#idk what they're ship name is

[cobaltfluff]

persona boyfriends being cringe (2/3)

[skellagirl]

Gordon/Barney/Alyx is really really funny to me conceptually bc it's like, two hot geniuses in their 20s who look at the 40-something smartass who hangs around and go 'yeah that guy. we both want him carnally'

[things-stronger-than-fear]

literally in another universe snowbairdplinth could've been THE revolution. they wouldn't even really need any allies, lbr.

like, between coryo's cunning, sej's conscience, and lucy gray's charisma? the snow name, the plinth fortune, the baird d12 but neither district nor capitol pedigree?

coryo could've actually been like, panem's first 20-year-old president, who outlaws the hunger games and who the districts still listen to because he has sej and lucy gray on side. and yeah maybe coryo still kills a bunch of people but like whatever, no one really bats an eye -- who's gonna mourn gaul, anyways? no one in the districts, that's for sure. even if gaul didn't suck ass they'd be busy with cool covey music and awesome new legislation.

in a better universe i am 100% certain snowbairdplinth could've managed a fairly bloodless revolution, six decades early.

[velvetcake96]

Clancy X Torchbearer: The sweetest, fluffiest, cutest, and healthiest relationship to ever exist. Nose/Cheek kisses all the time, holding hands, always “fighting” because they think the other is prettier, finding the biggest flower for the other and just cherishing the time they have together because they don’t know when Clancy will disappear again. Cute, fluffy, very protective on Torch’s end and very loving on Clancy’s side.

SpookyFace: “Dude, not to be gay or anything because I fucking hate you but I would cannibalize you.” “Dude…Same.”

[niinnyu]

Women who are doctors... and who like each other... 😳🤯

[michsmeesh]

sodomizer and rain???? being gay??? during PRIDE MONTH??? more likely than you'd think

close-up under the cut

[cluescorner]

I’ve slowly grown to realize that my one of my favorite relationship dynamics is: most competent person in the universe with identity-based struggles x absolute goofball who instinctively knows exactly who they are and loves them so, so much. 

[seaquestions]

blake lets him keep it. this is a dire lapse in judgement on his part but they're just gonna have to live with it. (ids in alts)

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

steve, robin, chrissy, and nancy starting a band together. each have their own kind of more classical musical training with robin being in marching band and steve, chrissy, and nancy all having Rich People Music Lessons as children, but everyone's shocked when they decide to turn that talent towards a punk band called Baby and the Girls

and they start off kind of small, with their Gimmick being the disconnect between their more prep/normie visual aesthetic and the angry, violent tone of their music. steve's the singer (he has a lovely voice, kind of warm and croony until he really starts screaming), chrissys the drummer (she's so tiny you can barely see her behind that thing), nancys the bassist (solid, dependable, gets a little smile on her face whenever she's got a particularly sexy baseline bc she knows the bass is what makes a song a fuck song), and robins on guitar (and keyboard, and violin, and one time an accordion which is still her favourite song to perform. basically whatever other instrument the song calls for she's got it)

and they get kind of a following not just for their angry music criticising the government and society and the like, but also because of how unabashedly queer they are. chrissy/nancy/robin have all visibly flirted with each other during concerts and no one's quite sure what the deal is there. steve performs like 75% of their shows in full drag as Baby (hence the band name) and winks flirtatiously at both male and female audience members alike

eventually they get Real Big, and get signed to an actual record label. despite knowing how queer they were before signing them, it's still like the early 90s so the label makes them tone it down a bit. song lyrics get a little more ambiguous (but not if you actually like. listen to them. i mean steve sings about eating a wide variety of fruits and vegetables in a way that like. We All Know What The Peach Is Steven), steve's not allowed to perform in drag anymore (although he does lose a suspicious amount of bets whose forfeits 'force' him to perform in a dress. new fans are baffled at how bad this guy is at bets), and the band name has to change, becoming Stevie and the Girls (the label wanted it to just be 'steve' but they compromised)

and over the course of their career, at some point they end up on a talk show with the Other Band From Hawkins, corroded coffin. the host is clearly angling for a punk/metal standoff, maybe Known Non-conformist eddie munson will call them posers for wearing so many pastel colours, or since everyone knows that steve chris and nancy at least used to be pretty popular in high school maybe there's some lasting high school drama to up their ratings

and yeah, their ratings skyrocket for that episode, but only bc steve and eddie reveal they've been dating since 1987

