tennis with a growing interest. you really, really want to ask what's going on, but- you haven't seen mark this pissed off in... a long time. and besides, if this kid is telling the truth, your dad offered to let him stay here, so. you'll get your chance to ask questions later.

you still need to go get breakfast, anyway.

-

a few hours later, when you're in the middle of throughly blasting your brain out with every speaker you own, your bedroom door creaks open. now that you're awake, and the blood's been cleaned off his face, you get a much better look at him.

and, because your life is a disaster, you realise that he's kinda cute. still dead-looking, even when hes walking, but there's... an appeal there.

you also think you might be finally losing your mind.

he goes to talk, then winces as he seems to register the music you still have on blast, whoch is when you also register the music and scramble to turn it down. and try not to blush. try really, really hard not to blush.

"hey, uh... hey. sorry for... scaring you earlier. and being in your house... wa- your dad didn't tell me anyone else lived here. or where here is. i- i'm william? william, that's me! you don't have to tell me your name or anything, but i. wanted to apologise. because i'll be staying here for a couple days, until my mentor is back. uh. yeah. sorry. again."

you do not know how you are supposed to respond to this. briefly, you wonder if you've watched any anime with this premise.

"uh. cool." and you give a thumbs up. you sit there, you stare this kid, william, who has probably been yelled at by your dad for the last few hours which you KNOW is terrifying, and, again, is cute, and you give him a thumbs up. and an attempt at a smile that feels a lot more like a grimace because you don't know how to be smooth to save your life. "i'm ashe, by the way. i'm not used to- having people over. or talking in general."

he nods, and smiles at you. just a small quirk of the lips really, but you count it as a win that you haven't immediately scared him off. "yeah. sick. i'll... go. now. nice to meet you, ashe."

it is unreasonably difficult to slow your heartbeat down again after he closes the door. you, ashe winters, are so fucked.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Could Never Want For More When I’m Here (George/Lucy/Lockwood)

In which Lockwood actually agrees to hold off on running into danger before they have all the facts; and Lucy and George find this unprecedented behaviour troubling. This is based on an excellent prompt from a dear friend, that prompt being: "Lockwood actually waits for George to finish the research before rushing in and both George and Lucy are confused and worried by this behaviour". I thought of about three different ways to take that prompt and I may revisit the other routes in future, possibly in short drabble form, but this is the one that felt most organic in the moment! I could've messed around with this for weeks trying to get it exactly how I wanted it to be but I am trying to get back in the habit of just like, writing when I feel like it and not getting so hung up on perfection that I never finish anything. So you get what you get. Once again written more with show!verse in mind but book-isms will undoubtedly be creeping in. Title from 4AM by Bastille bc.... it's just them, guys. Enjoy <3 [Read on Ao3] *

“No need to hurry, Luce,” muttered George, squinting down his nose at a blotchy photocopy of a very blotchy old paper. “Reckon I’ve a way to go before I make heads or tails of this lot. Does this word look more like ‘wailing’ or ‘waning’?”

Lucy lowered the chains she was winding to the table, just long enough to lean over George’s shoulder and follow his finger. “...Looks more like ‘waving’ to me.”

“You had to introduce another variable.” He sighed and took his pen out from behind his ear, scribbling a note on the brimming thinking cloth. “Put the kettle on. We’re going to be here a while.”

“Dunno about that. Lockwood’ll be down any minute. If we’re not ready to go he’ll run off without us, you know he will.”

“And right into a nasty surprise, no doubt.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Lucy promised, stopping en route to her other duffel bag to fill and switch on the kettle. George was right — on the off-chance Lockwood didn’t barrel through the door in the next thirty seconds, they could both do with a cuppa. “Try and keep him out of trouble.”

“Achievable goals, please, Luce.”

She snorted. “Fair point. We got any bomb flares left?”

George opened his mouth to answer, and was interrupted by the door swinging open to admit one Anthony Lockwood to the kitchen. The room seemed to brighten under the luminous force of his grin. He already had his coat on, raring to go.

“Lucy, George,” he greeted brightly, setting an empty mug from his room on the table with a flourish. “Good idea,” he said, gesturing to the bubbling kettle. “Essential preparations only. All present and correct, Luce?”

“Just need some more flares.”

“I’ll fetch them,” he said, sweeping towards the basement door through the gap between where Lucy hovered at the counter and George hunched at the table. His slim hands trailed briefly over Lucy’s arm and George’s shoulders as he passed. “George? Any joy?”

“Some — not nearly enough.” George turned in his chair to face Lockwood, a determined set to his jaw. “I need more time to dig into this. I think we’re missing something important.”

Lucy braced against the counter to observe George’s appeal with a sympathetic wince: she didn’t envy anyone who wanted to talk Anthony Lockwood out of diving into a deadly situation head first.