[icecreampizzer]

some phoenix/prism stuff from a few days ago :3c

[hiimtheproblem87times]

Ah yes, them

[theology101]

Fabian and Adaine have me absolutely bewitched and its going to be everyone's problem

Im writing a fic for the two of them were they sorta do the awkward 'are we dating or just Good Friends who spend time together without other Friends' to 'fake date to fix her money problems' and then 'actually we were in love the entire time.' I'm not 100% on my order of events yet but I have a bunch of vignettes stuck in my head and its easier for my brain to expell them at an audience

Moggy the Doggy and the Hangman both go to the Spectral Dog park, Fabian and Adaine want to get Hangman comfortable in his hellhound form (although they respect that he prefers to be a bike)

For some reason whenever Adaine needs new clothes, she goes with Fabian? Something about the good vibes from the Jean Jacket means she thinks he's a lucky charm for clothes

While out in public Adaine has a panic attack, and Fabian swaddled her in the Battle Sheet. She initially thinks its patronizing before realizing - is this shit thread count seven billion?

After the Swaddle Incident, Fig and Kristen start VIOLENTLY shipping them, and that inspires the 'lets get engaged for tax purposes'

Fabian has an additional fund for his betrothed/spouse/SO, and KVX starts giving Adaine three thousand gold pieces a month

Jawbone, Gorthulax and Sandra Lynn are all pretty hype about this development - Sandra Lynn has her fucking eyes on him though. Adaine immediately feels guilty about lying

Hallariel flies home fucking immediately and forces Adaine to spend an entire Weekend with her. I'm talking Spa Day, Dress Fitting, Sword Dueling and a bunch of traditional elven activities

(and Adaine def doesn't cry because she's having the type of elven family experience with Hallariel that she wishes she had with Arianwen Abernant)

Turns out KVX has a similar system as the 'nemesis' system for spouses/signifgant others. Adaine would not be getting her three thousand gold a month unless she and Fabian genuinely did love each other

The reaction from that makes her vomit

The Bad Kids have to deal with Princess Nara being a BITCH. She's Fabian's cousin, wants her fucking sword back, thank you very much, and thinks that the Elven Oracle slumming it at High School and on adventures instead of leading a fucking nation like she's supposed to

Fabian and Adaine are backing each other up with so much passion and authority they kiss about it when they're done

And idk how we get here, but she's proposing herself with rings from the Jacket of Useful Things

I have more that are still half baked but if anyone else has any hit me dog. This shit is going to be 5k words+ a chapter when I'm done with her and I'm debating on 1-5 chapters rn

[tinta--branca--art]

I owe you my life @chaoticargeltal for your dofuwani prompt for the @newscoozines valentine's event !! I can't believe I hadn't drawn them before now smh the grip they have on me...

[beeheevs]

sometimes, I'll be reading an atsv fic and come across one word or way of phrasing or encounter, and all of a sudden just know the author is black. on the flipside, sometimes writers will write in a certain way that makes it obvious they're decidedly not 💀

[dudefort]

Since yall liked my last poly ship post, here's another

Last two doodles were made by my bestie @dustin-but-gayer

[tickle-bugs]

Cool Guy

Anon: Heya! If you're still doing them, could you make a tickle fic on Luke and Han but js Han getting Luke? I love the whole Luke being like Hans lil bro 😭 An idea being maybe Luke is embarrassing Han in front of Leia and Han gets him back, Leia maybe helping Han a bit? I like your fics a lot haha! It's alr if not ofc, js have a good day! :D <3

Summary: Han is cool, suave, and absolutely irresistible. Luke vehemently disagrees.

Han knows logically that he cannot not squish the galaxy’s last hope like a bug. That would be unwise. There is, however, zero question of if he deserves it.

Luke is almost better at being a little shit than he is at being a Jedi.

“Princess!” Han leans against the wall. The Falcon’s internals hum behind it. Leia looks up at him blankly. 

“Pest.” She takes a bite of a sandwich. “What do you want?”

Nothing. Not a thing. He just loves the irritated curve of her eyebrow, the sharpness of her gaze, the curl of her lips--

“I’d love it if you’d stop taking what’s not yours.” He nods towards the sandwich. Leia regards it, then makes deep eye contact on her next bite. Han chuckles in something like disbelief, but he knows her. Knows how she likes to provoke. 

“Nice boys share their food.” She takes another bite.

“Well, I ain’t nice. Keep your thieving little hands to yourself.” Han considers wrapping up the sandwich, just to be petty, but he knows she hardly takes interest in his things unless she needs something. He could find something else to eat. 

“Or else what?” She plays with the crust of the bread. Eye contact. God, he loves this game of theirs. She leaves him breathless too often for his liking, though. As he flounders for a comeback, he hears a high-pitched noise from the other side of the room. 

Luke. Great. 

“What are you wearing?” Luke laughs incredulously. Han looks down at himself. He’d put on a fur vest today instead of his usual cargo one. It was something he’d snatched off some mook that’d tried to set him up with a dishonest deal. It’s old and it smells a little funny, but he likes it. It’s his now. 

“Wh—it’s a vest. It’s cold.” Han frowns. 

“You look like Chewie shed on you.” Luke leans his hip against the doorway as he settles in to mock. There’s a Wookiee outcry of indignation from the cockpit that goes unanswered.

“It’s a fashion statement.” Han adjusts his posture, gives them a new angle. Luke snorts. Han scowls.

“What exactly are you stating?” Leia rests her chin in her hands. She’s got a crumb on her cheek. He does not think about brushing it away. 

“You’re both terrible.” Han stomps off to change. 

“Right back atcha!” Leia calls after him. Her laughter is sweet, even at his expense. 

….

Run-ins with Empire patrols always put Han on a fine edge--he’s a well-oiled machine with Chewie at his back, but recent additions to the Falcon have proven…distracting. As he slams them into a hyperspace jump, the twins’ noise somehow drowns out the noise of the engine. Leia’s complaining that he took too many risks, Luke’s insisting he took too little, and Han’s half tempted to spin send the Falcon into a barrel roll just to hear a different sound.

Chewie won’t let him. The honorable bastard.

The moment they finish the jump, Han swivels out of his chair and goes…well, he’s not sure where he’s going, but he knows he needs to see and hear something besides Luke crunching angrily on crackers. 

Leia follows on Han’s heels, Luke follows on hers, and Han considers just ejecting himself from the airlock and being done with it. 

“If you want to die, be my guest, but don’t put us at risk for your ego.” Leia smacks his chest. Han can’t tell if he’s imagining the lingering touch of her fingers. 

“No, you’d miss me too much.” He fires back, pulling out of her grasp. He takes long strides, taking a petty sort of joy in hearing significantly shorter legs scramble after him. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Leia snarls, snatching the back of his vest. He whirls around. 

“Yes, you would, because things are boring without me. You like having me around.” He leans into her space. She stands her ground. 

“The fate of the galaxy is boring?” She conveniently ignores that last part. Han doesn’t miss it. 

“It is without me. Face it, princess. You’re attached.” He puts his hands on his hips. Leia’s face turns an interesting color.

“Ha! See? Attached!” Han points triumphantly. Leia smacks his hand away. 

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t need to. The truth’s all over your face.” He circles that pointer finger in her face. She smacks it hard enough to bruise this time. 