“I know we’re under time pressure from the client and this is an important job for us,” George forged ahead, rattling off the argument with a quickness that suggested he’d plotted out his talking points beforehand. “But I think going in blind on this one could be really, really bad. So in the interest of our lives, and my sanity, and all the teas unbrewed and biscuits uneaten, if you would please, please —”

“Yes, of course.”

George blinked. “What?” he said, eloquently.

Lockwood shrugged. “Take all the time you need. No point going in unprepared. What flares, Luce?”

“Um.” Lucy struggled to right her utterly derailed train of thought, from before Lockwood walked in; that strange and not-so-distant time when the universe made sense. “Uh, bomb flares. Thanks.”

“Coming right up. Two sugars in mine, if you wouldn’t mind.”

He slipped through the basement door, and Lucy and George stared at it in rapt silence as it swung shut behind the sound of his cheerfully descending footsteps.

Then they looked at each other.

“Kettle’s boiled,” George pointed out helpfully.

“Dropped your pen,” Lucy returned.

No move was made to decant water or retrieve pens.

George glanced at the door and back again. He pointed at it without looking as he met Lucy’s eyes and remarked, flatly: “Bit concerning.”

“Yeah. A bit.”

Another short silence followed, full of looks. Those classic looks of the ‘what to do about Lockwood’ variety. Then George sighed, picked up his pen and dropped it on the table.

“In this instance,” he said, pushing back from the table and heading towards the basement door. “I think the tea might be higher priority than research.”

“Good luck,” said Lucy, squeezing his arm before he vanished in search of their fearless leader — grateful that she didn’t even need to point out it was, technically, his turn to do the honours.

*

Sloping down the basement stairs at a brisk trot, George angled his perception as he drew near to the sounds of Lockwood; the rustle of that ridiculous coat was expected. The muffled, strained muttering was not. Stepping off the spiral stairs, George followed the sounds and surveyed the scene of Lockwood standing before a bank of grey, industrial shelves in the high security storage room — shelves where people who would’ve lived here in a less hostile world might’ve kept cheese or DIY tools or sentimental clutter that wouldn’t fit in the attic; and where they kept a range of handy ghost-repelling explosives. Lockwood stood with his back to George, hands on hips, looking up at the top shelf with a stiffness in his shoulders as he muttered to himself words George wasn’t close enough to hear.

“Lockwood?” George enquired.

Lockwood spun on his heel, plastering a grin onto his face just a tad too slowly. Not a proper grin, either. More like grimace with stage training. “George! Finished your research after all? I’ll just grab these and we’ll be on our way — last box is all the way up on the top shelf. Give me a hand, will you?”

“...You’re taller than me.”

“Ah. So I am.”

A less direct person might have allowed them to subside into an impasse after that stilted interaction. But George was a fan of getting to the point. “What’s wrong with you?”

It was a tried and trusted way to sidestep that tragically posh, chronically British manner of Lockwood’s to skirt around a personal issue. He ducked his head, avoiding George’s gaze, colour rising in his cheeks. The shadows under his eyes looked darker than normal, but perhaps that was the dull basement light. “Nothing at all,” he said, unconvincingly.

“You’re acting weird,” George pressed. “You’re muttering to yourself. And needing more research has never stopped you running out the door before.”

Lockwood bristled. “I thought you wanted me to be more patient. ‘Stop being a suicidal moron, Lockwood, and let me do my job’, isn’t that what you said just last week?”

“Doesn’t mean I expected it to happen. Not anytime soon; I was going to wear you down. I had a two year plan. What’s going on?”

“Nothing—!”

“No more secrets,” said George, firmly. “We all promised.”

Lockwood deflated — and winced. “Fine,” he muttered, with poor grace, sagging against the shelving unit. “Truth be told, I’m happy to postpone our investigation because I’m feeling a bit out of sorts, tonight.”

“‘Out of sorts’?”

“Under the weather.”

“I’m not having trouble with the euphemism, Lockwood — but what do you even mean, how under the weather?”

Lockwood closed his eyes, his head flopping back against the shelves with a dull metallic clang. “I got stabbed, alright?”

George stared at him. “I’m sorry — you got stabbed?”

“Very, very lightly stabbed.”

“Where? When, how, who?!”

Lockwood ticked off the answers on his fingers.“At the Hobson house, last night, pointy carving knife, poltergeist. It’s fine.”

“Oh, for the love of — show me, you lunatic.”

Sighing and managing to look put-upon, Lockwood settled his elbow more comfortably on the shelf beside him and used his other hand to tug his coat aside. A small blossom of blood marred his crisp white shirt, just under his ribs. “It’s mostly stopped bleeding, to tell you the truth.”

“Oh, well as long as it’s mostly stopped.”

“It’s just a scratch!”

“It’s still bleeding! It probably needs stitches, and, and antiseptic! Please tell me you disinfected it.”