“The truth that I can’t stand you, more like. You’re arrogant, reckless, irresponsible—“

“And exactly your type.” Han grins. “You like having me around. Meanwhile, I’m cool, casual, and unattached.” Han clicks his tongue. Leia attempts to burn a hole through his forehead with her gaze. He worries for a moment that she might. 

“Really?” Luke crunches loudly. “I heard you telling Chewie that you like having us around. That you wouldn’t know what you’d do without us. Didn’t sound very cool and casual.” 

“I was drunk.” Han’s face burns. Leia snorts. Han scowls. 

“Drunk mind, sober thoughts.” Luke grins teasingly, waving a chip in his face. Han tries to snatch the bag, but Luke twirls effortlessly out of the way. Damn Jedi. 

“Sounds like you’re attached, laser brain.” Leia circles her finger in his face, and Han wonders if turning himself in to the Empire might be better for his ego.

…

Han’s not sure when his game with Leia stopped being a game and started being this, but he’s not complaining. He’s made out in worse storage rooms than the ones on the Falcon. They’d started with fetching a rations restock, devolved into bickering, and, well…their arguments usually end in violence or the threat of it, so Leia trying to climb him like a tree is a much-welcomed departure from form.

Normally Han’s great at keeping his emotions in a cold, dark little box where he never has to deal with them, but Leia looked so pretty yelling at him that he just…had to kiss her. He knew at that moment he’d die if he didn’t. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed and he hopes it won’t be the last, but each touch with Leia is like drifting closer to the beautiful terror of the sun. The best part, the overwhelming part, is that she wants him too. 

All of that would’ve been well and good, great even, if Luke hadn’t been standing in the doorway. 

Luke and Leia have some kind of stare-off that Han suspects involves their twinness--there’s lots of flustered, offended noises without words being uttered. Luke raises his eyebrow in a way that really seems to get to Leia, because she splutters, which she expressly does not do. 

“Don’t you start! I tolerate him!” She glares at Luke, her cheeks turning red. 

“Aww.” Han smirks. She elbows him in the ribs.

“With your mouth?” Luke’s near hysterical. 

“Among other things.” Han smirks wider. Luke’s face twists in sheer disgust. 

“Shut up,” Leia hisses, blushing and hitting him harder. He grins.

Luke levels a finger at Han, a habit he picked up from him in the first place, and then stalks off. 

“Chances he knifes me in my sleep?” 

“Lower than me doing it myself.” Leia swats his arm once more for good measure, but she’s still glowing, and Han thinks he might want to see that smile of hers for the rest of his life.

“I’ll take those odds.” 

The difference between Luke and his sister, in Han’s opinion, is that Luke’s noise goes inwards. Leia will scream at Han until she’s red in the face and then she’ll miraculously find more air. Luke gets quiet and vengeful, which is why Han starts to suspect foul play the third time he trips over thin air. 

Han really wants to fight back, but every time he opens his mouth, Leia’s lurking around some dark corner. 

On hour three of Luke’s temper tantrum, Han’s eye begins to twitch. He’s probably bruised every inch of his shins by now, he’s tired, and he thinks if he can close his eyes for an hour he might remember how to function. Just a sweet, Skywalkerless hour. 

Han drags his hand over his face as he walks off to his cabin. He finds Luke standing in the hall like an omen. He doesn’t move when Han approaches. The little furrow in his brow is probably meant to be intimidating, and maybe one day it will be, but Han can’t bring himself to care. 

The desire to lay down overcomes his rational thought, and he does to Luke what he often does to Leia: jams his hands under Luke’s arms and lifts him out of the way.

Except, unlike Leia, Luke doesn’t try to kick him. He lets out a giggle at a pitch Han didn’t know he was capable of. 

Han pauses, raising an eyebrow at the rapidly-reddening Jedi in his arms. He twitches his fingers. Luke chokes out a surprised laugh. 

Han’s suddenly not tired anymore. Funny, that. 