“Yes! I think. It was late, end of a very long day. It looks perfectly fine.”

George gave him a good, hard stare for a further ten seconds before turning back towards the stairs. “Lucy!” he hollered.

“Wha— no, George, George, don’t tell Lucy,” Lockwood beseeched, face pale, eyes wide.

George glanced at him wearily over his shoulder. “Might want to reopen that wound and hope it kills you before she does.” He rolled his eyes and strode over to where Lockwood was unsubtly clinging to the shelf for support, shouldering under Lockwood’s arm on his good side and marching him bodily towards the stairs. “Luce! Dig out the first aid kit! And break out the ginger biscuits while you’re about it — bloodless idiot coming your way!”

*

The thing about Lockwood’s larger-than-life aura of assurance was when it faltered, the difference was jarring. Lucy wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it. Even after all this time, all the trust they’d built, all the occasions when she’d seen past the cracks in his defences, it still threw her to see him looking so… small. No, not even small. Just actual sized.

Slumped and moping in the kitchen chair, coat stripped and down to his shirtsleeves, Lockwood looked… well, he still looked distinctly Byronic, in his way; but with extra emphasis on the tragedy in his literary genre. He looked waifish and slight, pale and bloodless. The bags under his eyes could rival their hefty kit duffels. His skin where George held his shirt pushed back to give Lucy access to the injury was fish-belly white and she could’ve played his ribs like piano keys — if she’d had the slightest musical talent to her name, that is. How was he so thin? He could bloody well put away crisps with the best of them.

Lucy tried, she really tried, to patch him up gently. But she was no medic, and on top of that she was fucking pissed off. So occasionally she pressed too hard, and tried not to dwell too much on her complex emotional muddle of regret and satisfaction when he winced.

“You should be in hospital,” she grumbled, eyeing her messy line of butterfly bandages unhappily. “Get sewn up properly.”

“Soon as they know a ghost was involved they’ll run me through all those tedious tests and injections. It’s pointless — can’t get ghost-touched by a poltergeist, anyway. And I don’t need Barnes breathing down my neck; you know he’ll catch wind of it somehow.”

“We don’t have to say it was a ghost,” George reasoned.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, humans still stab other humans with knives from time to time,” said Lucy.

Lockwood’s sour face brightened enough for a wry smile. “True, but. Well. My reputation would never recover.”

“Well, don’t come cryin’ to me when you get a big ugly scar,” Lucy muttered, rummaging in the oft-frequented first aid kit for a patch of gauze to tape over the whole lot.

“I’ve heard some find them attractive. Rugged.”

“Do you know what’s more attractive?” George chimed in. “Self-preservation instincts. Common sense.”

Lockwood raised his eyebrow. “Based on your choice in partners, George, I think that might be a bit of a fib.”

“Yeah, even I can’t back that one up, Geor— oi, cheeky sod!”

Lockwood grinned at her. It was several megawatts duller than usual, but the spark was there. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite catch her small responding smile before it slipped out into the world.

“All the same, this is idiotic even for you,” George persisted, standing stiffly with his arms crossed and his face set in an expressionless mask that nonetheless radiated disapproval somehow. He was good at that. “What if I’d been ready to go with the research? You could’ve got yourself killed, swanning into an active haunting with a wound like that.”

“I wouldn’t say swanning—”

“I would,” said Lucy. “Nice verb, George.”

“Thank you very much.”

“And he’s right. You would’ve risked your life. And ours. So what’s that all about?”

Lockwood slouched further back in his chair, wincing as he jostled his wound. “I know my limits.”

Lucy arched her brows. “Oh, d’you, now?”

“I know what I can handle — and we’ve too much work to do, I can’t take a sick day every time I’m —”

“Impaled?” George finished for him.

“Lightly impaled!”

“Lockwood,” said Lucy, patting down the last corner of gauze with finality before taking his stupid handsome chin in her hands and making him meet her eyes. “I say this with affection: you would not know your limits if they literally smacked you in the gob.”

Lockwood’s valiant attempts at frowning sulkily were somewhat hampered by her squeezing his face, but he gave it his best shot. “‘M fine!”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now. You’ve said yourself we should let George finish his research. In the meantime, I sentence you to fuckin’ bed. Off you pop.”

“I’m your boss.”

“Then I’m on strike. ‘Til my demands are met.”

“Me too,” said George. “Sorry, mate. Can’t cross a picket line.”

Lockwood narrowed his eyes at him. “Et tu, Brute?”

“Yes. Et me. Now go. You’re getting blood all over my notes.”

Lockwood sighed, standing slowly and wearily, as if he were the most pitifully maligned soul for being ordered to curl up in a cosy bed at eight p.m. “Well. Needs must, then; if I’m to quell a peasants’ revolt.”

“Call me a peasant again and I’ll show you somethin’ revolting,” Lucy threatened.

*

Lockwood didn’t make it to bed. At the foot of the staircase he started lamenting the awful pain of traipsing up all those steps in his condition. Because it was utterly transparent that he just didn’t want to be that far away from the action, they magnanimously allowed him to sprawl out on the sofa in the living room instead — and left a stack of his gossip rags within reach to keep him occupied.

Lucy took her sweet time organising kit for their mission, whenever that may be. Meanwhile, George sank his teeth into the research, safe in the knowledge that neither one of the bloody liabilities he was sharing his life, house, career, heart etcetera with were about to throw themselves headlong into the lion’s den before he had them sufficiently armed with knowledge.

George honestly thought it would be harder to keep Lockwood down, but he must’ve been more tired and in pain than he’d let on because he seemed fairly content to languish in relative peace — the occasional whine notwithstanding. Poor Lucy, on account of finishing her work far sooner than George, mostly received the job of plying their patient with tea and company to keep him mollified. Considering she re-entered the kitchen on multiple occasions with her hair a mess and a high blush on her cheeks, he assumed Lockwood was finding ways to make it worth her while.

At about the three hour mark, Lockwood fell so quiet George thought he might’ve gone to sleep. But when George and Lucy crept into the room, tray laden with a midnight feast of toast and hot chocolate, Lockwood was awake; his eyes were closed and he was obviously deep in thought, but he was definitely awake. George knew what he looked like asleep by now. Even poised and prim Lockwood went slack-mouthed in deep slumber.

Sharing a glance of silent understanding with Lucy, George set the tray down on the coffee table, and picked up Lockwood’s feet. He settled into the spot of couch they’d vacated before plopping them in his lap, silly pink socks and all. Lucy underwent a similar process at the other end with his head.

Lockwood's eyes flickered open, gazing heavy lidded up at Lucy, head tipped back like Ophelia in the stream. “Am I forgiven?”

“For now. And just because you're alive. If you'd got yourself killed you'd be on my shit list.” Her words were characteristically brusque, but her hand was already buried affectionately in his hair.

“And you're still not going anywhere until I've finished my research,” said George sternly. “And 'til you're no longer bleeding out, I suppose.”

“I accept your terms,” said Lockwood, with considerably more grace than earlier. He still sighed heavily. “You shall have to give me some dusty old papers to comb through, George — I'm at a loose end and it's only been two hours.”

George clasped one of his bony ankles affectionately. “Alright. But no bleeding on anything that isn't a photocopy.”

“And not tonight,” said Lucy. “You need to take it easy. Take the night off.”

Lockwood looked up at Lucy, eyes deeply shadowed. With a weak twitch of a smile, and that sadness that made him look so much older than he was. “Not sure I know how.”

Lucy picked up one of his rag mags with a raised eyebrow. “Liar.”

“Those are important research, actually.”

“Well, you wanted to do research. Let's see — how about this, then;” she folded the magazine in half, flashing a quiz page in George's direction. “Let's find out if you're a steamy sex kitten or not.”

“Those quizzes have little to no actual scientific process,” George pointed out, pushing up his glasses. “...But alright. Lockwood first.”

Now Lockwood had some colour back in his cheeks. “I don't usually —”

“Question one,” Lucy spoke over him. “When you’re alone in bed, what do you wear? A) Nothin' at all —” she paused to waggle her eyebrows — “B) a flannelette nightie, C) a sexy black négligée?”

Lockwood sighed, and accepted his fate. He crossed his ankles comfortably in George's lap, put a hand behind his head, and considered his options. “B.”

Lucy hissed through her teeth. “Something tells me you're not off to a flying start.”

*

Lockwood, outrageously, scored low on the quiz. Lower than George, in fact — but George had fudged his answers and Lockwood well knew it. When Lucy's turn came she conveniently decried the quiz as sexist and flicked through the rest of the magazine, complaining about how all these women looked like they would fall through a crack in the pavement.

“Dunno why you’re surprised he scored higher than you,” she said matter-of-factly as Lockwood and George’s arguing escalated in volume. “He’s been tarting around with nothing on below the waist since I moved in.”

“Since before you moved in, in fact,” said George, equally matter-of-fact and utterly shameless.

Lockwood, who was painfully aware of that fact — had been driven slowly crazy by it, thank you very much — still scoffed and lightly kicked George’s thigh with his heel. “Well, some of us don’t need to show acres of skin to be alluring. That quiz was rigged.”

The argument continued, largely without any real heat, and Lucy offered contributions to both sides (probably depending on who she found funnier to antagonise in the moment). Lockwood had a stellar view of them both, sprawled as he was across their laps like a human blanket. He got to watch that spark in George’s dark eyes that ignited when he was challenged, and that oh-so-subtle twist of Lucy’s lips when she was laughing at them both. He could feel both of their hands on him, Lucy’s cradling his head, George’s curled lightly around his ankle, soft and warm but heavy with unspoken promise. Amongst all the pain and embarrassment and mind-numbing inactivity of the evening Lockwood allowed himself to acknowledge, quietly and with not a little awe, that he was in some respects, against all odds and prior conceptions, an astonishingly lucky man.