“Han, don’t you dare, c’mon--”

Han sets Luke down but doesn’t release him--he viciously wiggles his fingers where they’re trapped under Luke’s arms. He goes down like a sack of droid components, filling the Falcon with bright, bouncy laughter it so desperately needs. 

“You get a minute for every bruise, and my shins are looking mighty purple.” Han whistles lowly, pressing into the gaps between Luke’s ribs. Luke lets out a giggly hiccup and kicks his legs. 

“That’s not f-fair!” Luke clutches Han’s arms desperately. Han twitches his fingers and he curls up, shaking his head. Han distantly wonders when Luke last laughed like this. If he ever has. 

“Yeah? Tell me about it. Pick on someone your own size and maybe life will be fairer.” Han tries to keep his stare blank, but his mouth quirks up at the corners. Luke lets out an indignant gasp, but he quickly tumbles right back down into laughter.

“Let go,” Luke growls, his whole face scrunching around his smile. 

“Kid, I can’t let you go if you’ve got my hands.” Han gives a dramatic tug. He stops, raising his eyebrow expectantly. Luke pouts--pouts!--at him and lifts his arms at glacial pace. Han pulls away…

…and goes right for Luke’s exposed stomach. His shout of betrayal mixes beautifully with his laughter.

“Rookie mistake,” Leia tuts, snickering at Luke’s misfortune. Han jumps at her appearance--man, he should put a bell on these two--and Luke takes that as a signal to start wriggling away. Han reels him back in with a hearty laugh.

“Leia, fetch your--” Han cuts Luke off with a squeeze to the side before he can say anything embarrassing. 

“You gonna help, Your Worship? Or are you above getting your hands dirty?” Han casts a glance at Leia. 

“Never.” Leia smirks, kneeling beside Luke. They stare at each other for a long, tense while. Leia’s gaze drifts over him the same way she sifts through a plan for holes, until she stops at his knees. 

Luke’s eyes widen. Leia grins.

She latches on like a viper and Luke squeals, drumming his feet on the ground. He throws his head back and cackles himself into silence, flopping around uselessly. 

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Han chuckles, a little nervous.

“You’re notoriously bad at it,” she smirks. Han swears he feels the ghost of her fingers on his own legs. He shudders.

Luke’s surrender is less of a cry and more of a wheeze, but they let him go quickly all the same. He tosses his arm over his glowing face with a great, heaving sigh.

“You alright over there?” Han chuckles, nudging Luke’s boot. He lifts his arm to glare.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Han pats his ankle. Luke kicks him. Han squeezes his knee and he immediately blurts out a tired, giggly apology. 

“Stop being a little shit and trying to trip me up. It’s not gonna work. Too cool for that.” Han pats Luke’s stomach. 

Warm hands wrap around his waist and he leans back, scaring himself with how easily he fits into Leia’s arms. She hooks her chin over his shoulder.

“Are you ready?” She murmurs, brushing her fingers over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ready for what?” His hand finds hers. He’s more than ready, if he’s reading this right. She’s rarely like this beyond closed doors, and it sends a thrill through him. Her lips brushing his ear drives him just a little crazy. He starts to stand, but she pulls him back down. 

“To be tripped up.” She smirks. He feels it. 

“Wh—“ 

Leia’s fingers dig in with deadly accuracy. Han crumples and his bravado goes with him. Loud, hearty laughter bursts from him as he slides to the floor, boneless in her arms.

“Aw, look at you cool guy.” Luke sidles up next to him with a shit eating grin. He tickles mockingly under Han’s chin and he, mortifyingly, giggles. Luke chases the sound, having way too much fun for Han’s liking. 

Han growls and tries to kick him. Leia’s fingers find his hips—cruel and unusual—and he’s toast. He resigns himself to die in her lap, which isn’t the overall worst way to go, and makes a mental note to write Luke out of his will. 

As long as Chewie thinks he’s cool, he supposes it’s still a net win.