Eventually Lockwood felt sleep creeping up on him. It couldn’t even be two in the morning, yet — was this how other people’s sleep schedules worked? The normal, not-risking-their-lives-every-night people? It was bizarre. Maybe he’d even wake with the dawn as opposed to dozing off with it.

He yawned, and hummed in satisfaction as Lucy scratched her painted nails gently against his scalp. The dissatisfaction came when George picked up his feet and extricated himself from the impromptu sofa huddle. "Come back," Lockwood grumbled.

"We don't all get the night off."

"It's hardly a holiday, George — I've been skewered."

"Lightly skewered," Lucy and George teased in near perfect unison.

Lockwood frowned. "That was spooky."

“Well I plan to make the most of you being bed bound and well-guarded. I’m off to see what we’re dealing with. I’m narrowing it down — our ghost is definitely wailing.”

“Still reckon she’s waving,” said Lucy.

“And that’s why I’m the brains and you’re the brawn.”

“Does that make me the beauty?” grinned Lockwood.

Flagrantly untrue, of course, given that he was addressing the two loveliest, most brilliant humans in creation.

But they were somehow even lovelier when gazing down on him in fond exasperation, so he said it nonetheless. The End * Hope you feel like you just got given a warm fuzzy hug -- that was from me <3 If you wanna hug me back, drop us a comment/reblog, love hearing from you ^_^ Should probably take some time off scribbling fics in order to read the last two books and also do some other stuff that I'm generally putting off in my life, but if you have any other fic prompts for these three I'm happy to take 'em into consideration! (also sorry not sorry for the B99 and Red Dwarf refs)

[karnalesbian]

recent media update (long but not toooo long)

- the new unpublished jack white album is fucking fire, it's the closest thing to a new white stripes album that we've had in all of his solo work. actually would have been completely willing to believe it was a white stripes album and not a solo album if I didn't know ahead of time. he's my fucking GOAT I missed his guitar work so bad

- stacklands is a neat little game that charmed me immediately! had it on my watch list for PC for a while but got it on switch instead. maybe a slightly suboptimal decision bc it would be easier using a mouse, but not a dealbreaker at all and it feels good as a portable game

- jujutsu kaisen has been so deeply fucking silly that it's almost beginning to wrap around to funny. not quite yet, unfortunately, but almost. for now it just kind of sucks though. the fall off has been unbelievably steep over the last 2-3 years, it's crazy

- ive slowly started recovering from the rust of not playing slay the spire for a couple years! it's just like riding a bike. an incredibly murderous bike that thrives on your failure and is out to get you in ways you didn't even think possible. winrate is still in the gutter for now but it's rising (minus defect. defect will prob take longer to re-learn than the other three put together) cannot fucking wait for sts 2

- I made the critical mistake of putting down unicorn overlord for a few days while busy with work. picked it back up and realized I completely forgot what I was doing with my squad composition and tactics and all. had to put it back down again bc im genuinely going to have to set aside time just to figure out what I was aiming for. feels exactly like looking at code and thinking 'what fucking idiot wrote this garbage wtf' and then realizing it is in fact your own code from a few months ago.

- my forensic accounting textbook is kinda mid. worldbuilding is kinda bland, characterization is lacking, plot is all over the place. would not recommend!

[werewolf-artfriend]

trying out something new :)

bonus peeled version:

[thecherrygod]

Robot hdb and mechanic/technician kim pt 2, more serious this time

@morphlingunderscore thank you for taking interest in this!!! originally i didn't have too many thoughts about it but.... Something shifted, and last night i couldn't stop thinking about it, sorry if it got a bit too long kdkdkgks i got more invested than i thought i would

Maybe he was made by Dora? As part of a prototype series of robots, i think hdb could be harrys model And maybe she even named harry just. Harry. Bc there was something about him, about how programming, that was faulty but made him special (the skills. They make him too human while not human enough) (also maybe part of his program knows he had a name but it got wiped too, and he is fixated on it, on having lost that. .... It could be kept as part of a letter in a compartment somewhere in his robotic body... Maybe even in his chest cavity... Maybe Kim finds it when having to fix something in there........ No concrete thoughts there, just a vague idea that I'm keeping here.)

At first this would be very interesting, getting herself attached to him (and i feel like it's also the thing that makes Kim so invested in him later down the line)

But. Things keep breaking, he has blackouts (maybe caused by overheating? Maybe the skills cause the overheating and/or short-circuiting?), He keeps messing up his tasks, and his system may not be fully capable of following the classic three laws of robotics all the way through. It gets exhausting, she has better projects to work on, others that can stop being prototypes, more worthy of time and resources, that will get recognition, and get her out of the place they're living in.

And so she leaves, and leaves her old lab and obsolete projects to gather dust never to be used again.

Kim, on the other hand, really just is a mechanic for the most part, but he can really work with any machine, and would know about programming and circuits and everything, having learned about this on his free time.

This interest starts properly after having moved from foster families a few times, and managing to get a mechanic to take him and teach him how it all works, getting his hands on an actual engine,tho hes always been interested even as a child, from what he could find in books.

He has his own garage now, and works on any machine you bring him, from cars to a microwave, anything that helps him pay the bills and allows him to work with things he enjoys. Also doing these kind of household appliance fixes makes him go out in search for any parts that he may need for his job, whatever's cheaper (por straight up free, of you know where to go)

I think that, like in canon, it's thanks to Kim that harry wakes up again. In this case maybe hes looking around for something and manages to shock harry in a way that his body starts right there and then? Idk too much about this kinda stuff and it's late. It could also be noise with enough vibration to make Harry's gears shift again. But as i said idk about machines I'm general nor if that makes sense/is possible)

The rest is basically this: harry helps Kim find parts, either that they can use on him or on other machines. He malfunctions more now bc both of the prevailing issues, the wipe out, and the passing of time, and Kim is willing to fix the parts he can, and understand the ones that seem to make no sense, and this, all this, new, can bring a change to Kim's monotonous life, spark something in him, also be confronted about some of his being stagnant by harry. Also the wipeout isn't a complete thing, this guy would realize Kim likes speedfreaks and would use himself as a radio to play it just to see him have a good time, for example. His skills still work with understanding humans (... Sometimes).

another way of doing this tho would be hay being made for the rcm (still Dora's creation imo). Faulty but good for all the same reasons + this robot will give you a ridiculous list of theories/keep track of evidence/of witnesses) alibis/the things that have no relation to the case you don't want him to remember but still does.

In this case one of his faults could also be in fact his memory, and it being faulty enough it had an almost full cleaning could be from people trying to delete info from it and failing. Or him doing it himself so he feels like he still has a reason for not being discarded by the rcm. And kim could still be part of the rcm but both as a mechanic and a detective, or just mechanic, or just detective on paper but with the knowledge

[evildilf2]

would you be ok to share the kink/sex resource list? id love to have a look!

Sure! It’s not super comprehensive, but here’s a handful of things I’ve been able to find online for free. (the links should work if copy pasted, let me know if you have any issues). Keep in mind that I am not a professional sex educator or a specialist in this subject, so some of these resources may be outdated or imperfect.

ZINES/PDFS

Cruising: trans guys guide to the gay sex scene https://jirosworld.com/transgender/TransGuys-cliniq-safers.pdf

Fucking Trans Women https://transreads.org/fucking-trans-women/

Queer Sex Ed zine archive https://www.queersexedcc.com/zine-archive

BOOKS

The New Bottoming Book (has incorrect cover for some reason) https://anarchistbooks.files.wordpress.com/2016/01/dossie-easton-and-janet-w-hardy-e28093-the-new-topping-book.pdf

The New Topping Book https://archive.org/details/newtoppingbook0000east/page/n6/mode/1up?view=theater

SM 101 https://archive.org/details/sm101realisticin0000wise

Leatherfolk https://archive.org/details/isbn_9781555831875

The Erotic Mind https://archive.org/details/eroticmindunlock00mori

DOCUMENTARIES

Folsom Forever https://link.tubi.tv/AdErL6ZCryb

Kink Crusaders https://link.tubi.tv/v6i3Vy9Eryb

YOUTUBE

https://youtube.com/@ sexplanations

https://youtube.com/@WattsTheSafeword

https://youtube.com/@EvieLupine

https://youtube.com/@ hannahwitton

https://youtube.com/@KatBlaque

WEBSITES

https://www.kinkacademy.com/category/access/free/

https://ohiv.org/free-condoms/ <= not an educational resource, but a resource where you can get free contraception if you live in Ohio.

[givemeuniversalcrossovers]

The replaying PLA experience so far, as documented by me;

Painful reminder of the banishment scene via the initial gossiping from people around me as I walk into the town with Professor Laventon

Sees Beni: fuck you fuck you die horridly you racist fuckwit die die I'm gonna burn down your shop

Sees Cyllene: hiiii wiifffeee

Sees Volo: You. *sees his evil fucking face* I should've known you were evil from the start by that face I never got to the betrayal scene yet because I gave up on my other account and only knew through tumblr spoilers but damn I should've fucken known

The commander going on about well I may have fallen from the sky but I'm one of them now work hard and people will trust you! Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you you piece of shit lying bastard fuck you

Volo jumpscare: fucking shit hell. "Bet you weren't expecting that" YEA I forgot you did that geez!! But fuck you I've been using the backstrike method this whole time I'm versed in the gameplay, bitch

Sees Mei: oh hiiii I forgot how pretty you were god it sucks that after this storyline you're essentially forgotten whoops, you're doing great sweetieee

Talks to the Cherrim quest guy: ah ffs it's you. I didn't even complete this quest in my other game I never even caught a Cherrim yet fuuuck

Hears Adaman and Irida arguing and hears Adaman be like "I'm not gonna waste my time" : MY GUY YOU STARTED IT?? I'M WITH IRIDA ON THIS ONE MY DUDE

Talks to Buizel guy: oh no I'll have to catch an alpha I couldn't do this quest last time without one oh nvm I caught an actual normal 2'8 Buizel nvm alls good

Also fuck the hairdresser old lady!! Obligatory 500 then unable to undo or cancel?? I just wanted to know my options at that time!! I didn't wanna actually do it!! Cunt.

[lostlegendaerie]

Hello and happy Friday! This is the first weekly ask! See my pinned post but basically I want to send one ask a week to the Pokémon tumblr community as a whole (tell me if you’d like to be exempt from this moving forward, and people can dm me if they don’t get asks and want to)! We’ll start off with this question: what location/s in any iteration of the Pokémon universe do you feel the most of a connection with? From the most well-known town to a specific spot in a random route, anywhere!

Hello, hello, and thank you so much for sending this ask! I did read your pin post, and I’m super super excited to be included!

Fortree City is my answer, with a breakdown below the cut.

Pokémon Sapphire was the first game I ever played, squished next to my little cousin at Thanksgiving and marveling over the world contained in that taco-shaped GameBoy Advance. The emotional highs and lows of that game shaped me experience, and getting into Contestshipping only cemented the spot Hoenn has in my heart. But the majesty of Fortree City holds so much magic to me.

First off, the route you take there is 119 - a moody, rainy route north with the extra tall grass that evoked a jungle-like aesthetic. The wooden bridge over the waterfall, the Weather Institute, ~two entire days of my life spent fishing for that damn Feebas~ and everything else make that a route to remember. And then? The city itself.

An entire city of treehouses!!! Round little houses (I had a thing for yurts, blame Harvest Moon: a Wonderful Life) built to harmonize with nature instead of destroy it. How could you not get hype as hell?

To say nothing of the Gym Leader, who honestly should be added to my honorable mentions of “female characters I crushed on and didn’t realize as such when I was 11”Look at her!!!! And she’s into BIRDS!!!! Man, I really should cosplay her. That would be such a blast~

Also, route 120 houses one of my all time favorite Pokémon, Absol, as well as a trainer who battles with a Milotic (another massive favorite)

So, yeah!!!! Fortree City all the way!!!! If I could live there I would in a second.

[millr]

while i do understand the narrative that part two tried to spin us when it came down to joel’s storyline, and its eventual ending, i do not agree in the way it was portrayed. heavily.

joel miller is a man who is, by definition, shaped by the trauma he’s went through. by the atrocities he’s committed, and the inhumanity he’s experienced during his life. declawing him in between part one, and part two feels like a cop-out, and an easy explanation as to how abby’s team got so close, so quickly. a raison d'être, a “gotcha.” after all, how do you surprise the man who’s been behind the gun so many times? it’s easy, you soften him up for no reason other than if you squint real hard… you could imagine him being like that after x amount of years.

in my portrayal, joel was never too linked / associated with jackson as a community, mostly due to a feeling of inadequacy, a “never fitting in” that loomed over his head for the entire time he was there, starting from the very first second he’d stepped foot through the gates. and while he did have a residence there, it was mostly used and inhabited during the first few years after the ending of the first part. to check on ellie, make sure she was okay, and to, at the end of the day, keep an eye out for trouble. because at his core, joel’s trauma will never allow him to truly trust people. because he does not trust himself.

his encounter with abby still happens, but it’s by chance. he doesn’t just fall on the metaphorical lap of the wolves due to a lapse of judgement or “trusting too easily,” no: he’s ambushed by them, and taken out of this world in the same exact way, except tommy is not there when he’s caught, who warns ellie that joel’s been gone for too long and hasn’t said anything, which prompts a quick search, leading into the discovery of the massacre: from then on, the scene is the same.

[coles-scythe]

Jumping on the ship trope trend thingie!!! High key reminds me of the Tumblr RP community's reblog memes with their muses and I've always enjoyed the concepts of those lol.

I'll be using Adachi bc he is infesting my brain and giving me a headache tonight (affectionate).

Rules: Highlight or bold the tropes that apply to your self ship with your F/O.

Personal Addition: Color code your highlights if a trope applies to you/your self insert or your F/O more than the other.

Both: Purple

Jay: Blue

Adachi: Red

height difference · mutual pining · first kiss · first love · married · inside jokes · lgbt+ · family disapproves · friends disapprove · would die for each other · fake relationship · arranged wedding · physical affection · pda friendly · and they were roommates · secret relationship · opposing world views · opposing personalities · opposing goals · getting a pet · have kids · grow old together · relationship failures · rest head on shoulder · share a bed · token dummies · relationship doubts · they have a song · first date · it's cold, take my jacket · sharing a blanket · mutual interests · study buddies · bathing together · crash into hello · accidental nudity · laundry · same hobbies · cooking together · big fancy gala · sibling rivalry · hair stroking · late night dancing · cloudgazing in the grass · watching stars together · watching the other sleep · shared values (sorta? it's complicated) · friends to lovers · enemies to lovers · lovers to enemies · childhood friends · slow burn · love triangle · toxic relationship (also complicated) · sitting on each other’s lap · can’t be together · hugs · forehead touches · neck kisses · car/motorbike rides · compliments · petnames · falling asleep together · late night talks · spontaneous gifts

[welcometoteyvat]

I’ve been wondering about image descriptions, and been a bit nervous to ask, so I hope this is seen as something asked in genuinely good faith and not me being rude, but what are the purpose of image descriptions?

As far as I’m aware they’re mainly for people with screen readers, but I was wondering (other than people with difficulty seeing) who uses screen readers and why, so that image descriptions can be written to suit the requirements of people who need them.

Also, I’ve seen a lot of people putting them in the body of the text and not the built in function, and I was wondering which is ‘better’ or preferred by people who need image descriptions.

Sorry that these are quite a lot of questions, but I am genuinely interested in making my blog more accessible even if it’s small :)

hello :>

tbh i'm still learning myself! generally I've been adding IDs in the alt text of my images but there seems to be a preference for putting them in the body of a post (my most recent reblog should talk abt this, and if you go into the #for personal reference tag on this blog there's another post that has a discussion abt this (might have to scroll a bit)). part of the reason i haven't been doing this is because I'm not sure about how to do the ID bracket formatting (because I haven't actually looked or tried to commit it to memory very hard..... L).

as for who they're for, I believe it's anyone with visual impairment, whether they use a screenreader or not! (the first post i linked should also talk about this)

@ your last paragraph: let's both try our best ! no problem about the questions <3 (although you might also want to try looking elsewhere, as I'm not the most informed on this topic!)

[be-good-to-bugs]

when will i stop feeling like trash?

[nhura]

QUICK NO ONE'S LOOKING

(See readmore for thoughts, cope, bonus, etc.)

Anyone else up thinking about Ratio's big, strong, secure arms and how warm and all-consuming they could be in a hug or embrace. :/ Anyway

I just wanted to draw them being cute and seizing a sliver of a moment where they could have some PDA silly time without actually having any eyes on them. They're public figures and working adults with very clear boundaries between public persona and private life (to varying degrees of "in a sad way"), so while it may be in Aventurine's nature to constantly blur lines for various agendas and self-preservation (read: play "the flirt" without an aligned goal), I believe that in an actual relationship they'd be fairly private.

It's kind of fun to break your own rules, though! Ratio would be more upset about the consequences, though. He's a little bit of a hypocrite, which is devastating for someone of such discipline, but nobody's perfect.

I'm of the mentality of, "If you're tired of working on it, then just post it!", so here are some fun peripherals that I didn't feel like adding:

Some staff in the background sweeping up to evoke a blended sense of fragile privacy and liminal time.

A laptop on the aquarium/bar/counter because there's something fascinating about seeing people on their work laptops in public.

The rest of their clothes (casual friday)

[angstandhappiness]

Neat

Mermay Special Prompt 3

“Are you kidding? No one goes to Gotham, that place is like,” Aquaman made a motion with his hand, a not-quite grimace on his face. “Like things should not be living in the water, like it should be impossible, and things should be dead, but they aren’t and it’s like, like the equivalent of an undead apocalypse over there!” 

Bruce rolled his eyes behind his cowl, taking a sip of his coffee as the others continued drinking. Socialize, they said, it’ll be fine they said. Well excuse him, but the waters weren’t that bad. Sure there were always dumped bodies, and chemicals from the rogue attacks, but it was far worse at one point.

One thing he’ll always be relieved for is how the… curse (thank you broken statuette back in the beginning of his vigilante career that fused with the other many curses of Gotham) made the people of Gotham actually care about the waters around them. 

Though also, he couldn’t help but thank anything that might be listening for the fact that the curse only interacted with Gotham waters, because losing legs with any risk of a drop of water would be downright annoying. 

“No dude, you don’t understand, no one goes there for a reason! That shit is horrific- someone saw a big thing with bits of rebar stabbed straight through it and still chased after a big alligator-thing!” Oh. Oh that had been him. Oops. Hopefully his kids didn’t find out about this, but they were probably already on the cameras. Dammnit.